"W-A-R-R-I-O-R-S, we are Warriors! We fight our opponents and take them down in one sweeping motion!" The crowd cheers along with the cheerleaders' lame attempt at a chant.

        It is currently 7:30 on a Friday night and the football game is in full swing. The stadium is packed with people from all walks of life who enjoy watching a bunch of high school players tackle each other to the ground. Football has never made much sense to me, even with my brother playing professionally, and I have no intention of ever trying to figure the sport out. The only reason I am wasting my Friday night is because I was practically dragged out of my house by my best friend.

       "Go Warriors!" Ansel shouts loudly beside me. He turns his shining bright eyes to me and a beaming smile on his face. "I told you we have the best team in the state, Stormy. Aren't you glad you get to see greatness firsthand?"

      Pfft, greatness? I would call it bribery on the head coach's part and a guarantee that the high school named after the superintendent would win every game. The last time Val Dez High had authentic wins was back in 2015 when my brother and Dominic Valdez played. Dominic was openly jealous of Callum- Dominic is the son of the superintendent and the principal- but would play the part of supportive teammate on the field. Ever since they had graduated, the football team has gone downhill.

     "How come you didn't drag Spencer and Reggie to the game?" I ask both out of curiosity and to move the subject away from me.

      "Spencer is an Aussie at heart and Reggie threatened to lock me in the school's dumpster. I cannot go back to that dumpster again, Stormy." Ansel's eyes go round to emphasize just how terrified he is of Reggie's threat.

      Just thinking about having to rescue Ansel out of the dumpster sends a shiver down my spine. I was smelling rotten tuna fish sandwiches for weeks afterwards, and Ansel was forbidden from stepping onto campus for two full weeks. Reggie had gotten away with the crime since Ansel was too scared to snitch, and Reggie erased any evidence from the security cameras.

       "Reggie wouldn't risk putting you back in the dumpster, Ansel." I give him a reassuring look, but, by the skeptical look on his face, I can tell he isn't buying my words. "He would have to go through me before he gets to you."

       Ansel snorts in response and turns his attention back to the game. I begrudgingly follow suit and take notice that we had managed to score a touchdown during our brief interaction. Val Dez High is officially in the lead by a singular touchdown and field goal.

        The second quarter is officially starting to come to an end and I breathe out a sigh of relief that halftime is right at my doorstep. I could have left during the first quarter by excusing myself to the bathroom, but I also would have had a hard time escaping from Ansel. It would be far more believable and excusable to be swept off into the halftime crowd.

      Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one... ERRP!

     The buzzer blares to signal the end of the second quarter and both teams hustle off of the field back into their respective locker room.

     As if they had all been trained, everyone around us start to stand up and make their way down the bleacher steps. The Holt Miners Band marches out onto the field and I take that as my cue to get out of there. Most of the people who made their way down the bleachers have dissipated and Ansel will be too distracted by the band's performance to keep track of how long I'm gone for.

     Taking a quick glance over in Ansel's direction to make sure his attention is fully on the band below, I start to get up and shove my phone into my back pocket. As I turn to head towards the aisle, I feel a warm hand firmly wrap around my wrist. I should have waited for the band to get two songs into their performance before making the decision to abandon Ansel.

     Trying my best not to let my disappointment show, I turn my head to look Ansel directly in the eyes. His dark brown eyes look calm and not suspicious of my motives.

     "Can you please bring me back a lemonade from concessions?" Ansel releases his grip from my wrist and reaches into his pocket to fish out his wallet. He pulls out a five dollar bill and holds it out for me to take.

     My eyes flicker down to the money in his hand and back up to his face. If I take the money from his hand, I will be forced to follow through with bringing him a lemonade. If I bring Ansel his lemonade back, I will have missed my opportunity to ditch. Why does life have to be so full of choices in which I lose?

      "Yeah, sure," I take his five dollar bill and quickly turn on my heel to walk away before he asks for something else.

       As I make my way down the echoey metallic bleacher steps, I start to mentally kick myself for making Ansel believe I am coming back with his lemonade. Reggie is the one that lets Ansel down and is openly mean to Ansel; I have always made sure to keep my promises to Ansel and stood up to Reggie when necessary.

       Maybe I should just stick around, even though I have no desire to be here. I think to myself while taking the last step off the bleachers. Yeah, I should just stick around. Who knows, maybe Bridget Valdez will make some dramatic entrance onto the field during our band's performance.

Bridget Valdez is the very definition of a drama queen. Unlike our older brothers, we used to be friends. We were such good friends that her mother and my dad had dated for a whole year before Kaylee popped up. Bridget and I's issues had started in middle school due to differing views on what our friendship circle should look like. I wanted to be the lone wolf; she wanted to be the "Queen of Val Dez Middle School."

However, this is not where the problem fell. Bridget could not have cared less about me being a lone wolf. Our problems had started in eighth grade when I had met Reggie and Ansel in the girl's restroom. The story of how and why they were in the girl's restroom is a bit of a long one, but, let's just say, Bridget was not happy to learn I was now associated with "the Devil's Minion and the Oversized Dork." (Her words not mine.)

Since then, Bridget has made it her mission to make my life miserable. She has done an awful job at her mission, but I will give her some credit for her effort.

The smell of salty and buttery stadium popcorn causes my stomach to let out a grumble. People are scattered all around underneath the bleachers. The line for concessions is long but not nearly as long as the line for the ladies' restroom. For being Henry Valdez's baby that receives the most funding, one would think he could have at least invested in another set of restrooms.

Stomach grumbling, I take my place in line and pull my phone out. Messages from Reggie and Spencer flash across my screen; both of them asking about my current location. I send my location to Spencer, in the hopes that he will take it as an invitation, and opt to leave Reggie on delivered.

       To my surprise, the concession line is moving at a decent pace. I order Ansel's lemonade and a popcorn for the two of us to share in a record breaking four minutes.

      Unfortunately for me, I was not gone long enough to miss our band's halftime performance. They are currently playing "White Flag" by Bishop Briggs with the Warriors varsity dance team performing professional level choreography. Even their determined facial expressions match the energy of the song's beat.

      I look up towards the middle top row where I had left Ansel and spot him dancing along with the dance team. Without thinking, my eyes travel up to the spectator booth at the top of the bleachers. Bridget Valdez is watching the varsity dancers below with disdain on her face while her boyfriend and my stepsister stand on either side.

       If Bridget really wanted to, she could wander down onto the field and join in on the performance. Aside from trying to make my life miserable, Bridget's favorite pastime is to critique our varsity dance team on their lack of creativity.

       I don't know how she manages to balance a relationship, critiquing the dance team, attempting to make my life miserable, ruling the school, and still finding the time to do the normal activities. But then, Ocean Carpenter is just Bridget's accessory; a status symbol, if you will. He is foreign, tall, attractive, and smart. Any girl would be lucky to have him as her boyfriend.

      Ocean Carpenter is not my type, though. I prefer a guy who is not at the center of every girls' attention; the type of guy who is last pick for a date. Someone like...

Large hands cover my eyes and the faint smell of musk fills my nose. I can feel his warm breath fanning the right side of my neck.

"Guess who," his deep voice rumbles lowly in my ear.

He is lucky I have not ascended the bleacher steps yet. If he had pulled this stunt on my journey up, we would have some serious problems.

"Someone who is about to never go on another date with me again?" I playfully ask.

Chuckling at my question, he removes his hands from my eyes and takes the popcorn from my hand. With his freehand, Spencer grabs my right hand and leads the two of us up the bleacher steps. Behind us, the band starts to play "Blow" by Kesha which causes cheering and fist pumps to erupt in the student section on the far right side of the bleachers.

     Ansel had tried to lead us there when we had first arrived, but I had made it clear that we were not sitting anywhere near the rest of the student body. Bridget Valdez would never be caught sitting outside of her warm four walls with the rest of Val Dez High.

      Spencer stops beside the aisle Ansel and I are occupying and releases my hand. Taking his nonverbal invitation, I lead us both down the row and stand beside Ansel.

     As if sensing another presence outside of the concert going on in his head, Ansel stops his singing and fist pumping. His eyes automatically land on the lemonade bottle in my hand and he grabs the bottle without missing a beat.

     "It's about time you came back, Stormy. All of this fist pumping and singing has got me parched." Twisting the cap off of the bottle, Ansel starts to chug the lemonade.

     The band finishes their performance and march back off the field with the dancers waving and smiling to the crowd. All of the football players are taking their last huddle before breaking back onto the field.

     "I smell popcorn," I look over to see Ansel's bottle empty in his hand and his eyes on the popcorn in Spencer's hand. Like the one-track mind that he is, Ansel takes the popcorn from Spencer without acknowledging his presence.

     Spencer and I exchange a look as Ansel takes his seat and pops open the box. We both take our seats; Spencer has his eyes trained on the scoreboard and my eyes are trained on Ansel.

      "This popcorn is so good," Ansel comments as he shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth. He chews with his mouth open and I shift my body closer to Spencer. "It tastes just like the tears of the Holt Miners."

      "I wouldn't hold my breath," Spencer's confident words cause Ansel to start choking and I quickly reach over to give him a hard pat on the back.

Ansel shoos my hand away and narrows his eyes at Spencer. If it were possible, Spencer would have a myriad of daggers sticking out of his face.

"This is exactly why you were not invited. You are simply too Australian to understand the greatest American sport to ever exist!" Ansel dramatically exclaims. "Val Dez High has never lost a football game to Holt High. Those are just the facts."

"How many times do I have to tell you that my mum is American and my dad is Australian?" Spencer rhetorically asks before continuing on his small rant. "Just because Ocean and I were born and raised in Australia does not mean we are clueless about American football."

Ansel opens his mouth and closes his mouth again. The fans on the Warriors' side let out a roar as one of the players scores a touchdown and a sly grin starts to creep its way onto Ansel's face.

"Why don't we make this interesting, Spence?" The grin stays glued on Ansel's face. "I bet the Val Dez Warriors beat the Holt Miners for the fifteenth year in a row. If Val Dez beats Holt, which we will, you have to decorate Bridget's locker with roses and love notes. If Holt wins, which they won't, I will dump glitter all over the school and frame Reggie."

Rolling his eyes at Ansel's less than creative plan, Spencer comes up with a bet of his own. "If Holt wins, which they will, you have to steal Ocean's car. If Val Dez wins, which they won't, I will move back home to Australia and live with my grandparents the rest of the year."

     Wow! They both came up with the most uncreative bet. Ansel's plan of getting Reggie involved will land him in a mess that I will not get him out of, and Spencer's plan of getting Ocean involved will... I have no idea what will happen. If anything, Ocean will be pissed at Spencer and Bridget will take this as an opportunity to further track Ocean's whereabouts.

      "Whose bet consequences sounds better to you, Stormy?" Ansel asks, now feeling the need to drag me into a situation I could not careless about.

      "Don't drag Storm into this," Spencer defends. Any hopes that he would stick to this belief is gone shortly after when I feel his eyes on the side of my head. "We all know she is going to side with me."

       "Please," Ansel scoffs. "Stormy is the most unbiased person when it comes to making bets on sports. We've been best friends for four years and you have only been around for the last three years. Just because you two have had two whole dates does not mean you have the upper hand."

      Great, sassy Ansel has entered the conversation and will not go away until he gets his way. Even when Ansel does get his way, the sass lingers around for a few days.

     "If Ansel wins, Spencer has to get a tattoo of the Warriors mascot on the back of his shoulder blade. If Spencer wins, Ansel has to get a tattoo of the Miners mascot on the back of his shoulder blade."

      What? I never claimed to be a genius at creating bet outcomes. Reggie is the mastermind of creating bet outcomes. They typically fall under the illegal category but they are a Reggie signature.

     "Mum would kill me if she ever found out I got a tattoo. She still has yet to find out Ocean has a small tattoo of Australia on the right side of his chest. I have the upper hand in the good son department."

     Ansel crosses his arms over his chest and smirks at Spencer's lack of confidence in Holt High winning. "Someone lost his confidence in the opposing team."

     "I hope you have a good pain tolerance, MacArthur. You are going to need it for when Val Dez kicks Holt's ass." The confidence is back in Spencer's voice, and the two of them shake hands in mutual agreement.

    Fourth quarter comes and goes so quick that the final score is not what either boy had expected.