Mr. Popular And His Nerdy Sister novel Chapter 6

"Okay, I may deserve that," he scratches the back of his head. "I just came to tell you that I have a soccer game tonight, and I can't take you home so..." His voice lingers.

"Awesome," the sarcasm drips from my voice. I never used to be like this, sarcastic and snarky. "Who said anything about a soccer game?" I whisper to myself. Soccer games sound boring.

"So, are you going to stay and watch my game?"

"Do I have a choice? I mean, you are my ride?" I question.

"You can always have John-"

"No," I cut him off. "Limos are too flashy for me," I cross my arms looking away.

"Look, Marley," Conner rubs his face with his hands. "I haven't been treating you nicely, and I'm sorry about that."

"If you were sorry, you would change your ways," I slam my locker shut and walk away hoping that I'm going in the right direction.

"Mar, you're going the wrong way." Stopping in my tracks, I turn around and brush past Conner and head to the field.

I take a seat on the bleachers and watch the Ridgeway boys warm up. Not too long later the boys from the other school pull into the parking lot. The name on the red and white bus reads 'Westfield High'.

Where have I heard that name before? My brain starts to ache from trying to figure out the mystery. I seriously can't place my finger on it.

The bus doors open and boys pile out wearing red and black jerseys signifying that they are the guest team. You know, the home team usually wears white and the away team wears a dark color. Scanning the Westfield boys as they start warming up, my eyes land on number fourteen and suddenly I remember why I have heard of Westfield High: Jackson Richards.

The game flies by in no time. Well, it only flies by because I stopped paying attention after the first five minutes. It's official, I really don't like watching soccer. I finished all my homework and started to doodle in my sketch pad. I'm not a great artist, but I like to draw every once in a while.

"Marley," a familiar voice calls out to me. I'm currently hanging outside the boys locker rooms waiting for my brother. He's going to be a grump considering he just lost to his biggest rival.

"Hey, Jackson," I smile up at the boy standing in front of me.

"Did you watch the game?" He questions before rubbing his sweaty face with a towel.

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