Leukemia Shirts Novels & Stories

“Why do you look like you’re up to something?” “Because I am,” she said, practically bouncing on her toes. With a dramatic flourish, she pulled out a shirt and held it up in front of me. It was a simple T-shirt, but it was in our school colors with Lombardi written across the back in bold letters and a big glittery #12, Jackson’s jersey number. I blinked, caught completely off guard. “Mariah…” “Don’t even start,” she cut me off, thrusting the shirt into my hands. “You’re wearing this to the pep rally. No arguments.”

Tom said. "But y'all are not in Mt.Olympus no more, you guys are in the city, where people usually wear Chanel, Celine, YsL and Dior!" "What are those?" Jonas asked curiously while looking up to Jiroo naively. "This shirt is from Dior, Liam's shirt is from Celine. They are brands and this is what people usually are wearing." Jiroo explained and they all nod at him, as if they just learned the most amusing things in their life. "Next, ordinary humans don't have powers, do any of you have powers?"

He knew what was written on the shirt – PROUD NAVY SISTER. Chuckling, he thought about the day that they had gone to the art museum. If the fact that JD was in a new uniform with hardly any ranks or ribbons didn’t tell people that they were a Navy family, all the sweatshirts and onesies did. It wasn’t anything that was done intentionally. They had all bought the shirts before leaving for Chicago. PROUD NAVY DAD PROUD NAVY MOM PROUD NAVY BROTHER PROUD NAVY SISTER I HEART MY SAILOR

Otherwise, it will look lean, and a lean battleline is too enticing for my father to resist. “We have to tell him,” Lex says as he follows behind me. This isn’t his first statement of such. He’s said the same thing about a hundred times. I am dressed in black pants and a matching black shirt made of the stretchy material the vampires use for their uniforms, though the cut on my garments is not the same as these troops, so I don’t think it’s officially a uniform. I think it’s just similar, and it fit me, so Nellie brought it to me.

Asap. I can still skip the race. “Enervoltz and Honda placed bets again,” Mark adds. “So one of you better win.” Not money. Never money. Humiliation. Mark and the other team leaders make these bets — or rather … ugly, humiliating dares. Great. We need to win. But the winner can’t slip away. And I need to talk to Mel. Decisions decisions. Absentmindedly, I pull on my gear. Black. Plastered with logos from all our sponsors. Reaper skull and Monster on my sleeves. Stamped on my helmet. My surname across my chest. Etched in lime green on my back are our team name and my number.

Lucas squinted his eyes, trying to remember if he had seen it before. "Isn't this a symbol from a leather jacket?" Leon commented, making Lucas look at the object again. It was a large black button with the logo "LK." Suddenly, Lucas widened his eyes as he recognized the logo. It was the logo of the largest leather jacket brand in America, LKing. Lucas recalled that Luna had been a brand ambassador for LK.

“WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?!” “Whatever do you mean, brother? How would I know? Aren’t those shirts right there?” She said, pointing at the open luggage and feigning innocence. The shirts are in neon colors: pink, green, orange, and yellow. Jude picks up one of the shirts, and the logo reads, ‘GIRLS WANNA HAVE FUN!’ Then he picks up another one, and it has a teddy bear riding a unicorn. Not to mention, they all look a size too small.

Jax looked confused and everyone else laughed. It was an infant sized white t-shirt that said, "I don't snore, I dream I'm a motorcycle". "Keep going. You'll figure it out." Raine smiled. Jax opened the second box and unfolded a black infant tshirt. Written on it is, "Born to be a Biker Just like my Daddy". The third box has two shirts in it in Jax's size. One is white. It has a picture of a motorcycle on it and says, “My Daddy is a Biker”.

Like staring into a shattered rainbow, their colour is the only thing visible in the middle of this black, miserable thunderstorm. I slowly shrug my jacket down my shoulders, if I have to shift and defend myself I’d rather not wreck it. Deep black canvas, waterproof from the rain and dense, it feels like I’m wearing armour. Zeke likes his leather jacket, White Forest have their cloaks. I skulk about like a serial killer. So I’ve heard Naomi and Leona say anyway.

Estella greeted me from behind the bar, "Glad you made it before the match." "Thanks. I see just as many yellow shirts as red." "You stand out if you don't wear your color. We sell Slam shirts for twelve bucks if you want one." "Absolutely. I'm not exactly blending in at the moment." They all laughed as Estella dug out a plastic-wrapped red t-shirt from under the bar. "I'll put it on your tab and you can go change in the bathroom if you want." "Go change. We'll hold your stool," Stub said as she waved me away.