Page 30 of Misfit Monsters
Not my most graceful move ever.
“It shouldn’t be hard to keep track of your feet when you’re that close to the ground,” someone taunts.
I bounce back up to sneers aimed my way—and Hail’s icy stare just before he swivels toward the ball.
Who cares what he thinks? We can still win. “Let’s go, red!”
Gloss’s friend passes the ball to one of our other teammates, but Hail closes in on her, sending out a blast of wind. The chill ripples over me even where I’m hustling behind them.
The woman squeaks and flings the ball toward the nearest red shirt… which happens to be Raze.
My massive roommate grabs the ball, the white sphere tiny in his hands. He launches it at one of the glowing nets.
Which stops glowing a split-second before the ball smacks into it.
Gloss’s friend mutters a curse under her breath and shoulders past me with a purposeful shove. “Maybe you should just stay on the floor.”
“I wouldn’t want to trip anyone,” I point out helpfully.
A low snarl carries from Raze’s direction with a sizzle of jalapeno-hot anger. I suppress a wince. He must be pissed off at my performance too.
The game goes back and forth several more times, withfour more goals for the blue team and only two for ours. They’re up to twenty points, and I’m panting and sweating through my T-shirt. My feet throb with stings of pain that resonate up my calves.
What’s so bad about hunter nets again? I think I’d rather play with those.
I only have to make it through this one game. I can keep giving it my best shot.
Next time I’ll sit on the benches with Fen, who’s belting out my name every time I manage to race to the other end of the court without tripping over my feet.
The smallest member of the blue team snatches the ball. He bounds across the wooden floor with longer strides than his slim frame should be capable of, propelled by his supernatural talents.
I scamper after him, but of course Raze gets there first. He shoves in front of the other player just as the smaller guy springs into the air.
The airy man was already hurling the ball toward one of the nets with a crackle of power. Electricity sizzles all around the white sphere.
A burst of stray sparks smacks into Raze’s forehead.
My roommate staggers sideways with a howl of pain that’s echoed by a surge of searing emotion. A gasp of sympathy jolts from my throat.
The ball bounces off the rim of the net. The guy who threw it—and, strangely, every other player—scrambles backward, away from both the ball and our injured classmate. Even Hail’s nonchalant stance has gone rigid.
Right, because almost all the shadowkind in this school are compassion-challenged.
I hurry to Raze’s side. The immense man clutches his face, shadowy essence leaking from splits in his flesh. He blinks, and just for an instant behind his splayed fingers, Icatch a glimpse of eyes that aren’t the green I saw before but pure, depthless black.
My throat constricts with worry, but I keep my voice soft and bright. “That looks painful, but we can make sure you’re okay. We just need someone with healing powers to?—"
He jerks his head away. “Leave me alone!” With a tremor of the air, he vanishes into the shadows.
My hands drop to my sides. I look around, wondering if Coach Brandish will intervene—either to get my roommate help or chide him for shedding his physical form.
The room is silent. Everyone is staring at me—both the other players and our audience on the bleachers.
They all look vaguely stricken, as if I’ve done something horrifying like puke worms or sprout pus-seeping boils.
I check my arms to confirm there aren’t any seeping boils that I didn’t notice, and Coach Brandish finally barges into the middle of the court. “All right, it’s almost time for the bell. Let’s call the game now. Zing, I’m docking two points for that foul.”
My gaze slides back to the spot where Raze disappeared. I can’t sense him nearby anymore.
