His Heartwarming Secret

CHAPTER 4

I blow out forcefully, trying to move a strand of hair that's loose from my ponytail. Carrying the bag of footballs is probably the most exercise I've done in a year. This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

"Speed it up Winters!" Mrs Hollins yells, her irritating voice floating through the air. I roll my eyes knowing that she can't see me from the distance between us.

"Speed it up Winters! Do this Winters!" I mutter to myself, mimicking Mrs Hollins. I give up attempting to carry the bag and instead throw it down onto the ground before dragging it from the handle. I'm not exactly the tallest or strongest girl in my gym class.

I drag the bag until it's next to Mrs Hollins and take my place back in line. She begins to lecture the girls on a football tournament so I zone out, ignoring her. My thoughts turn back to Mystery Boy and I turn slightly, peeking at the boys class who are practicing across the field from us.

From this distance, I can't make out anything beside their hair colour. More than half of the boys running around have dark hair - fail. I sigh heavily, giving up and turning back around to face Mrs Hollins who's low key glaring at me from the side.

"Winters! You're on Beatrice's team," she yells over to me and I immediately feel my lungs tighten and my breathing shallow out. I remain rooted to the spot, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Winters, move now!" Coach Hollins yells over at me, blowing her whistle in order to snap me out of my little daze. I immediately scurry over to Beatrice's team who are all glaring at me. If looks could kill, I'd be buried 6 feet under right now.

Beatrice's hand lurches out, gripping onto my elbow tightly and I stop, frozen to the spot. The skin contact with her makes my stomach turn with nausea. She leans in until I can feel her hot breath fanning against my ear as she speaks.

"Stay out of my way, mute."

Her tone is threatening, low and vicious.

My eyes widen and I nod, letting her know I understand. Beatrice releases my elbow and I cradle it to my chest before scurrying away from her. I stand behind the group, out of sight. The familiar feeling of my lungs tightening fills my chest and I close my eyes, forcing myself to calm down. I can't have a panic attack . . .

Not now. Not here.

What am I going to do?