Chapter 8: What the hell Jason?!

Jason Davenport

Practice time. The only period I ever looked forward to at school, other than picking on Amelia, that is.

Classes were over now and the team was in the field doing basic warm ups before the main practice began.

Amelia, as I'd told her to, was seated on the bleachers, watching blankly, my stuff beside her. Just to make sure she was actually watching and not doing something else, like pressing her darned phone, I kept one eye on the field and the other on her. It wasn't as hard as it sounded.

Shortly after the warm up, the main practice kicked off at the sound of Coach Hens's whistle.

Okay, yes, I looked forward to practice, pretty much everyday at school, but on some days, some occasions, like today, when it was devilishly hot, I might as well pass it up.