Having clarified the issue of questions with Mrs. Ingram, the class continued with a normalcy appreciated by me, Sheldon, who surely understood that his superiority in answers for this day was nothing more than a strange favor from the teachers. He maintained a consistently annoyed frown throughout the rest of the class, even when answering one of the few remaining questions.
The class ended with the sound of the bell, prompting everyone to rise from their seats. "Remember your homework," said Mrs. Ingram with a fake smile. "And PJ, good luck in the game today," she continued with a genuine smile as she bid farewell to the other students.
"We're on the team too," grumbled Georgie as we walked out of the classroom. "Yes, but you're not her favorite student," Alan countered calmly, a strange smile on his face. "No, obviously, the favorite is SuperStar," Brock said excitedly, pushing my shoulders frantically, causing my other friends to nod in agreement.
As in the morning, the entire school was once again buzzing with excitement. People shouted in the hallways and chanted rhythmic cheers involving the school mascot. On the way to the school's locker rooms, I received more pats on the back than I had ever felt before, and my friends also became the targets of weak encouragements.
"Now I'm really excited," Brock said with a big smile as he opened the locker room door.
Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was completely opposite to the one outside. The remaining players from the previous team sat on the benches, completely defeated, with their heads down. Some of them even appeared to be praying with their eyes tightly closed.
As we made our way to our lockers, my friends, especially Brock and David, began to lose their broad smiles as they surveyed the surroundings.
"What's going on here?" Brock cryptically asked, completely losing his excited smile and succumbing to the strange atmosphere.
"The first game for Medford has always been bad," Alan said seriously, opening his locker to change into his uniform.
"But we haven't played yet. How can they be so down?" David asked, concerned, looking around.
"In the past, idiot," Alan commented, exasperated. "Every year, a new team is formed, and every year, they have a very bad streak starting with the first game of the season. Why do you think the coach accepts freshmen for the school's only team?" he continued as he changed into his uniform. "They hope that the new team will achieve something, and the whole school does too," he finished seriously, pointing his thumb at the door we had entered a few moments ago.
Alan's words had hit my friends, and they had also made me reconsider all of our classmates' actions in recent days. They weren't excited; they were hopeful.
It was a new weight to carry.
Clapping loudly, I made my now-silent friends snap out of their thoughts. "Let's not dwell on that. We have a game we've trained for, so let's just do what we've practiced, and nothing will go wrong," I said hopefully, trying to lift the spirits of those who listened, including myself.
My small words of encouragement seemed to have slightly achieved their goal, at least with my friends, who began to dress at a faster pace.
"Attention, everyone in the center!" Coach Wilkins shouted in the middle of the locker room with his arms at his sides.
"Thanks," said Mr. Cooper, giving the other coach a pat on the shoulder. "As you probably know, the first game of the season is special for this school," he continued after a moment of looking at everyone in the locker room. "I say the same thing every year, and I mean it," he said seriously, abruptly silencing a few older teammates who had laughed at his previous comment. "I hope this season will finally put a trophy on that shelf," he said calmly, pointing to his office, where he remained silent for a few moments.
With that, Coach Cooper and Coach Wilkins stood in place without saying anything, causing my teammates to wonder about the silence. Clearing his throat, Coach Wilkins nudged Coach Cooper with his elbow, urging him with a look to continue speaking.
"Well," Mr. Cooper said, snapping out of his thoughts and pausing for a moment as he looked at everyone intently, "just do what you've learned in training and focus on the game," he said, making an obviously fake attempt at enthusiasm, raising a fist and then nodding strangely and rigidly before returning to his office.
"And have fun," Coach Wilkins added awkwardly before following Mr. Cooper into the office, stopping before entering and saying, "go warm up."
"Well, that wasn't weird at all," David said ironically, shaking his head in disappointment and beginning to walk out of the locker room onto the field, following many other teammates who were leaving with their spirits deflated, holding their helmets.
George, walking behind everyone else, seemed to be the most disappointed of all.
A few moments later, only a few of us remained in the locker room, including Brock, Alan, and me. "Ready to go?" Brock asked after finishing dressing.
"Yeah, just a moment," I replied, walking toward the coaches' office.
After knocking on the door and waiting for a moment to be given permission to enter, I found Coach Cooper and Coach Wilkins standing by their desks. They seemed to have been talking about something before I interrupted them.
"Duncan," Coach Wilkins said, nodding in greeting and silently urging me to speak.
"Coaches," I greeted back. I didn't know how to start the necessary conversation. "I just wanted to come because, well," I continued, still hesitating to say what I was thinking.
"What's wrong, PJ?" Coach Cooper asked, concerned, approaching and placing his hand on my shoulder, inspecting me nervously. "Is your arm hurting? Can't you play? Are you injured?" he quickly asked in succession, hyperventilating and causing both Coach Wilkins and me to worry about the health of the man who had suffered a heart attack just a few days ago.
"No, no," I quickly said, trying to calm the agitated man and guiding him gently to his chair with Coach Wilkins' help. "Calm down, Coach, you need to breathe; you can't get worked up like this," I reminded him, offering him a glass of water from his desk.
Breathing with difficulty, placing a hand on his chest and starting to sweat profusely, Coach Cooper took the glass from my hand and began drinking rapidly. "Yes, you're right," he said between gasps after consuming a large amount of water in a short time. "Sorry for that," he continued after slightly controlling his breathing.
"No, it's my fault. I just wanted to say that my teammates were feeling a bit down after your speech, Coach," I quickly said to the now less agitated man, avoiding the gazes of the two coaches in front of me.
"What, wasn't Coach's speech motivating?" Coach Wilkins asked angrily and indignantly, raising his voice as he walked to my side of the coaches' desk.
"Calm down, Wayne, PJ is right," Mr. Cooper said quietly, having remained silent until then. "It's true, my previous speech was in poor taste, and I pushed the kids too hard," he continued, explaining to his assistant while struggling to stand up. Seeing that it was a bit difficult for him to do so, Coach Wilkins and I quickly approached again to help him.
"Come on," Mr. Cooper said somewhat embarrassed, removing our hands from his arms as he quickly made his way out of the office, straightening his back with each step.
"Well done, kid," Coach Wilkins said as he passed me, giving me some encouraging pats on the shoulder.
"Thank you?" I said, slightly puzzled, in a whisper to no one in particular because the two coaches had already left the office.
Quickly snapping out of my thoughts, I also left the office to go to the locker rooms to grab my helmet and head out to the field.
The day was perfectly sunny, and the stands were filling up with more people by the minute. Schoolmates, whom I vaguely recognized from seeing them in the hallways, were accompanied by adults, possibly family members of someone at the school, and a few others I didn't recognize.
"Go, PJ!" I heard from the stands, followed by the sound of a toy trumpet. Dressed in the school's colors and with her entire face painted in those same colors, Mom was jumping cheerfully along with Missy, who was also with the rest of the Cooper family.
Upon noticing that I had noticed their presence, both Missy and Mom became even more excited, shouting even louder and waving their arms erratically.
Next to them were the other members of my family, awkwardly trying to distance themselves a few steps from the excited woman who continued to shout excitedly.
Teddy, who was the most embarrassed by Mom's behavior, was trying to hide her face while talking to one of her friends, whom I had met the other day.
With another loud blast from her toy trumpet, Mom started celebrating again and shouting, playfully spelling out the two letters that made up my nickname.
Enjoying the whole situation, I raised my hand to greet my family, causing the already very excited woman to shout even louder, along with the little excited girl by her side.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sharp sound of a whistle. "Thanks for joining us, Duncan," said Coach Cooper ironically after blowing his whistle loudly, now standing upright with confidence in front of the lined-up team.
I quickly positioned myself among my teammates to await what the coach was going to say.
The coach paced in silence for a moment in front of us, followed by Coach Wilkins, who, probably not knowing what was happening, decided to put on a serious face while assessing us with a half-closed eye.
"Someone made me realize that I didn't explain myself well a few moments ago in the locker room," Coach Cooper finally said calmly, still walking in front of us. "The school has a losing streak, yes," Coach Cooper asserted sternly, "but that doesn't mean it's always that way," he continued with a furrowed brow.
"I don't know what those people outside see when they look at you standing here," Coach Cooper pointed to the stands seriously, "but I know what I see," he said, nodding and with a small smile on his face. "I see strong players," he said, giving a tap on Brock's shoulder pads as he passed by him with Georgie and other teammates, "fast ones," he continued, also moving David's shoulders, "tenacious ones," he nodded at Alan, receiving the same gesture from my calm friend, "and I see clever players," he finished, looking directly into my eyes.
"I don't care about the outcome today," Coach Cooper said confidently, "what matters most to me today is that you show what you're capable of," he continued, closing his fist tightly in front of his body. "Now, foot warm-up!" he shouted to make his whistle sound, causing all of us, including me, to start moving our feet in place quickly.
"To the right!" Coach Cooper yelled as Coach Wilkins blew his whistle. "To the left!" we repeated the process. I could see my teammates with different expressions, more prepared and genuinely motivated for the game. With the sound of the whistle again, we turned and repeated.
We continued our warm-up until the sound of trumpets and drums began to play on the other side of the field. Cheers and whistles were heard as a bunch of people dressed in the colors of another school entered, trotting onto the field. First came a small band, followed by a cheerleading team, followed by our rival team trotting in while giving out cheers resembling tribal war cries.
"Look at their cleats," I heard someone behind me. "They're all rich," another of my teammates said with disdain in his voice.
Coach Cooper, along with Coach Wilkins, approached the coaches of the other school to greet them.
After a few moments of the coaches greeting the referees, we approached the coaches who were talking among themselves, discussing with the clipboard that Coach Wilkins was carrying.
"Duncan, go for the coin toss. If you win, we want the initial kickoff," Coach Cooper suddenly said, pushing me to the center of the field, where one of the referees was already waiting along with the captain of the other team.
With pats on the back and lots of pushing, they made me move to where the referee was. "You got this, SuperStar," Brock, who was once again completely excited, said.
"He's going for the coin toss; there's nothing I can do. It's just luck," Alan said seriously, silencing our friend.
Moving quickly with cheers of support from the stands and my teammates to the center of the field alongside the referee and the opposing team's captain, "Good afternoon, gentlemen, I'm Referee Coleman," said the man with an annoyed expression on his face, turning to the opposing team's captain. "You're the visitors; you call it in the air," he ordered before flipping the coin.
"Heads," said the other captain confidently.
When the referee received the coin, he checked the result, nodding and showing it first to the visiting team and then to me. "We want to receive," said the opposing captain with an annoyed smile as he nodded; it had landed on heads.
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The referee nodded as he put his whistle in his mouth and pointed with his hand to his side of the field.
After giving each of us a pat on the back, the referee indicated that we should step away.
"Good luck, small-town boy," said the opposing team's captain as he trotted away, patting my shoulder in the direction of his team.
Strangely, his insinuation didn't bother me; I had expected that if something like this happened, as with Dr. Foreman, pride would make me upset, but no, on the contrary, it seemed amusing to me.
Upon returning to the team, I was greeted with pats on the shoulder from Coach Cooper. "It's okay, take a seat, PJ," he said, nodding with a strange, big smile.
"I'm sorry, I cursed," Brock said embarrassed as I took my seat next to him. "No worries, idiot, it wasn't your fault," I replied, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.
The special teams entered the field to kick off. The enthusiasm from the stands for both teams was especially noisy. Different school chants could be heard, cheerleaders reciting their own rhymes, and spectators shouting their own cheers to support their players.
The referee blew his whistle, and the kicker did his job. The sound of cheering was overshadowed by the sounds of collision and groaning due to hits during the game.
The opposing receiver was tackled after running a few yards, allowing the game to begin.
The defensive team entered the field, and from the benches, we cheered with applause and shouts for our teammates.
The formation was set, and when the referee gave the green light with another whistle, the opposing team started their play. Once again, all the noises were drowned out by the sounds of collision and grunting. The opposing team's quarterback handed off the ball to their halfback, who managed to run a few yards before being stopped.
"That's it!" Coach Cooper shouted with excitement while clapping cheerfully.
The game continued, and after the third down due to a cornerback's mistake, one of the receivers managed to score a touchdown. The cheers from the opposing team's spectators filled the field as the receiver celebrated his touchdown with his team.
Having scored the first six points of the game, the opposing team decided to attempt an extra point.
With the score at seven to zero, the other team's kicker was ready to send the ball to our receiver.
After a few minutes off the field, it was our turn to enter. "Come here, PJ," Coach Cooper said as he grabbed my helmet. "We're going to run a Wishbone to the left," Coach Cooper said seriously, and when I nodded, he allowed me to run onto the field.
As I entered the field, I heard various shouts calling my name, including my mom's voice among them.
"Wishbone to the left," I said to my teammates before starting the formation.
With everyone in their positions, for the first time in my two lives, I yelled to set up the play in an official game.
The sound of my own breathing echoed inside my helmet as I felt sweat running down the sides of my head. I could feel my heart beating in my legs as I prepared to hand off the ball.
"Set, hut!" I yelled, and in an impressive way, everything started. For a moment, I thought I would freeze when I received the ball. I could see my teammates' bodies colliding with the defenders. Brock, with his big body, had managed to do his job, stopping one of the defensive tackles. Quickly, when one of the runners was within my reach, I handed off the ball and ran in the opposite direction.
In the first play, we had managed to advance a few yards, and it was now second and seven yards to go. "Let's try to the right," I said when we regrouped.
Again, suddenly, all the noises around seemed to lower in volume when my own breathing was the only thing I could hear inside my helmet.
Taking a deep breath, I got into position again. "Set, hut!" I yelled again, receiving the ball and waiting for the runner to approach.
Georgie in front of me failed to cover his defensive tackle, allowing him to intercept and tackle the runner who was supposed to receive the ball.
Given the circumstances, I looked ahead on the field to try a pass. At one point, I made eye contact with one of our wide receivers who suddenly had his hands on his chest, silently requesting the ball. Quickly, I retracted my arm, shifting my body's balance rapidly, and threw the ball, hoping the pass would land correctly.
It seemed to move in slow motion, or at least that's how it felt to me. I could see the receiver raising his arms, ready to catch the ball, and I also saw the ball slipping through his fingers and bouncing out of bounds.
The game continued, and we lost possession of the ball after a few more plays. So, the offensive team returned to the bench.
"That was a great pass, PJ," Coach Cooper said, pulling me out from among my teammates. "But for now, I want you to save your arm until the second half, okay?" he asked, still serious as he squeezed my shoulder.
Coach Cooper let me go when I nodded, allowing me to go to the benches.
"Thanks," I said as I grabbed a water bottle from the cooler before sitting down with my friends.
"The first pass was incredible. If Jefferson had caught it, I'm sure it would have been a touchdown," Brock said with a hint of annoyance toward a now embarrassed receiver.
"Don't tease him," I reprimanded my friend with a pat on the back of his head. "My pass was way too high," I continued, keeping my eyes on the game.
"We all saw the pass, PJ. It's good to be modest, but don't sell yourself short," Alan said, who was also calmly watching the game.
The game continued, and with a whistle, the referee signaled the end of the first quarter. Everyone returned to their benches to hydrate and listen to the coach's instructions.
A few minutes later, the game resumed.
During the second quarter, the opposing team managed to get very close to the end zone, opting to kick a field goal instead of running another play.
With that, we were losing ten to zero.
Once again in position, I took a breath, remembering Coach Cooper's instruction. "Set, hut!" The sounds of hits and grunts came from the front this time, and the runner managed to reach me.
With the ball handoff executed correctly again, we managed to advance a few yards.
We repeated the play three more times, but unfortunately, we couldn't advance past the ten yards, losing possession of the ball once again.
"That's okay, well done," Coach Cooper said, trying to boost the morale of the offensive team as we walked back to the bench. Sitting there once again, I felt particularly defeated. All that time spent practicing throws would be for nothing if I couldn't perform.
Drinking from my water bottle in silence, along with my teammates, who were also quiet, we continued to watch the game. The opposing team was making gradual progress down the field without losing possession of the ball.
When they were near the end zone again, the opposing team changed their previous strategy and decided to run a play.
The second quarter's time had elapsed after the opposing team scored again, opting for an extra point by kicking the ball.
We returned to the locker room amid encouraging applause from the stands. I could see my mom still maintaining her spirit, even though we were trailing by ten to seven. She managed to lift my mood slightly, making me chuckle as we made our way to the locker room.
As before the game, the atmosphere in the locker room was utterly somber. Everyone had their heads down, lamenting their mistakes during the game.
"I know we're losing by a lot, and we probably won't win this time, again," Coach Cooper said after a few minutes of observing the dejected teenagers. "In fact, we definitely won't win this time," he continued, lowering his voice with a defeated smile. "But we won't give up either," he said, this time raising his voice, making my teammates lift their heads. "Losing doesn't make you losers," Mr. Cooper said calmly to everyone in the locker room. "You learn as much from failures as you do from successes," Coach Cooper continued with a proud smile.
Moving from the center of the room towards his office, Coach Cooper said with a smile, "So, you can come out in the second half feeling sorry for yourselves, or you can go out and give them a beating," he finished, raising his voice above the more spirited shouts of my teammates. "Captain," Mr. Cooper said, turning to enter his office.
Understanding the implication, I stood in the center of the room, urging everyone to stand up and join me.
Gathering in the center of the room seemed to excite my teammates, who made sounds of encouragement, waiting for my words. I had never done this before. "Who wants to be great?" I asked, shouting after a moment of taking a deep breath to dispel the embarrassment of what I was about to do. "Me!" my teammates shouted. "So, you want greatness?" I asked again, shouting and addressing Brock, who was one of the closest. "Yes, I want greatness," Brock replied, flexing his arms, causing my other teammates to shout in support. "What about you, do you want greatness?" I asked another teammate around me, receiving a similar response.
"Right now, we're down," I said, getting confirmations from my teammates. "We're on the ground," I repeated, louder. "They think they can stomp on us," I said, making my teammates shout in annoyance. "We won't let them," I declared, receiving words of support. "If you want greatness, you have to rise up and stomp on them," I concluded, shouting and being cheered on by the others on the team.
With shouts meant to intimidate, we returned to the field with the coaches right behind us, greeted by the spectators with cheers and encouragement, along with the cheerleaders who had caught onto the sudden good mood.
"Duncan," Coach Cooper called me. "Yes?" I asked as I approached him.
"From now on, I want to try some plays, so you're going to throw," he ordered with a proud smile.
"Okay," I nodded excitedly, returning to the sidelines to wait for the special teams to receive the ball.
Stepping onto the field once more, we lined up. "This is going to be easy," said the opposing team's middle linebacker, clapping his hands.
"Set, hut!" I shouted immediately after his joke, starting the play quickly.
I quickly stepped back a few paces to get a better view of the overall situation. David, who had started running at some point, was already on the other side of the opposing defensive line. Sharing a glance with my friend, I prepared to throw the ball.
Once again, everything seemed to move in slow motion, at least for me. The trajectory of the ball was beautifully etched in my mind as it traveled, and David's arms went up to catch the ball successfully. A moment later, before David could start running, the opposing team's strong safety tackled him, stopping the play.
"Well done," we heard Coach Cooper shout. We had managed to advance almost twenty yards.
When David returned to his position, being showered with words of encouragement and helmet taps, we quickly continued with the game.
Once again, I had the ball in my hands, ready to throw. This time, David was obstructed by the defensive line. Scanning my teammates, I found the receiver who had lost the ball several plays ago, Jefferson.
Nodding again, I threw, this time aiming for his chest where he had his hands. Managing to catch the ball, he quickly started running, evading two opponents and impressively leaping into the end zone to score our first points of the game.
We all started running behind him, and Jefferson didn't get up until we hoisted him up for a group hug. He seemed stunned, to say the least. He looked frozen as we playfully thumped him.
A moment later, it seemed like he snapped out of it, celebrating with enthusiasm, shaking my helmet.
Coach Cooper, who was a few steps away from us, shouted that we should try for the two-point conversion.
Repositioning ourselves, I signaled to my teammates that we would go for two points.
"Set, hut!" I shouted once more, receiving the ball, and within seconds, I threw it to David, who had managed to get on the other side within the end zone.
"Yes!" I heard someone shout before I registered what had happened to my teammates. It hadn't been long after the third quarter began when we had scored eight points to their seventeen. There was a chance to turn this around.
We were once again on the benches, waiting to go out onto the field. "Your passes have been very good, Duncan. Do you think you can keep it up until the end?" Coach Cooper asked, extremely excited.
"Yes, I believe I can," I replied confidently while testing the range of motion in my shoulder.
"Good," Coach Cooper nodded, still excited. "Keep sending the ball to Jefferson if you see him open," he continued with seriousness. "Jefferson!" he shouted as he approached my teammate.
Meanwhile, the opposing team was on their fourth down with four yards to go. It seemed like the defensive team had felt the pressure from the points we had just scored.
Once again, the opposing team's last play was stopped by our team, causing the stands to erupt with excitement.
It was our possession again, and the special teams received the ball, managing to advance a few yards before being stopped.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Brock shouted excitedly as we ran onto the field.
Once again, after several plays, we were just a few yards away from the end zone.
With a quick pass to Jefferson, who had managed to get a little distance from the defenders, we scored the next six points of the game.
Following the coach's instructions, we attempted an extra point with a field goal, making the score fifteen to seventeen.
Back on the bench after receiving congratulations from both coaches and cheers from the crowd, we took our seats while waiting for our turn to enter the game again.
Having finished the third quarter, the opposing team had managed to score a field goal, adding three points to their total.
After a brief rest where Coach Cooper explained the next strategy, we received the ball again, and it was our turn once more.
The game continued. We didn't lose possession, but we were definitely close to doing so several times. Time was running out when, with only a few seconds left on fourth down and just a few yards from the touchdown, I could feel the nerves making my hands sweaty. My heart's beating seemed to echo in my legs as well as at the back of my throat. Once again, as if everything was a game, the sounds around me faded, leaving me with only my breathing. "Set!" I shouted as loudly as I had all day. "Hut!" I received the ball, which felt heavier than usual in my hands.
There was no receiver to throw to; the opponents understood that we couldn't score with no one to pass the ball to. I made the decision to run myself.
Advancing quickly and evading an opposing player, I gained enough momentum to leap over Georgie, who was on the ground after a tough battle with another player. I couldn't hear anything, or at least, that's how it seemed. I was lying on the field, feeling my heart pounding in my chest, until I heard the referee's whistle indicating the score.
As if in an explosion, a collective shout echoed across the field. Without realizing what was happening, I was lifted off the ground aggressively, sandwiched between my friends, primarily Brock, who was hugging me tightly and lifting me a few inches off the ground. "We won!" Brock shouted with excitement.
Being placed back on the ground, I felt a flurry of hands slapping my helmet until I decided to remove it, trying to prevent the continued onslaught.
Coach Cooper and Coach Wilkins, followed by the other team members, also ran over to where we were at that moment. "We won, we finally won!" Coach Cooper shouted excitedly. I could swear I saw tears welling up in his eyes, but that was something I'd never mention to anyone.
Immersed in everything around me, happy for all that I was experiencing, I couldn't dodge a body running toward me. "PJ," Regina's voice said as she clung tightly to my shoulders, stopping with her legs against my hips. "We won!" I managed to say before Regina abruptly collided her face with mine.
It was an incredible moment, Regina's scent, which I had honestly fantasized about more than once, entering my nostrils, and her soft, small lips pressed against mine.
Lost in the sensation, I forgot where I was and got lost in it for a few long seconds until the sound of someone clearing their throat woke me from the moment.
"Mom?" I said, surprised to see the petite woman beside us with a questioning expression.
"Mrs. Duncan," Regina said with a nervous smile as she let go of my neck and stepped down from my body.
Losing her furrowed brow with a big smile, Mom addressed Regina, "You must be Regina. PJ has talked a lot about you," making the teenager even more embarrassed, and she clung to my arm again.
"Yes, nice to meet you, ma'am," Regina said with a strange smile as she looked at Mom's appearance.
"Mom, I..." I began, but the petite woman, losing her composure again, smiled manically, then jumped up to give me a strong hug.
Behind Mom, I found Bob, who was standing next to an embarrassed Teddy, who was playing with her hair amongst the crowd, and an excited Gabe, who was playing with one of my friends.
Seeing my gaze, Bob simply smiled and gave me a thumbs-up of approval, making me laugh reluctantly, as I still had Mom clinging tightly to my torso.
I'm enjoying my life. I couldn't let this go.
---
Author Thoughts:
As always, I am not American, and I am far from being a doctor.
With 100,000 words, I was debating whether to make a special chapter for this occasion or just a regular one, so I decided to create this chapter. Honestly, I'm not someone who enjoys watching sports; I prefer to watch movies or TV series. To write this chapter, I had to watch two games that lasted two hours each (the longest I've ever watched sports in my life, aside from fictional entertainment). I'm sure I made mistakes describing the game, and I hope you'll forgive me for that. This novel, in general, serves as a way to practice my writing skills. SPOILER: I have many novels planned for the years ahead, so I want to improve my writing, and what better way than with this story.
I know there's a general dislike for Regina, but again, I hope you can bear with me until this 'bitter pill' passes. I already have plans for the protagonist's romantic interest, and SPOILER: it's not Regina.
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Having said that,
I think that's all for now. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.
Thanks for reading! :D