midnight hour - K S (good fiction books to read .txt) 📗
- Author: K S
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“No,” she sobbed her hands cupped her face to hide how ashamed she was. I took out a piece of paper and a pencil from my backpack, and then wrote on it: even so I love you, Mother.
She hadn’t looked up since she said no so I left the note next to her on her bed. Getting up from the seat I wiped away my tears, no crying Ms. Wimp.
“Bye,” I whispered then ran out of the room not allowing myself to hear her sobbing any longer.
I ran until I reached the bus stop and when I did I was breathlessly helpless, thinking that I didn’t have a home any longer. My fake father hated me, my mother wasn’t even my mother, and it was because of me that they fought. The bus stopped only a few moments later, but I was so emotional that when he opened the bus doors my tears spilled.
“I told myself not to cry,” I whispered shaking my head, feeling like a coward. As I passed the driver I handed him the money for the bus ride without a word. As I slipped into the nearest empty seat I sighed. Jasmine is going to hate me, I thought looking at my watch that was saying that it was 30 minutes after lunch ended. I took out my phone and sent a text message saying that I was alive. She replied by saying that I wouldn’t be for long, that she would kill me for skipping. A small smile reached my lips as I read it, only Jasmine can make me smile after something like this.
chapter eightI didn’t feel like getting off the bus and running to class, but I didn’t really have a choice, I had nowhere else to go. With a sigh I waved to the bus driver and walked towards the school, figuring that since I was already late the teacher wouldn’t mind if I was later. On second thought this would affect my scholarship, that caused me to quicken my pace but I still didn’t run. I sneaked into the classroom trying not to be the center of attention by being late. However even if I walked in normally they wouldn’t seem to notice, everyone was in group talking and not working. Silently I walked over to the teacher to tell him about my visit to my mother in the hospitable, the pity caused him to undo my tardy and warn me so that there wasn’t a next time. I maneuvered my way through the unsightly crowded high school classroom to my desk where Jasmine was impatiently waiting for me.
“Are you okay,” she asked the moment I got into hearing range, causing me to nod without a response. I know she hates when I go all quiet on her, but I couldn’t trust my voice. I sat down and leaned back in the chair for support. My mother isn’t my mother, that means that my father isn’t my father, but then who are my parents. That question kept repeating in my mind, almost as if I would forget if I didn’t stop repeating it. However how could I forget something as important as this? I wanted to break down and hug jasmine for support, for a shoulder, for a ear I could share all my fears with. When the bell rang both Jasmine and Nathan appeared at my side as if they were saying that I wasn’t alone. I knew that I wasn’t alone.
“I hate depressing stuff,” I mumbled earning a sweet melodious laugh coming from Nathan. It seemed force, if I knew any better I would think that he hated the thought of me being depressed. But then again why would you want anyone to be depressed whether you like them or not?
“Soccer practice will cheer you up,” Jasmine said then started walking towards the female lockers.
“Bye Nathan,” I whispered looking up at him in the eyes for the first time since I met him. I couldn’t tell whether I liked it or not, the warm tingles I felt in my stomach met the confusing question in my head leaving me completely and utterly lost in life. Jasmine said something to Nathan then waved goodbye, I stalked her into the locker room and got changed. Out on the field I felt like a different person, someone with no worries except the worry of getting the ball into the goal. I like it, no scratch that I love it, the feeling of playing soccer. It’s always a rush once you start playing, and I could admit that I was an addict to soccer, at least it isn’t drugs. The coach gathered us around and told us to run 12 laps for now then we were going to stretch again, after that we were going to go over positions for the next game which I couldn’t wait for. To the side of me I felt Jasmine jumping and I could tell that she was also pumped for the next game.
“I already did what I had to do so I came to practice aren’t you proud of me Jasmine,” I questioned with a smile that I found only on the soccer field. Her smile shifted into a curious one. She wanted to know everything, however if I didn’t know everything how could she?
“When you’re ready,” she stated after reading my helpless quiet cry for help. She knew exactly what to do so she grabbed my arm and dragged me back to the field and kicked the soccer ball to me. I was thankful for her sudden distraction.
chapter nine
We were practicing with our new positions when suddenly it started pouring rain. A smile enlightened Jasmine and I as we got soaked and continued to run towards the now wet and slippery black and white ball. Mud engulfed our shoes and shins making me feel as if we went back in time to when we were younger when everything was games and fun, everything was simple. The thought stopped me in my tracks, the rain that beaded off me led me to shiver, simple; I wish everything was still like that.
“Char, what’s wrong,” Jasmine questioned as she halted besides me, her eyebrows frowned in worry. I gave out a little scuff like laugh, and then leaned my face back to face the droplets of rain.
“Jasmine, if I were going to tell you it would take at least a month to explain, besides I don’t have enough answers to tell you yet,” I explained while scrunching my eyes so that I wouldn’t get any rain in my eyes, just rain pouring down my face. If tears escaped who would know, I wouldn’t even? I already promised myself I wouldn’t cry, this promise I continuously break it. Opening my eyes I corrected myself, stood up straight and looked forward. I’m on the soccer field what am I being all depressed about. Gah, SpongeBob wouldn’t have cried, so I won’t.
“Hey Jasmine and Charlotte, weirdoes over there, we’re going in,” Kota yelled from across the field grasping our attention. I tutted as if I were the old bus driver and dragged Jasmine along with me towards the locker room. Inside we changed and sat in the coaches office going through all her stuff finding all kinds of things like her teaching degree, a picture of her daughter we didn’t know about, and little school supplies which will now be my emergency supply(thanks Coach). Jasmine and I went into the other corner to bombard for stuff that belongs to the coach hoping to find food. Searching through her drawer Jasmine pulled out a paper with slight interest.
“Hey, Jasmine doesn’t that look like your packs coat of arms,” I whispered taking the paper from her hands and covering it from everyone else’s view. Jasmine squinted and shrugged, then did a double take.
“Coach, can we talk to you in private,” she asked using her above inside voice. Although it isn’t a good thing I smile, another distraction. Our team members took it as a hint and shuffled out of the room gossiping among themselves completely obvious that their coach might and I say might, be a werewolf.
Chapter Ten
“What do you girls want,” Coach asked us with a suspicious gleam in her eye, as if she knows we are after something other than guidance on our soccer. Jasmine and I walk in a circle around her as if we were sharks capturing our prey.
“Coach, what’s your packs name,” Jasmine asked in a voice I never heard her us before, it hinted that she was territorial and would do anything to keep from someone hurting her pack. This reminded me what a family should be like, each member taking care and protecting of their family. I smile acknowledging that even if I don’t know who I am in regards to family, I will always have the pack by my side.
“Jasmine, you’re a werewolf,” Coach’s question brought me back to the present situation. Seeing that Jasmine views coach as a threat to the pack I stiffen, ready to defend the only ones who would defend me. Coach, however; didn’t look like she was afraid or vicious to the thought of jasmine being a werewolf. She almost looked as if she were happy to hear it.
“Coach, are you from my pack? You have a paper with our coat of arms, and this may sound weird, but you smell strangely familiar,” Jasmine responded not with a hostile tone as
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