PART ONE | SPRAINED ANKLE

New chick on the school. I don't like attention.

It starts to rain when I finish gathering my belongings on the grass. I hurriedly walk inside the gymnasium with pompoms and my black skipping rope on my hands. The idea of getting wet makes me shudder, I walk faster. It is empty inside since all of my friends already went home an hour ago. The practice is going well as usual, but I think I need extra time to train some moves afterward.

I go to the shower and change into my clean clothes. I don't want to go home in my wet and stinky practice attire that Mom absolutely won't approve of. She doesn't accept any form of unruly behavior.

Everything goes normal as usual until I am about to walk to the exit door. My feet halt in the middle of the hallway which is separating the toilets and the indoor court area. I hear someone is groaning. It sends a shiver through my whole body. I gulp down the lump on my throat. Now my ears are filled with my tumultuous heartbeat. Silly, there is nothing to be afraid of.

"It's just my tired mind," I mutter to myself.

I continue to walk to the exit door with broader steps. Then I freeze in my place once again when the groaning sound reappears. Not just groaning, now I could hear a whimper! Is this the moment when something scary would appear like in a horror movie?

I don't run, instead, my curiosity tempts me to search and find the source of the sound. It comes from behind me, the indoor court area. I turn around, walking slowly past the toilets to the more open area of the indoor court. The light is dim due to the football practice is finished hours ago as well as the cheerleading practice. No one should be here at this hour.

My mind starts playing several scenes from Insidious. Remember the wife walking slowly and unsure in the hallway? That is me right now. I need to prepare myself for the jump scare. The groaning sound is heard again. Louder because I am standing closer to the field. Right now I am sure enough it doesn't come from something scary. It sounds like a boy, who is in a painful condition.

I step closer to the court, my feet are landing on the hardwood floor. My eyes widen as I see someone sitting alone on the bench at the very far side of the court. It is a boy in a black shirt and white football pants. His face flushes crimson from the severe pain. I cannot see his face clearly because his hair falls to his forehead, covering his eyes.

"You okay?" I shout from afar. My voice echoes through the empty court. It seems to startle him by the look on his face. He looks up to see me standing on the opposite side of the court. Now I can see his crimson face. The boy watches me closely as I walk toward him. His eyes do not leave my face at all. I tighten my grip on the strap of my shoulder bag to hide my nervousness.

He doesn't seem will answer my prior question so I ask him one more time, "What's wrong?" Realizing that his right leg is straightened to the floor. I can see a swollen and reddened ankle since the shoe is already removed, leaving his right foot bare.

I am standing close to him while he sits still on the bench, head tilts to look at me. His brown hair seems wet from the exercise he does earlier. "Nothing. I'm fine," he rasps.

"Doesn't look like that." I sit beside him, eyeing his ankle.

"Yeah, actually... I'm in a bit of pain." He chuckles, the crimson on his face is subsiding. "Accidentally, fell on my ankle."

I frown. "It must be really hurt."

"Why are you still here? It's late." He cocks his eyebrow, completely ignoring my comment. "I thought cheerleading practice was done long ago."

I don't know who this boy is. But, by the white pants, he is wearing I can tell he is on the school football team. I don't mean to be rude, but I am still trying to adapt to this new school. Growing up in another city makes me unfamiliar with the kids around here. The fact that he notices me on the cheerleader team makes me a bit uneasy. How can he know that? I am not even wearing my uniform now.

"I need an extra practice hour," I answer shortly. Not comfortable enough to clarify that I need more time to practice.

He nods. His face doesn't resemble any kind of mockery. "What's your name?"

His sudden query throws me out of the guard. I part my lips to answer but he already speaks again. "It's Tara-Jane, innit?" I recognize the accent in his voice. I nod my head, speechless to how he knows my name too.

"Pretty name, pretty face," he comments. I feel a weird feeling in my stomach just by hearing that. "You don't ask me back. You know, that's rude," he playfully pouts. His eyes gleam with amusement.

I cannot help myself from smiling. He has the humor even with a sprained ankle. "So, what's your name?"

"Harrington," he says, lifting his right hand for a handshake. I look down at his large hand and take the offer. "Jeremy Harrington."

That's how I meet Jeremy in the rainy September.

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