Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)(14)

Edmund had chosen a seat in the front row about two sections over, the red-headed boy still right beside him. The boy looked almost protective, like he was supposed to be Edmunds’s bodyguard. I had never seen him before, so I guess he could be. What bothered me the most about him was that he kept standing and looking at the crowd. It wasn’t the casual glance for trouble; it was the deep stare of someone who was searching for something or someone. Several times his look lingered in my direction, and I felt my spine stiffen uncomfortably.

Even with the mysterious boy’s continued stares, the game went by quickly, and I found myself enjoying it more than I had thought I would. I couldn’t help but join in with the crowd’s excited screams and cheers; their excitement was infectious, and before long, I was smiling from ear to ear. Ryland was right; a good Rugby game was the pick-me-up I needed. The Whittier Academy team made a scramble toward their line and I got swept up in the screams and hollers of hundreds of boys, anticipation of another goal resonating through everyone.

Ryland’s team had the ball, passing it from teammate to teammate as they ran down the pitch. The ball got to Ryland, only for him to be tackled roughly by the opposing team when two players lunged at him, sending him backward into three more. All five members of the opposing team and Ryland went down in a spectacular heap of bodies. The ball continued on; however, it took a moment before Ryland stood again, a bit of blood dripping from a cut on his lip.

I stood in worry. I must have looked ridiculous because I heard Tyler laugh beside me.

“He’s fine,” he yelled over the roar or the crowd. “It’s normal.”

I nodded as I looked back to the field to see that Ryland had already run to rejoin the play. I had seen a few of these tackles during this game alone, but it still seemed rough, given that the players wore no padding. I sat down; aware that Edmund’s bodyguard was staring in my direction.

Ryland jostled back into place among the running bodies. The ball quickly passed to him, but this time, he avoided all of the other players as he weaved around each of them. Once he passed them, the wide expanse of field lay before him. He took off in a dead run toward the goal line, his strong legs pumping him forward until he reached the other end of the field for a glorious goal. Our side of the stadium erupted as Ryland turned around in a sort of victory salute.

“26 – 19, with one minute left. We are State Champs!” Tyler yelled, drowning out the voice of the announcer who tried in vain to say that Ryland had scored the winning points.

Ryland continued to dance and move about as the members from his team surrounded him. He sought me out before blowing a kiss in my direction. I looked around for who his gesture was aimed at before turning back to him in shock. What a dangerous thing to do with his father right there. I wasn’t sure if I should be overjoyed or scared. My eyes locked with his, as my heart stuttered to a stop before he turned and ran back onto the field. I couldn’t bring myself to move.

“I didn’t know you and Ryland were like that,” Tyler yelled suggestively in my ear.

My mind clicked back into action and I turned to face him. “What?”

“You know. I didn’t know he loved you.” He stretched out his vowels in a taunt. I stared at him, unsure of what to say. I looked away from Tyler, not wanting to give him the glory of an answer, confused about what I would say anyway.

The finality of the game explained the excitement level of the crowd. Everyone was yelling at the top of their lungs, jumping up and down. Banners of blue and silver waved all around me as the boys began the deep booming war-cry that was the signature of their team. I couldn’t help but join in, knowing my petite voice would not even be heard among them.

The ending whistle sounded and the stands emptied as the occupants rushed the field. The banners multiplied, and the screaming and yelling increased in amplitude—if that was possible. I was swept up with them in the excitement, forgetting that Ryland’s father was still in such close proximity. I didn’t care, though; I wanted to find Ryland somewhere in the crowd and throw myself in his arms and congratulate him.

I made it about halfway to the field before a sharp pain shot into my chest, causing me to stop short. It felt like I had been burned. My hand moved to the pain, shocked to feel Ryland’s necklace red hot under my sweater. As soon as my hand made contact with it, the heat left it, taking the pain away. I looked at my hand and sweater, expecting to see welts or scorch marks, but nothing was there. I continued to stand in place as the crowd jostled me around in their attempts to pass my stationary form.

One perfectly placed shoulder was all it took to take me down. The force of the jolt sent me down hard. I threw my hands out in front of me, but not in time. My knee hit first, meeting the hard asphalt of the track that surrounded the field, a jolt of pain surging through my leg. My hands hit next, sliding against the asphalt in a deep grind that rattled my wrists. I winced with the pain that moved through my joints, waiting for my brain to catch up with me. A warm, stinging sensation spread across my knee, a telltale sign I was bleeding.

The bodies flowed past me in a steady stream I could barely see through. Knees, feet and legs jostled me around, digging my injured joints further into the ground. I looked around for some form of safety from them.

I had just caught sight of the home team’s benches when a giant tug grew out of my chest; it felt like someone had grabbed the necklace in an attempt to pull me toward safety. I followed the inward pull, my hand fluttering around my sweater to shoo away whatever was pulling at me.