Gracie | Cory Wilson

Chapter 1.1.2

It's confirmed.

Jordan Wilson is a twat bag.

During first break, he decided to hang up a bedsheet. Yeah, that doesn't sound bad, but he had written racist comments on it in permanent marker. It was - by far - the shittiest thing that I'd seen happen so far.

"Hey, Missy?" I asked. I was sat with her and her friend Nas on a bench outside. She hummed in response. "Does this school have a football team?"

"Yeah, just the one. No girls wanted to play it," She told me and my heart fell slightly.

"But I'm sure you can try out with the lads," Nas added quickly, "it's not labelled as a boy's team, and tryouts are in a few minutes."

"Oh, good thing I always come prepared then." I held out my bag that had my kit and boots in. "Where do I go?"

"Down the corridor, and it's the third door on your left." Nas smiled politely.

"Yeah, and when you're done, you can head to the courtyard through reception," Missy added, probably feeling a bit left out of the conversation.

"Okay, see you later," I said, standing up and beginning to walk out. 

"Bye, Gee!" Missy called over the heads of everyone, I smiled and waved smally.

It wasn't long before I was changed and ready to go. At first, I thought it'd be embarrassing walking through the office, but I caught a glimpse of Mr Bell and continued to walk through.

As soon as I opened the door, I realised he wasn't alone.

"Erm," He spoke to a large man who was gripping Jordan's clothes. "This your dad, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm his dad" The large man answered for his son, letting him go. "Jordan, come on."

"Mr Wilson," Mr Bell interrupted. "I've got five minutes if you want to talk about anything."

"What's there to talk about?" I silently rolled my eyes. "I'll deal with him. I've had to ask twice now. Come on, Jordan!"

Jordan followed his dad out sheepishly. I couldn't blame him for being such a twat with a dad like that. Doesn't seem like the most excellent person to live with.

When Jordan left, I cleared my throat to grab Mr Bell's attention. He turned around to look at me.

"Can I try out for the football team?" I asked him kindly.

"What? Of course," He shook his head as if it were the most obvious answer.

A door swung open behind him, and I gestured to the man who was standing in the doorway with a bag of footballs.

"Coming?" questioned the young, strawberry-blonde teacher.

"Yeah," Mr Bell replied grumpily, gesturing for my follow. "Yeah, we're coming."

The younger teacher kept throwing questioning glances my way, which I tried my hardest to ignore, despite my irritation.

"Are girls allowed on the team?" He whispered to Mr Bell with another glance my way.

"No rule to say there's not. It's not the 'boys football team', it's the football team."

This shut up the other man as we stepped out onto the courtyard. A huddle of boys stood under the basketball hoop at the other end of the court, presumably arguing. 

"Lads!" Mr Bell shouted, halting their argument and forcing them all to face this way. And, just my luck, Cory looked right at me. I rolled my eyes. "Lads, lads, lads."