30th of May, ABC

Armvale Bowling Club. ABC for short.

My place of residence from approximately 1:23pm to 2:45pm every Monday afternoon.

Dead orange turf that was once neon green at the ABC's time of opening. Benches and scoreboards that are lined up on a two metre wide section of concrete. Stepping off from that concrete there is a gutter. Up from the gutter there are eight 30 metre long 'rinks' on a pitch, each rink about three metres wide. Any visible guidelines of where these rinks lie have been eroded from time. Aim of the game, get your one kilo ball or 'bowl' (correct terminology) as close to the smaller target ball as possible.

Abe, our instructor. 71 years old, crippling hunchback, is not afraid to hold the girls' waists when assisting their bowling performance. A lawn bowls player from "the good old days" that without fail, wears the same blue windbreaker

Miss Haines, our assigned teacher. Leads us from school to the lawn bowls pitch with enthusiasm, most likely looking forward to seeing Abe in all of his sexy senior citizen glory. She manages to ignore Abe's 'hands on' approach to teaching teenagers the joys of lawn bowls, and probably wishes those hands were on her wrinkled waist.

Mrs Dane, aka Mrs Dog, aka Mrs Female Dog, aka Mrs Bitch. The cold blooded sadist that decided 2 hours of mandatory physical education was crucial for the student body of Armvale highschool's mental well-being. The sole reason that every Monday I am dragged out of the comfort of classrooms at Armvale Highschool for some mandated exercise at the local bowling club. Mrs Bitch was the one to forced me, along with 22 other students, to brave the terror that is compulsory lawn bowls and Abe.

Me. A prisoner of said mandatory exercise, currently sitting on a rotted wood bench shivering in 18 degree late May temperature, contemplating how Alice managed to convince me to participate in lawn bowls.

Alice Cullen. My best friend and demon seated next to me on said bench, that manipulated me into choosing lawn bowls over the other, probably just as dreadful, sport options. I've known her since the fateful day in year seven where I overheard her talking to someone about how foot fetishes needed to be normalised in society. It was at that moment I decided she needed to be my friend.

"Bella, it's your turn" Alice shrieks into my ear, making me jump in my seat and pulling me out of my existential crisis. So abruptly, it had become my turn in the game.

I approach the lawn and pick up one of my bowls, adjusting it in my right hand so that the smaller circle faces inwards. I take my stance slightly behind the mat, bend forward into my left foot and cast an underarm throw of my bowl onto the turf. It steers to the right like I intended and then begins to curve towards the small white target ball or 'jack' according to Abe's terminology. It then surpases the jack and steadily rolls into the cigarette butt-filled gutter at the other end of the pitch.

They don't call me the greatest lawn bowls player of all time for nothing. I can already hear Alice's ridiculing laugh from behind me.

As I turn back to sit on my dilapidated bench and wallow in my shame, I catch a pair of green eyes following me. Edward Masen.

Edward is new to Armvale Highschool, he's only been here for three weeks or so. He was shoved into lawn bowls last minute due to it being the only sport with any available places left (I can't imagine why!). Legend says he was expelled from a private school up north for lighting a bin on fire. What a gangster.

By default, Edward's been partnered up with Eric, a dungeons and dragons obsessed social outcast that I'm pretty sure owns a fursuit. I don't judge. The dynamic duo has then been assigned to play against us for the rest of the term.

Girls have already been lusting over his tousled and "effortlessly sexy" bronze hair, piercing green "orbs" and his long gangly body. I haven't been able to catch a good inspection of him yet, considering there is very little time my eyes aren't fixated on the floor.

But jesus. Those girls were right.

He sits on the aforementioned bench making direct eye contact with me. He wears a black hoodie over the top of his school sport uniform, an earbud dangling in his left ear. His hair is tousled and effortlessly sexy like my peer group would say. But what captivates me the most is those luminous green eyes glaring directly into my shit-brown ones. For that split second we make eye contact, my knees weaken and my cognitive function ceases to exist.

His gaze changes to something behind me, most likely Eric pegging his bowl at a tree. I take my place next to Alice who is absentmindedly playing with a lock of her hair and recollect myself.

I think I have just found my will to live through Monday mandated sport in Edward Masen.


notes: constructive criticism! go go go!

For context, the majority of this story will take place at at lawn bowls club. Lawn bowls is a game played in australia similar to bocce ball (i think?). It's players are primarily senior citizens as it's really fucking slow and insufferable. I tried my best to describe the game/setting but I do incourage any non-australians that have no idea what the fuck lawn bowls is to have a quick google. Also, Armvale is not a real place, just loosely based off a common australian suburb.

thanks for reading :heart: