Bleachers Novels & Stories

Maybe her desire to pull away was so great that she didn't even feel that she might be, in fact, pulling us closer. Finally the big day had arrived. A great movement outside the stadium, Maracanã made explicit the rivalry between Vascaínos and Flamenguistas. And these two biggest rivals of Carioca soccer were going to decide who would be the great champion of Rio, it was sure to be a tense game, in fact it was the final and the champion would be cheered in front of a packed stadium. I, the children and Miguel's family made a point of attending the game at the Maracanã wearing the red and black cloak with Miguel's number 32. Lavínia and Heitor were proud to wear the shirt with their father's

Huge blue banners are hanging from several places: ‘Home of THE BLUES’ ‘THE PRIDE OF LONDON’ There’s a three-tier mini blue bleacher right in front of the gigantic TV, which instantly reminds me of sitting at the Matthew Harding Stand. I’m going to cry. I cover my mouth with both hands, stomping my feet in unbidden excitement as I watch players step onto the field. And immediately, I turn to him. “Alexander?” He smiles back, holding my gaze with glassy, brown eyes.

1 "He's such an asshole." Bea's face scrunched in distaste as she watched the scene that was taking place down the school hallway. "A hot asshole." Jade shrugged, laughing as she pulled her books out of her locker. I just watched. Bea rolled her eyes. "Yes, he's hot—but that doesn't give him the right to kill anyone who dares step in his way." Jade shut her locker and turned to look down the hallway herself. "Zac Miller is the guy who can do anything he pleases. The world runs the way people like him want it to run."

she yelled after me. I walked into the kitchen to see Blake standing in front of the sink, his hands soapy up to his forearms as he dipped them back into the sink. He had on a tight white tee that showed off his rippling back muscles as he moved around the kitchen. My tongue darted out to wet my lips and I gulped at the sight. I stalked over to him, making sure to be quiet so he wouldn't notice and grabbed his ass, making him jerk in fright.

He'd already made sure that the logs the contestants would be tossing were all the same size and shape, thanks to the skilled craftsmen of the pack. "That's good, that's good!" Michael shouted as Cane, Hans, Seth, and some other young men carried a huge set of bleachers over, stepping to their left as Michael waved them over. "A little more. A little more. Perfect! Put it right there!" The men dropped the structure, four rows of bleachers, complete with backs, and let out exhausted sighs. Michael stood for a moment, stroking his chin. "Now, that doesn't quite look right," he mumbled as Ellie came to stand next to him.

A holographic map of the island bloomed from the floor. "Your first challenge: The Sanguine Ascent," Franco announced, his eyes catching mine through the blue light of the hologram. "Tomorrow at dawn, you climb the Obsidian Ridge. The summit holds a beacon. To claim it is to win the first Sovereignty Credit. But you will wear bio – metric haptic bands. They will broadcast your heart rate, your stress, your fear to everyone else. If you break, they will use it to gut you." Brent scoffed, crossing his arms. "And the reward? Bragging rights?"

Before I could get another word out, we were both overcome by the uproaring sound of frantic screams coming from the bleachers. As we turned our heads, it became clear what caused such a manic reaction. I let out a deflated breath. It would appear that Draven and Adrian had arrived on the field.

He asked me as we watched the pregame events. "Both," "What do you mean by both?" "It means I'm not a banwagon fan," I said chuckling. "Can you play?" He asked me chuckling. "Yeah a little bit," "A little bit?" He asked and I chuckled nodding. "You new players can't really play, the game has gotten soft when I played it was a man's sport, now y'all flopping every chance you get," he said amused. "You played?" I asked him and he nodded before saying.

Marcie “Go, baby, go!” Heather shrieks from the stands next to me, her voice nearly swallowed up by the crowd. I stomp my feet and cheer aimlessly. I lost track of Everett ages ago, but I can tell one of the boys in blue has the ball, and they’re sprinting down the field, which I think is… good? Somehow, in the stands, the cold air stinging my face, wearing more bright blue than I could’ve sworn I owned before I started going to these games with Heather, I don’t really care. Being here isn’t about understanding the game beyond the scoreboard looming over the field, declaring it the final quarter, and the Ardent Alligators are losing to the Bennett Bears by three points.

The heavy rhythmic thrum of the arena drums vibrated down through two hundred feet of solid granite, sending tiny ripples across the dark puddles in the drainage trench. Above, the High-Tier Exhibition matches were commencing. Ten thousand spectators were screaming, cheering, and stomping their feet on the stone bleachers. Down here in the subterranean Beast Pits, the silence was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic scrape of my wooden tool against the damp stone floor.