âĻ Michaline Roran Walker âĻ
The sun beat down on her as Michaline stretched. Her joints cracked and snapped into place as she did so, her muscles relaxing into languidness. There were a number of students crowded around the fence of the tennis court, even though it was only practice.She usually attracted this sort of crowd, even during practices. Doesn't all of the best of any sport?
She sighed, feeling eyes on her, and it made her skin crawl. But there was one pair of eyes that she could feel above all of the others, ones that weren't just watching her, they felt as though they were devouring her. Her blood-red eyes scanned the crowd as she shielded her eyes with her right hand. She was met with a similar pair of eyes.
No, not similar. Identical. Max was staring straight at her, Shirlee standing next to him, looking like a small, excited child. Her brother, and her best friend. She smiled slightly, waving at them.
Thwock
A tennis ball shot past her, narrowly missing her eyes. Her whole body stiffened, and then she turned towards the direction the ball had came, a scowl on her face. Well, she wasn't smiling, but her mouth was simply a line. Her eyes, however, read hatred. The second best player on the team met her eyes. Michaline didn't know her name, and she didn't care. Mic bounced a tennis ball a few times before throwing it up in the air.
Mickey wasn't the best on the team for nothing. She watched as the ball fell, and she launched her body up to meet it, both feet leaving the ground as she hit the ball. She had the fastest serve in the county at seventy-two miles per hour. However, because of what she was planning to do, she held back quite a bit, dropping it to about ten miles an hour, if that.
The ball hit the girl squarely in the face, and sent her sprawling backwards, blood running from her nose. She let out a shriek as the other players rushed over to her, while the coaches merely sat back hiding snickers. And failing. Michaline shot the girl a smirk before turning back to the crowd.
She noticed one person in the crowd, who wasn't actually in the crowd. She was hanging back, as if not sure if she should mingle or run away. Michaline knew her immediately. Dakota Duvall, the girl who had gone from Miss Popular to the bottom of the pile, below even Mickey and the other "misfits". The whole school had been humming with her name.
Not that Michaline cared. Or at least, that's what she told herself.
With a shrug of disregaurd played off by pretending to stretch out her shoulder, she began to bounce a tennis ball once more.
"All right. Who's next? I promise...I won't break your nose. At least...not on purpose."