Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Volleyball Terms are listed at the end.
Enjoy :)
Characters depicted in story are based off Actor/Actress portrayals in movie.
FALL 2012
Sophomore year
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Christina Candor could still remember the day that Eric Matthews became a factor in her young life.
She was snoozing off in her honors chemistry class when her gaze swayed over to the windows and happened to slip over a brooding figure. She narrowed her eyes in curiosity at the boy as he leaned against the hard brick of the building nonchalantly, one foot propped up behind him and a barely lit cigarette between his fingers. Her eyebrows rose at the discovery.
Bold.
Their private school held little room for rule-breaking and shenanigans, especially from upperclassmen. And his crimson red blazer – an item only privy to seniors -was a dead giveaway he was exactly that. The corner of her lips twitched into a smirk as for the first time since arriving at this school two weeks ago, honors chemistry became interesting.
Christina watched him - studied him really for the rest of the class period, off and on. She observed as he took slow even drawls from the small cancer stick in his too big of a grasp. She noted the stark contrast of his silver blonde hair against the dark rust color of the brick wall behind him. She examined the pure euphoria roll through his features, pale eyelashes fluttering shut, as he pushed a long stream of smoke through pursed pink lips-
"Miss Candor!"
"W-Wha?" She muttered in a daze, ripping her gaze away from the outside and coming back into the reality of periodic tables and compounding elements.
Professor Roswell, an elder yet sharp little thing stood before her desk patiently, arms akimbo. She looked to be waiting for something. A response maybe...?
Wait, there was a question?!
Shit.
"Your answer?"
Christina wouldn't have had anything even if she had been paying attention.
"I've got nothing," she admitted shamelessly.
Lying, especially to please the masses, had never been her thing and she wasn't going to start now.
"Keep your eyes forward, Miss Candor," The old woman admonished, hobbling her way back to the front of the classroom. "And do try to keep your eyes off the senior man candy, if you can dear,"
It was rare in social situations that Christina Candor felt anything remotely close to embarrassment. But as several inquiring glances flew out the window to see exactly who the man candy was then whirl right back around to land on her, she could totally relate to the phrase I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole
"What are you looking at?"
Tris, her best friend of three years asked. Her lengthy blonde locks blew lightly around her face in the breeziness of the cool fall morning. The school doors weren't due to open for another 15 minutes, so the two of them along with other early bird students were forced to wait outside.
Christina watched a small group of senior boys animatedly shooting the shit in the student parking lot not too far away. Her almond gaze zeroed in on the striking blonde standing just outside the edges of the circle. He was close enough to be considered "involved" in the discussion, but his subtle distance and unconcerned disposition spoke volumes of how much he really cared if he was or wasn't. For whatever reason his "too cool for school" pretense made her smile.
"Tina?" Tris tried again.
Warmth flooded her cheeks as Christina bit back an irritated groan at the fact she was once again ogling at a complete stranger like some overly hormonal teenager.
You ARE an overly hormonal teenager she reminded herself.
"I don't know..,"
The bell rang and the two girls slung their backpacks over their shoulders as they began to head inside.
"But I'm sure as hell gonna find out,"
The first time she met him, it was hilarious.
Well, at least that's what she likes to tell herself. It helps her feel a lot cooler than what she's realizes too late, she actually isn't.
It's the first day of volleyball tryouts, a date that both Christina and Tris have been itching for since the moment they enrolled. They had always gone to separate schools, but had managed to play for the same area volleyball club since they were twelve. It didn't take long for their friendship to form and for their better–than–average skills to get noticed.
The two of them made quite the pair: A slender 5'9 outside who could jump out of the gym and a scrappy 5'2 libero who hadn't had a ball drop uncontested in front of her two seasons. So with high hopes to play at the collegiate level they decided to transfer together to the best high school volleyball program in the state – Dauntless Preparatory Sports Academy: a private school designed for the future scholastic athlete.
Both girls are in the locker room gearing up for day one of try-outs when Christina hisses a swear underneath her breath, then while digging through her bag viciously, makes a sailor sound like a nun.
Tris's head whips around so fast her ponytail flies into her face. "What the hell, Tina?"
"Dammit!" she cries again throwing her ransacked gym bag on the floor. "I forgot my fucking knee pads. What libero in their right mind forgets their goddamn kneepads?!"
Tris sighs in relief knowing the easy fix for her problem. "Relax, I've got an extra pair in my locker you can borrow," The words are barely out of her mouth before Christina is out the door and on her way to the sophomore wing of the building.
She sprints the whole way there, knowing she has about 10 minutes at best to grab the pads and go if she wants to make it 15 minutes early, a must in serious–athlete etiquette. Her hands fumble with the dial of the locker and her swearing starts back up with a vengeance as it takes three tries to successfully open the damned thing. She's so distracted by her 'mission' she doesn't notice the heavy footfalls, loud conversation, and distinct hollow "bong, bong" of a volleyball hitting tile until it's directly behind her.
She peeks over her shoulder to see several tall and lean males stroll by: some with gym bags over their shoulder, a few setting a volleyball back and forth, ALL of them sporting red dri–fit tees with the phrase DAUNTLESS PREP in bold white font across their backs.
Christina's face twists in confusion. Not that she's at all bothered to see the famous four–time state champions Dauntless Prep Men's Volleyball Team (they were easy on the eyes) but she's surprised simply because they're off season. And off season sports only practice before school.
However she shrugs it off as none of her business, reminding herself her own practice starts in...now less than 7 minutes, and whirls around only to run smack dab into someone's hard chest.
How cliché' are you Christina, really... she chastises internally.
It's times like this, as she's nose deep in muscles, cotton, and old spice, that her tiny frame of 5'2 doesn't bother her so much. Hell if she weren't on her way to probably the most important tryout of her 16 year old life thus far, she'd definitely lean in and stay a while, kneepads be damned!
Strong hands firmly grip her shoulders to steady her. 'Muscles' says something low and deep and she feels it rumble through his pecs. As she pulls back enough to look up to the man and apologize (for both running into him unexpectedly and snuggling into him unabashedly) she's met with cloudy jade green eyes and realizes how screwed she actually is.
It's Mr Brooding Blonde Bombshell himself.
Criminy.
She yelps as she wriggles back away from him, one of her kneepads falling to the floor.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" she goes to run a hand through her wild brown locks, then remembers she pulled it back for practice and pulls on a loose hair at the base of her neck. He regards her with the same cool expression he always wears as he nods his head in silent reply.
For the first time she notices the few piercings on his face and the small gages in his ears. They stand out enough to make him seem edgy, yet aren't nearly outlandish enough to truly make him hardcore. She likes it.
His eyes fall onto the lone knee pad laying on the ground between them.
"Trying out?" Even though it's supposed to be a question, it's sounds like more of a statement coming from him. And his tone is anything but interested. He's too cool to be.
That's ok. She can keep it cool. She invented cool.
Her right hand falls to her hip and she gently pulls at the brim of her black spandex with her thumb.
"Yeah," Perfect. Short and sweet.
And mysterious.
She makes sure the look on her face is just as disengaged as his.
Very mysterious.
He hums his response, stuffs his hands into his front pockets, and gives another small nod of his head. "First year?"
"Here yes. Ever no,"
"Where'd you go?"
His instant response throws her off her a moment before she quickly regroups and responds. "Candor Prep,"
That garners a reaction out of him. It's barely noticeable, but his eyebrows raise in appreciation and honest interest flickers in his eyes as her previous Alma Mater solidifies how worthy of his time and energy she really is.
Then, in a flash, the minor interest in his gaze dials up by one thousand and the sudden heat she feels from his assessing glare as he drags his eyes up and down her frame almost singes her skin. Suddenly she wishes she wore something more interesting then last year's spandex and her "Digged You Again," Lion King shirt she found at Club Nationals in Florida.
"Libero?" he asks an octave or two lower, the tone of his voice something else entirely from before.
"Y-Yes...," she responds, damning herself for the slight waiver in her tone.
So much for playing it cool.
"Mmhmm," he hums, more to himself than anything as his eyes linger on her toned fallow legs. Then jade meets almond once again and just as fast as it switched on, it's off again, and he's back to his good ole' cold uncaring demeanor. "Good luck," he mutters, then continues down the hallway.
Christina doesn't realize she's been holding her breath the entire time until he wraps around the corner and all the air whooshes out of her so hard her lungs burn.
She ends up having the best tryout of her life.
There's not a ball that's hit in her direction that she doesn't dig up with ease and if it's not hit near her, she's sprinting to get a playable touch on it anyway. Whatever she can't get to by staying on her feet she's diving towards in a race to meet the ball before it's introduced to the hardwood floors. She's underneath everything so fast it's a miracle the court isn't sparkling clean from her t shirt alone.
During serve receive, her passes are controlled and almost inhuman in their accuracy as ball after ball after ball perfectly lands in the hands of the setter before shooting off into the awaiting hitter's swing.
Tris, an outside, can't thanks the stars enough. Her bestie's money passes in turn makes her look like a super star as she swings through 15 clean sets with no tape and no errors. She doesn't have a clue what put Tina on her A++ game, but she sure as hell hopes she plans on using it for the rest of the season.
They're on their first 5 minute water break when she approaches her, two Gatorades in hand, both of them panting slightly as they try to catch their breath again.
"Tina," she says handing her a blue one.
"Tris," she responds, taking the red one out of her other hand instead. The blonde purses her lips in annoyance. She knew red was her favorite.
"You wanna tell me what you put in your Wheaties this morning?"
Christina grins wryly and hunches over to place her hands on her knees.
"I'm serious T, you are on fire!" Tris continues. "Not to say that you're normally not but...geezus. You're making me look better than what I am with all these 3 passes to slot. That setter couldn't set a bad ball if she tried,"
The libero lets out a tired chuckle, as she raises up again to rest her hands on her hip and take another deep gulp of her gatorade. "I don't know," she huffs out when she's finished, her eyes flickering over to the second story corner bleachers behind Tris' head.
"I guess I'm just feeling myself today,"
The whistle blows, signaling the end of their too short water break, and the girls toss their gatorade to the side before jogging back over to the courts.
Quietly, a group of four tall boys stand up to shuffle out of the gym. A shocking blonde in a golden Dauntless Prep cut off stands at the edge of the bleachers for a bit, his leafy green eyes vibrating in fascination at the lively little libero, before swinging his duffel over his shoulder and following after his teammates out the door.
A week later, Christina's at her locker putting her books away for the day when a slim figure in red athletic wears leans up against the wall beside her.
"Hi," he says with a wide smile.
Christina briefly looks at the male before returning her attention to her task at hand.
"Hi," she stands on tiptoe to grab her volleyball shoes from the top shelf. "Can I help you?"
His expression falters for a moment before he presses on with an even bigger grin. "You're Christina Candor, right? The transfer from...well, Candor Prep?"
"The one and only," she responds casually as she does a final inventory of all the items she'll need for practice. After she zips the bags and slams her locker shut, she finally looks up to give the boy her full attention. "And it's Tina,"
She holds out her hand with a welcoming beam and he shakes it graciously. "I'm Will. Will Forrester,"
He's a lean, tallish boy with swept over brown hair and warm hazel eyes. There's something in his demeanor that's inherently good about him and Christina can't help but feel the need to smile in his presence.
"Nice to meet you, Will Forrester,"
"Likewise,"
"What can I do for you?"
Like a gentlemen, he extends his hand in front of them in an "after you" gesture.
"For now you can let me walk you to your next class?"
Christina bites back a grin as she nods her approval and the two walk side by side to her honors english class. He kindly adjusts his long legged strides to match her shorter paced ones.
"So I hear you're looking to put our janitorial staff out of a job," Will begins.
She barks out a laugh. "Is that so? Whatever do you mean by that?"
"Well, the floors in our gym are so damn clean from this volleyball player that apparently doesn't know what it means to let a ball drop,"
"That's because it doesn't happen," Christina replies, side–eyeing her escort. "Not when it's on my side of the net anyway,"
Will scoffs at her nerve, observing her proud expression. "Someone sounds a little cocky,"
"Not cocky...," she corrects with a finger in the air, like a mother to her child. "Confident,"
He chuckles at her patronizing tone. "I guess you have to be to leave a school that you share a last name with," Christina's eyes narrow the bit of information he should have no idea about, but she gives him a tiny smirk in response anyway. He pushes on undeterred. "I mean...I don't know anything about you–,"
"That you don't." Christina reminds with a light yet meaningful glare.
To Will's credit he gives her a sheepish grin before pressing forward with his little inquisition. "But, I'm thinking things couldn't have been going too bad if Mom or Pop were playing Headmaster there,"
"Well then, you would be correct,"
The brunette blinks in confusion, surprised to arrive at his answer so easily. She a few steps ahead of him when he says "...So, if you don't mind me asking...,"
"Which I do, but somehow I feel you're going to ask anyways...,"
"What brings you here to Dauntless Prep?"
"What brings you here to give me the run down?" she queries back, from over her shoulder. There's no anger or malice in her tone, just genuine interest if anything. "Or better yet, who?"
Will briefly stumbles in his tracks at the realization of being caught.
Christina draws to a stop as they reach the doorway of their destination and turns to regard her overly curious hallway guide. "Look, Will. I'm here for one reason and one reason only: to play volleyball. I'm sure you can respect that,"
Her choppy brown bob acutely frames her heart–shaped face, her sharp almond eyes stare unwaveringly into his, and her smooth sand colored skin glows in self assurance. Will gulps as for the first time since their conversation started he really takes the time to look at her: to admire her. She's fierce. And snarky. And strong. And gritty. And...
She's...something worth anyone's time, that's for sure.
He gets it now. Why he'd been "asked" into coming to "welcome to the new girl".
He doesn't realize he's been staring until she releases a soft laugh and pats him hard on the shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts. "As much as I love being glared at in awkward silence...the bell's gonna ring in about 30 seconds, dude,"
Anxious teenagers push their way by the two of them as they rush into class with the little bit of time they have left to spare. Will tries and fails to laugh off the fact that he was eyeballing her like a fat kid eyeballs german chocolate cake not 5 seconds ago.
"Well uh...I guess I'll see you around then, libero?" he asks backing away towards his own class.
Christina leans against the inside of the doorframe and crosses her arms.
"That depends on you, Outside," she says with a coy smile. "I'm here to play volleyball. Not to play with balls. Especially with reigning champion big–man–on–campus cocky volleyball players'...balls," she's quick raise her small hand in the air and adds "Not that I'm judging, I just don't need the distraction,"
Will's hazel eyes widen at her brash reply as the bell rings and she turns on heel to head inside her classroom.
"Have a good one, Will. It really was nice to meet you,"
And with that, she draws the door shut behind her.
It was official.
She hated honors chemistry.
Hated it.
Professor Roswell could burn in hell for all she cared, the old bat.
So what if this was her second time falling asleep in her class? Maybe she should step her lesson plan game up and teach something with some type of emotion for once! She was a modern day scholar athlete, and good one at that! She had a damn busy schedule of never ending homework, reviewing college film, extracurricular club meetings, and volunteer job after volunteer job after VOLUNTEER JOB.
Siiiigh
Not that she minded. She chose this lifestyle willingly and she understood the consequences it sometimes resulted in, but there were only so many hours in the day. And as much as she loved everything that she did - it exhausted the ever living shit out of her.
Why was she being penalized for a little afternoon doze of less than 5 minutes? Geez, if she was gonna get written up for it the witch could have at least given her 15 minutes.
She bursted through the doors of the office with a fervor, sienna brown bob swishing around her face, plaid pleated skirt flitting frantically, as she made determined strides to the front desk and slammed a form down in front of the secretary.
The middle aged woman with glasses didn't pause in her typing, her attention never leaving her work. "Can I help you?" she drawled in a bored tone.
Christina held up the referral with a sickly sweet smile. "Courtesy of Professor Roswell,"
The secretary chuckled at her black humor then nodded towards the corner behind her. "Have a seat next to Rocky over there, honey,"
Rolling her eyes, she swept the paper up into her grasp and whirled around to see her new tail.
She blinked. "You again,"
He smirked. "Me again,"
Christina's gaze went heavenward. "Lord Almighty...,"
She did not have the patience to be all nervous, fidgety, and hormonal right now!
"Rocky" aka Mr. Blonde, Hot, and Moody shifted in his seat, as he briefly pulled the ice pack off his cheek to examine it for leakage.
"No need to get all religious on me, I'm just a regular everyday person like you,"
The libero's cheeks instantly flushed in embarrassment as she dropped her vision to her black mary janes. "Hardy har har," she grumbled as she took the seat adjacent to his.
There was silence for the first few moments in the office. Christina was actively trying to place her attention anywhere but on the bombshell who had been haunting her daydreams for the past few weeks. Said bombshell was focusing on what she assumed was his facebook timeline from the way he drolly scrolled through his cell.
Then, he surprised the both of them by promptly setting his phone down and striking up a conversation with her.
"So...what's your entry fee?" he asked, placing the ice back on his cheek.
"My entry fee?"
"Yeah. Your golden ticket?"
Christina only gave him a blank expression.
The blonde sighed before rolling his eyes and snatching his phone back up to text away. "What did you do to send you down here?"
"Oh! I uh...I feel asleep in class,"
"Mmm,"
"Yeah...been a long couple of days," Christina heaved a deep sigh and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "And it wasn't exactly my favorite subject either,"
"Ah."
"Yeah...how about you?"
"Oh you know...just gotta into a bit of disagreement with my...best buddy,"
Tina puffed out a laugh. "Best buddy, huh?"
"The bestest," her new friend responded with an empty grin. "It's nothing new, we've been down here more times than I can count,"
"How have you not been suspended?"
His empty grin transformed into an amused yet sinful smirk. "I've got quite the connection up top,"
Christina felt it best not to touch anymore on the subject.
"Which teacher sent you to the office?" he asked leaning his face into his hand.
"Professor Roswell. Honors Chem,"
"Huh," Blondie responded. "Fancy that,"
"Fancy what?"
"Well technically...," he began, swiping away on his android again. "we're classmates,"
"We are?"
"We are," he echoed, his lips curling into a cocky grin. "Though I haven't been...physically present there in quite some time,"
"So I've noticed,"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I've been busy,"
Tina scoffed at that. "Busy smoking cigs in the back courtyard of the school,"
Dammit.
There she went again, saying whatever the hell it was that popped up at the tip of her tongue.
She winced the moment the words finished flying out of her mouth.
No filter for the win, Tina.
Instead of a well earned snap of needing to mind her own business, Christina was greeted with a low, rusty chuckle that instantly set her nerves on edge.
"...You see me?" His question was hidden behind flexing fingers as he scratched the barely there stubble on the side of his face, but she heard it clear as day. Vibrant sage eyes slid over to watch her, the barest hint of mischief and amusement residing within them as he waited for her reply. To most he'd seemed to be barely giving her the time of day, but she could see for once, as he leaned towards her and his eyes glowed in anticipation for what happened next, that all of his attention was on her.
Tina grabbed onto her nerve before it could flounder away and looked him straight in the eye, a small smile pulling at the edges of her full lips. "Yeah. I see you," she replied in a low whisper.
The door to the principal's private office nearly flew off the hinges as the third entirely too tall boy Christina had seen today came storming out; his swollen jaw set in anger and his deep brown eyes savage. He looked beyond pissed. So pissed that his naturally tan skin seemed to be glowing red with fury.
As he hurriedly strode out of the principal's room he turned to glare at the blonde to Christina's left and she gulped for him. Clearly this had been his "best buddy" he'd mentioned earlier.
"You're up, you albino arrogant shit,"
The blonde gave him an easy smile and a finger wave. "Nice seeing you too, honey,"
"Bite me," he spat out through gritted teeth as he snatched up his excuse to return to class and whooshed out the door.
Before Christina could even comment on the "warm plesantries" just exchanged before her, a deep frustrated voice boomed from the principal's office meaning business. "MATTHEWS! Get your crafty ass in here now,"
"That's my cue," Mr. Matthews rose to his feet and leaned into a stretch before slowly making his way to the hot seat. "See you in chem, libero. Looks like I might have a new reason to make a return,"
The next day, Eric Matthews was introduced to her honors English class with a formal excuse via the school board apologizing for the error of giving him an accidental free period. His eyes never left Christina's as he walked down the aisle way, gave her a nod, and plopped into the empty seat directly behind her.
It looked like it was going to a long semester.
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Volleyball Terms:
Pass/Bump: A ball played with a players forearms pushed together in the game of volleyball.
Set: A ball taken with a players hands, usually used to help set up a swing attack for front row hitters.
Hit/Kill: An attack that involves a player jumping and swinging across to net to land untouched on the other side of the net.
Slot: (Ideally) Where the setter stands, waiting for the ball.
Outside: Front Row Player that plays offense and defense around the court. Usually will hit the ball. Usually get the worst sets.
Setter:Volleyball Player that is designated to play the second ball and send it to her front row players (outside, middle, right) to hit and score.
Libero: Designated Leading/best passer on a team. Cannot play front row and does nothing but plays backrow defense. Wears a different colored jersey for substitution reasons. Is usually very short to make easier to get underneath the ball.
3 pass: A perfect pass to setter, it means the setter can now set all 3 of her hitting options (outside/middle/right) in the front row.
spandex: skin tight shorts that are normal uniform regulation in volleyball.
club ball: a club, whos season is opposite of school season, who takes kid and mostly prepares them to play and get recruited at the next level (college)
tape: the top of the volleyball net
serve receive: When the backrow three passers prepare to pass the serve.
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