Hello everyone! My name is Rachel Meinke, or some of you may know me as knightsrachel from my life over on Wattpad. It’s such an honor to be a part of this year’s Blogfest, and I’m so excited to share my post with you.
So I asked you guys what you wanted to see, and an overwhelming majority of you guys asked for a sneak preview of one of my stories that I’ve been working on. After much debate, I’ve decided to go with the story Saving Adam.
Sarah Campbell has everything she’s ever wanted. She worked day and in and day out for her acceptance to her dream school, Vanderbilt University. And now that she’s got it she can’t wait to finally let loose. She never was the goodie-two-shoes her parents thought she was, but with a new start here at Vandy, she’s really ready to make a name for herself. Except she already has one. Sarah Campbell, Peer Mentor.
Sarah’s been volunteering as a peer mentor at Vanderbilt since she was in high school, so it’s no shock to her when her boss asks her to take on the hardest case of the semester.
Cue Adam Watson.
Adam Watson is ready to move out and move on. With a past riddled with mistakes, he’s ready to create a new future for himself. The only problem? Vanderbilt isn’t so forgiving. He’s handed his acceptance and football scholarship with one condition, that he meets with a peer mentor once a week.
After a serious warning from the head coach, and threats of being kicked off the team, Adam realizes that the only way he’s going to keep his starting position is by actually attending these meetings once a week. Even if it’s not by choice.
Sarah Campbell and Adam Watson’s worlds collide in a unique set of circumstances, and neither one of them are necessarily thrilled about it. But as Sarah begins to spend more time with Adam, she realizes that there’s more to him than what meets the eye. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a piece of him worth saving.
“Sarah!” I heard my best friend calling.
No more than five seconds later, her body was running through the doorway, tackling me onto my freshly made dorm room bed.
“Can you believe it?” Aubrey giggled, sprawling out on my bed next to me. “We’re finally here. Vandy Sarah, our dream.”
It really wasn’t a surprise to me.
I’d spent the last two years working to be here. I’d dual enrolled at their sister community college, earning my AA degree at the same time I’d earned my high school diploma. I volunteered hours here at Vanderbilt University itself, working as a peer mentor for college students who needed an extra hand.
As a technical Junior in college, who was treated like a Freshman here at Vanderbilt, I’d applied with very little doubt in my mind that I’d receive my acceptance letter that spring.
Even if my volunteer work here at Vanderbilt didn’t speak for itself, my academics did that for me. I graduated third in my class with a 4.47 GPA, thanks to all the dual enrollment I spent my Junior and Senior years of high school doing.
Vanderbilt had been my dream since I’d stepped foot onto it’s campus at nine years old, my eldest brother enrolling here his Freshman year of college. I knew this school was practically made for me. And I was going to do everything in my power to ensure that I attended school here.
“I have to get a photo to document this moment,” Aubrey informed me, pulling out her selfie stick.
“Do not bring that hideous thing into my line of sight,” I declined.
“Shut up and smile.”
I let out a long, dramatic sigh before obliging, smiling for Aubrey’s picture.
“I have to go,” I said, rolling off of my bed.
“No,” Aubrey pouted, jutting out her bottom jaw. “There’s so much we have to do, so much we have to see.”
“I’ll only be gone an hour tops,” I promised, stepping in front of the mirror to check my outfit.
Aubrey and I, although best friends since practically birth, were stark opposites of each other.
Aubrey was blonde, though not entirely natural, her hair falling as straight as a board down her back. She hated it, complained about it almost every day. I thought it was gorgeous. She was petite, standing at a mere 5’2. Aubrey was also much curvier than I was, thicker in most places, which made sharing clothes pretty much impossible.
I, on the other hand, had brunette hair that fell in uncontrollable, messy waves. My hair wasn’t nearly as long, falling just below my bust as it framed my brown eyes. There were nothing special about my eyes, they were just a simple brown. I stood at 5’5, a reasonable height, but it made wearing heels on a date a challenge. And although I had some boobs and a little bit of a butt, I didn’t have many curves to me. I was just thin, no matter what I did. I’d tried eating a ridiculous amount, I’d tried working out to gain muscle tone, I’d tried everything. I was just destined to remain stick figure thin.
“Are you finished checking yourself out?” Aubrey called, from where she was standing by the door.
I checked my outfit one last time.
I was wearing a pair of maroon shorts and a black v-neck, simple for move-in day.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I called back, turning away from the mirror and leaving my dorm room.
I was rooming with Aubrey, but I had yet to my suitemates, the two people next door with whom we shared with a bathroom with.
“Where do you have to go that’s so damn important?” Aubrey huffed, casting me a look.
“To the peer mentor’s office.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m a Junior now,” I defended. “I get my pick of the draw. And I don’t want to get left with the ones that nobody wants.”
“You’re still technically a Freshman,” Aubrey pointed out.
To Vanderbilt I was still technically a Freshman until all my transcripts transferred in and I officially started classes, which wouldn’t be for another few days.
So I still had to follow Freshman rules, at least for the first semester. I had to live on-campus and attend Freshman orientation and listen to people tell me how to be the college student I’ve been for two years now.
I told my parents that they didn’t have to come to orientation with me. As the youngest of seven, they’ve had their fair share of college orientations and knew how the game was played. But they suited up in their Vanderbilt gear and happily came down to Freshman orientation with me over the summer, like two newbies in the whole process instead of two parents who have now sent five kids to college, three of them to Vanderbilt.
“Okay, you go do your stupid peer mentor thing,” Aubrey huffed, casting me a look. “But we’re going out tonight.”
“Oh you know it.”
A sly smile spread across her face and I couldn’t help but laugh.
Growing up around Vanderbilt, I knew the ins and outs, including where to party.
I left Aubrey to head upstairs inside of the Student Government Association.
“Good morning Sarah,” Janice greeted.
“Mark is back in his office.”
I went back in the winding hallways, finding the peer mentoring office.
Both Geraldine and Tyrel were in there, sorting through different applications.
“Hey Sarah,” Mark greeted.
He was sitting behind his desk, his feet propped up on a section void of paperwork.
“Who got David?” Tyrel asked, tossing his pile of papers down.
“Pauleen was in here really early to claim her prize.”
As a Junior, one of the perks was that I finally got to choose my own applicant instead of getting assigned the bottom of the barrel.
Getting assigned applicants meant that you got the people that nobody else wanted. The ones that didn’t really want to be in the program, were assigned to be there either by their athletic department or by the school itself. Or sometimes even both. You got the kids that never showed up to their face-to-face meetings, that never answered your attempts of contact. And if it was someone that was assigned to be in the program, you had to continually reach out to them, by force of the school. It was a no-win situation.
So as a Junior, I finally got to pick the student I wanted. Someone that would be willing to show up to the meetings and talk to me instead of me talking to them. Someone that actually wanted my mentorship.
“Actually Sarah,” Mark said, interrupting my train of thought. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“That’s never good,” Geraldine muttered.
Mark casted her a look as he led me out of his office, shutting the door behind us.
“I am a Junior,” I pointed out. “Despite what Vanderbilt says.”
“I know that,” Mark agreed. “You’ve been working with me two years, this is your third. You’re a third-year.”
“Okay, then what’s up?”
“I have an applicant,” he said, with a slight grimace.
“Just hear me out first.”
I let out a long sigh, narrowing my eyes at him.
Mark always did this to me. I always got the runt of the litter, ever since I managed to turn around Weston Thomas. Weston was a no-show, void of contact, forced to be in the program kid. He’d been in the program two years. And as a Freshman peer mentor, I’d forced him to show up to meetings, forced him to talk to me, and he’d even started putting in some effort in his classes. And now he was on track to graduate.
Somehow that had deemed me as the go-to person for troublesome applicants.
“His name is Adam Watson,” Mark continued. “Freshman, got him over the summer.”
It was rare to get a Freshman applicant over the summer. Usually Vanderbilt admitted problem students over the summer to test their ability to survive here at Vanderbilt. If they did well enough, they maintained their acceptance here at the school with the condition that they’d join the peer mentor program. Which is where it went downhill.
“Football player,” Mark informed me.
That made more sense.
“He’s a once a week, face-to-face applicant by the request of Vanderbilt and the athletic department.”
This was only getting worse. Once a week, face-to-face meant that he was a problem applicant. Vanderbilt didn’t trust him. And if it was by request of both Vanderbilt and the athletic department, it meant he was in some serious shit.
“So what’s the problem?” I muttered.
“We got his application beginning of summer. I read it over, realized that it wasn’t a usual case, so I assigned Margaret to his file.”
Margaret. She was a Senior, knew her way around the program.
“She couldn’t get him to show up once.”
“During the entire summer?”
“Not once,” Mark clarified. “She tried everything, I swear to God.”
“I don’t want his case.”
“I know you don’t. But if you don’t take it, I’m running out of options. And I don’t want to have to report him to Vandy, you know how much I hate that. It looks bad on the program, and it’s going cause a mess.”
“Why? He’s a Freshman, they’ll find a new one.”
“He’s the starting QB.”
QB 1, of course.
“Just give it a shot Sarah? For me.”
“I hate this shit Mark.”
“He’ll be your only file for the semester. And I swear I’ll give you stellar recommendations for anything and everything you need. I’ll do anything you want Sarah, just give this kid a shot.”
I didn’t want to. Every fiber of my being was telling me no.
But Mark seemed desperate. And this was the entire reason I joined the peer mentor program, to help people. Even if those people didn’t necessarily want my help.
“Why is he even in the peer mentor program?” I questioned.
“You know I can’t release that information to you. If he tells you himself, that’s one thing. But I can’t bias you as a mentor.”
“I know. But it would make things easier.”
I let out a long sigh, staring at Mark as he anxiously awaited my response.
“Fine Mark, I’ll do it.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “Thank you Sarah, you have no idea how much this means to me.”
“You owe me,” I said, shoving him off of me. “Big time.”
“I swear Sarah, anything you want, it’s yours.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
We walked back into his office, where Tyrel and Geraldine were both signing out their three files for the semester.
“Did you guys get Joel?” I asked.
“As if,” Geraldine scoffed.
“Joel’s one of the first ones gone,” Tyrel declined.
Mark reviewed their files, signed off on them, and they went on their way.
He then turned around and handed me Adam’s file. “There’s everything you need to know.”
I signed my name on the paper, and Mark signed off on my selection.
“Good luck,” he said, with a salute.
“Luck has nothing to do with it.”
I headed back downstairs, a plan already staring to formulate in my head.
Adam Watson was about to learn who’s in charge.
I felt a strong arm pull around my neck, and I was being pulled backwards, another hand brushing across the top of my head for a noogie.
“Joel Campbell!” I shrieked. “Get your filthy hands off of me.”
My older brother chuckled. “What’s the magic word?”
“Feisty as always baby sister,” he said, releasing me. He offered me a lopsided smile.
I glared at him, but my anger could only last so long.
Joel was the goofy one of the family, his lopsided smile his signature. Of the three of us to go to Vanderbilt, he was the only one to come here on an athletic scholarship, a wrestling scholarship. And he’d produced well for the wrestling team here, even making to State last year.
“You look like a woman on a mission,” Joel continued.
“Well don’t let me interrupt you,” he said, with a laugh. “Just wanted to check-in. Did you get your stuff moved in and everything?”
“Yeah, no thanks to you.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Would you believe me if I said my alarm didn’t go off?”
“Not a day in my life.” I shook my head. “What’re you doing over on this part of campus?”
“Just have some business to attend to.”
That sounded mysterious.
“What kind of business?” I questioned, narrowing my eyes a bit.
“I got this email from my department head, something about not having enough credits to graduate.”
He waved me off. “I’m going to take care of it right now,” he said, with that laidback attitude of his. “Everything’s fine.”
“Everything is not fine,” I declined. “You’re supposed to graduate in the Spring.”
“Didn’t your peer mentor help you sign up for classes?”
That was part of the job of being a peer mentor, making sure the people you were mentoring were on-track in their classes.
Joel had been a part of the peer mentor program since his Sophomore year of college, which is how I’d found out about the program in the first place.
Joel is a face-to-face, once a week program admit, by request of the athletic department, which usually peer mentors stray away from. However, Joel is very compliant. He shows up to all of his meetings, he’s easy to be around, and people generally like him. And that makes him one of the first applicants to go.
“Something like that,” Joel said, waving me off once again. “I told you, I’ve got it under control.”
That was such a Joel answer.
“If you say so,” I said, shaking my head at him.
“You going out tonight?” Joel asked.
“You know me,” I said, with a sly smile.
“I know you’re not the goodie two-shoes you have mom and dad fooled into thinking you are,” Joel accused, with a laugh. “Just be careful, alright? Need me to show you around?”
“I think I got it.”
“Alright. You got my number if you need me.”
The two of us parted ways, and I made my way down to the football practice fields, one mission on my mind.
The football team was just finishing up their practice, and I spotted the group of redshirts, which signified the quarterbacks at practice.
I’d never been big into football, but I knew enough to get by.
I didn’t know which one was Adam. I only had the picture in his file to go by, and the players on the field were all currently in helmets and pads.
I left the practice fields, heading into the athletic department building.
“May I help you?” a young boy asked as I let myself inside, staring at me as though I was some type of foreign species.
“Yeah, I need to speak with the football coach,” I informed him. “Head coach.”
“He’s holding practice right now.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I don’t have an appointment with the football coach.”
Is that a joke?
“He’s pretty busy today,” the boy informed me. “I can take your name and-”
I turned and left the athletic department building, heading down to the locker rooms where practice had just let out into.
Fuck waiting, I’m talking to the coach.
I let myself into the locker room, much to the surprise of some of the guys inside.
“I think you’re in the wrong locker room,” one of the guys said to me.
I just strode past him, and the majority of the guys staring at me like I’d completely lost my marbles, and I let myself into the coach’s office inside the locker room.
The coach, whose name I still didn’t know, was sitting behind his desk.
“Watson, I told you to-” the coach started. But he stopped short when I realized that I was not Watson, who I assume was Adam.
“Out of my locker room,” he ordered, his gaze darkening. “I don’t allow girlfriends during practice hours.”
I closed the door behind me. “Well that’s good, because I hear to be a girlfriend you have to have a boyfriend first.”
Or a girlfriend, depending on which teaming you’re batting for.
He stared at me, his gaze unwavering.
“Sarah Campbell,” I introduced, heading over to his desk. “My name may not be familiar, but you may know the name Adam Watson?”
“What about it?”
I picked up a piece of scrap paper off his desk, scribbling my name and number onto it. “Adam hasn’t shown up a single one of his peer mentor meetings.”
The coach’s gaze darkened.
“I know that you know that his meetings are mandatory not only by the athletic department, but by Vanderbilt Administration itself,” I said, handing him the piece of paper with my name and number on it. “Tell Adam he has three days to contact and meet with me before I go to the athletic department and report his absences.”
“I’m sure we can work something out,” the coach said, taking the paper from me.
“I figured you’d think as much,” I stated, with a nod. “Is there another way out of this locker room? Or do I need to exit through the naked male bodies again?”
“Same way you came in.”
“Fantastic. I look forward to hearing from your Quarterback.”
And then I turned on my heel and left the coach’s office, ignoring the stares on my back once again as I left the football locker room.
Which is much nicer than the wrestling locker room might I add.
“Alright, I’ve figured it out,” Terrence announced.
“Is that so?” I asked, my eyes never leaving the Saints vs. Falcons game.
“You just put this piece here, and then this piece fits nicely over here, and viola, you have a chair,” Terrence announced.
“The real test is when you sit in it,” I informed him, glancing away from the game to admire his handiwork.
It looked like a chair. But I’d known Terrence for the past 6 years of my life, and along the way I’ve learned several things about him. One of which being that he isn’t a handyman. He can’t change a tire, he can’t work a fire extinguisher, and he can’t put together anything that comes from IKEA, including this chair that he’d just bought.
“How did you put together your futon?” Terrence inquired, as he peered at his chair, his eyebrows furrowed.
“With this magical booklet that comes with it called instructions.”
He casted me a look, clearly unimpressed with my sarcasm.
I chuckled, refocusing on the game.
“Wait, what’s this?” Terrence asked.
“Watching the game,” I informed him. “Ask later.”
“It’s probably just an extra piece.”
“IKEA doesn’t just throw extra pieces into the box,” I declined.
“If you’re so great, you come build this damn chair.”
“It’s not my chair, and I built this futon.”
The game broke for commercial, and I leaned over, grabbing my glass that was resting on my top of my mini-fridge before looking back over at Terrence, who was holding the piece in his hand and staring at the chair with a puzzled expression on his face.
I took a swig of my drink before sliding off my futon.
“You’re going to help me?” Terrence asked, with a hopeful smile.
“I’m going to pee,” I declined.
He rolled his eyes, his eyes briefly sliding to the glass in my hand before refocusing on his chair. “Well fuck you too.”
I rested the glass on my mini-fridge again before heading to the bathroom.
It was locked.
“Every damn time,” Terrence said, with a laugh.
I cursed under my breath, retreating from the bathroom to await Toby’s exit.
“You two are connected at the bladder, I swear to God,” Terrence said, a smirk plastered across his face.
“It’s not funny. I need to fucking pee.”
And then the door clicked open, Toby striding into our room right as the game came back on.
Now I had a decision to make.
“I’ll keep you updated,” Terrence promised, flopping down on my futon.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Go now and you won’t miss too much.”
I let out a long sigh, heading into the bathroom.
“The ball’s been snapped!” Terrence called. “Brees is back to pass. He let’s the ball fly. It’s going, it’s going. And it’s caught by Graham for the first down and more. Hell yeah, Jimmy Graham with a 16-yard reception.”
I exited the bathroom, flipping Terrence off as I washed my hands in the sink.
“You’re welcome,” Terrence retorted.
I picked my drink back up, finishing it off. “How’s the chair coming?”
“Fuck you Adam.”
“Laurence has that chair,” Toby informed Terrence. “I’m pretty sure he put it together.”
“Oh great, let’s just have a suite party,” I said, the sarcasm evident in my voice.
“When will he be back?” Terrence asked, glancing over at his chair.
“After dinner probably,” Toby said, his eyes on the game.
I couldn’t focus with everyone talking.
“When are we going to get dinner?” Terrence asked me.
“Can I please just get through the third quarter?” I asked, glaring at him before refocusing on the game.
Silence stretched across the dorm room for a few moments.
“Wait, I missed that play,” Toby spoke up. “Who caught it for the first down?”
“I think it was Morgan,” Terrence mused. “Oh wait, maybe it was Colston. Adam, did you see?”
“Forget it,” I muttered, standing up. “I’m going to go smoke and then we can go.”
“Not in here!” Terrence called behind me.
I just let the door shut behind me, leaning against the hallway wall as I pulled my vape out of my pocket.
I took a couple of hits from my e-cigarette, settling my nicotine addiction, before sliding my vape back into my pocket and re-entering my dorm room.
“You all set?” Terrence asked. “Want a recap of what you missed?”
“I do not want a fucking recap of what I missed,” I growled, shutting off the TV. “Let’s just go get some food.”
I stared at my closet in front of me, chewing my bottom lip.
“Come on you metrosexual asshole!” Terrence called. “You’re going to make us late for breakfast.”
“You can’t be late for breakfast,” I declined.
“You can when your coach tells you to be there at a certain time, and you’re late because you can’t decide what to fucking wear.”
I ignored him, glancing up at the color scale plastered on the wall atop of my closet before glancing down at my options again.
“What’s the issue?” Terrence asked, joining me on my side of the room.
“There’s no issue,” I stated. “Give me ten minutes.”
Terrence let out a frustrated growl, giving me a look before heading over to Toby and Laurence’s room.
I finally decided on a light blue button up with the sleeves rolled to my elbows. I headed over to my dresser drawers, leafing through my shorts until I found the pair that were red.
I checked the tag on the inside just to be sure, and they were marked red, so I slid them on.
“You good to go?” Terrence asked, coming back into my room.
“Blue?” I asked, pointing to my shirt.
“Red?” I asked, pointing to my shorts.
He nodded again, snatching his phone off his desk.
I slipped my feet into my white Sperrys, sitting off to the side of my bed.
I was absolutely sure these were my white Sperrys, because I’d worn them yesterday.
“That’s what I had to wait thirty minutes for?” Terrence questioned, as I headed over to the mirror in our room, fixing my hair.
“Shut the hell up. I could be a worse roommate you know,” I retorted.
Terrence just rolled his eyes.
I picked up my orange juice that was resting on top of my mini-fridge, tilting my head back and finishing it off.
“We’re now officially fifteen minutes late,” Terrence commented, as we left our dorm room. “When we’re running extra suicides at practice, I’m blaming you.”
“Blame me all you want. Thirty minutes is barely enough time to throw together an outfit.”
“Then wake up earlier.”
We took the elevator down, and I just smiled at him. “We’ll be fine.”
“You say that every morning.”
“And every morning we’re still fine.”
“Because you’re QB 1,” Terrence muttered.
“There are perks to everything in life. I show up early to practice because I’m QB 1. That’s not a perk, but it comes with the position, and I do it for my position on the team. But I show up late to breakfast. And I get away with it because I’m QB 1. That’s a perk. It’s a blessing Terrence, we’re lucky.”
He just shook his head, but I could tell that he wasn’t mad anymore.
“Good practice Watson,” Coach Ludwig said, slapping me on the pads.
I ripped off my helmet, helping myself to some water. “Thanks Coach.”
“Adam, get showered and changed and then meet me in my office,” Coach Mason said, before heading into the locker rooms.
I looked over at Coach Ludwig for some direction.
“He wants to talk about the upcoming game on Friday,” Coach Ludwig informed me. “First game of the season, we need our A-Team out there.”
“Am I not that?”
“Not with that ego.”
I chuckled, heading into the locker room. I ditched my pads, locking them up inside my locker before heading off into the showers.
Perks of being QB 1, I get one of the first showers.
I was always one of the last ones out of the locker room though, staying behind to talk to the coaches after practice and sometimes staying for some extra practice.
I always needed to be on my A-game. I had a lot to prove to Coach Mason. He’d gone out on a limb for me with Vanderbilt, and I didn’t take that lightly.
Coach Mason was the only reason I was still playing football to this day.
I finished up my shower, wrapping a towel around my waist and heading back out into the locker rooms.
“Dude, did you see the girl that just let herself in here?” Terrence asked me.
“No,” I declined, pulling a dry-fit shirt over my head. “Bet Coach was pissed.”
“She let herself right into his office.”
I would’ve paid money to see his face.
“I’ll catch up with you,” I said, after pulling on a pair of sweatpants over my Nike Combats.
I headed into Coach Mason’s office, letting the door close behind me. “You wanted to see me coach?”
“Sit,” he ordered, his voice taking a hard edge.
That was never good.
I tried to think about my performance on the football field today as I took a seat. I thought I did pretty well, unusually well actually. Coach Ludwig had even commented on my improvement.
Coach Mason was silent for a few moments, jotting some stuff down on the paper in front of him.
I ran my fingers through my hair, which was still wet from my shower.
“Do you realize what I had to do to get you onto this team?” Coach Mason asked, setting his pen down and looking me directly in the eye.
“Yes sir,” I said, staring directly back at him. “I can’t ever thank you enough for giving me a chance-”
“Then explain this to me,” Coach Mason said, interrupting my spiel to hand me a piece of paper.
“I don’t know?” I said, looking back up at him. “I don’t know a Sarah Campbell.”
“That’s the problem,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Peer mentoring Adam, once a week. That was the deal.”
Shit. Not this again.
I’d tried to explain to Vanderbilt when I got here that peer mentorship was the stupidest shit they could try to force me into. There wasn’t a single person on this campus I wanted to talk to, outside of my current friends and my team.
But Vanderbilt would have none of that, submitting my application and telling me that I had to show up to this program once a week.
I figured that if I didn’t go, they’d eventually forget about it altogether. With the number of students Vanderbilt had, I couldn’t be at the top of their hit list.
But apparently that decision was coming back to haunt me.
“Adam, you don’t take care of this, I have no choice but to bench you,” Coach Mason informed me.
“Coach, I’ve done nothing but perform for you all summer,” I reasoned. “Even today you said-”
“It doesn’t matter what I say,” he interrupted. “This is above my head, do you get that?”
“It’s just some peer mentorship program. Can’t you talk to someone, tell them that I don’t need it?”
“No Adam, I can’t do that. I had to sign off on this to get you onto this team. We had an agreement.”
I let out a long sigh, reaching up with my right hand to massage my temples.
I had enough on my plate. With classes starting in a couple of days, I was going to be a Freshman in college trying to lead Vanderbilt to a winning football season.
I did not need to deal with this peer mentor bullshit.
“You have until tomorrow to deal with this,” Coach Mason snapped. “Or you’re benched. Do I make myself clear?”
“And you can stay after practice tomorrow as well, make up for all those meetings that you skipped on the field.”
Fuck my life.
“Do I make myself clear?” Coach Mason demanded, when I didn’t say anything.
“Good. Go take care of this.”
I stood up from the chair, leaving his office with the paper clenched in my hand.
Sarah Campbell was dead to me.
Meet The Author
Hi guys! My name is Rachel, and I live in Florida. I’m a full-time student, and I’m currently attending the University of Central Florida. (Go Knights!) I’m 20 years old, and I’ve been posting my stories online for 4 years now. I’m not currently published, but I’m working towards that goal.
In my free time, some of my favorite things to do are to go to the beach, watch Netflix, and read. A lot. I also have an addiction to stress shopping. My favorite things to buy, that I have more than enough of, are clothes, vinyls, and candles.
You can find me at the following Social Media links:
Make sure to check out the other blogfest authors!!!
Make sure to check out the other blogfest authors!!!