#grant001

She looks a fright, and she knows it: the last vestiges of her Halloween dye still clinging to her hair, faded from a bright red to more of an unsightly reddish-orange tinge; the bruising surrounding the cut on her cheek from the Hornets game just last week mottled into a series of sickly colors. Looking at her, she’s sure no one would be surprised to know that she has two yellow cards in the past two games. 

It could be the beginning of a bad reputation, but she doesn’t think she cares. She thinks she’s proud of it: her grit is what got her noticed, she only feels like she’s doing anything on the court if she’s riding right on that edge between controlled and out of control. She hasn’t tipped over it yet: no red cards, no penalty shots. If anything, she feels like she’s settling in. Finding her place. Playing her game. 

Right now, though, she mostly feels drunk. Loose with it, a red plastic cup held in her hand and some soda-and-something concoction in it, made from whatever impromptu supplies the team had mustered up after the win that Glory had no part in procuring. 

When she sees Grant, though, she tries hard to hide it: straightens up from her listing slump against the wall, tries to open her eyes wide instead of letting them be hazy and hooded. It’s a party, she doesn’t think he expects her to not take part when everyone around them is, but she doesn’t know him very well yet. She’s still a freshman. Still wants to impress him, wants him to know that she’s serious. When she speaks, she picks her words carefully, tries to keep them from slurring together any more than they usually do, with her accent. She doesn’t think she’s very successful. “Three in a row! Does it always feel like this?”

@grantwxsley

Not swinging -- just sort of hanging onto them, rolling backwards so her hair was dragging in the dirt and blood rushing to her head. She was giddy with the dizziness, giggling to herself and her dirtied feet. Till she opened her eyes to see someone else in park. Day pushed herself up right and pushing her long dress down (even though it was still covering everything). She blinks, embarrassed. Till the blood starts rushing down and she smiles instead, “Good evenin’.”

@grantwxsley