Wild Fury (Fallen Royals Book 6) by S. Massery

Author:S. Massery [Massery, S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-27T23:00:00+00:00

21

Lux

Two Years Ago - Lux’s Junior Year of High School

My grandmother tuts. She makes weird little noises when she’s trying to get my attention—but it’s only when she wants to impart wisdom on me. Like it’ll be accidental if I meet her gaze and she says, “You know, when I was your age…”

I keep my head bent over my lap, cleaning my camera. It’s risky to do it in the moving car, but I forgot last night. And now there’s no time.

“Lucille,” Grandma says.

“Grandmother.”

She’s not a huge fan of the formal name, but neither am I. I only use it when she uses Lucille. And honestly, what were my parents thinking? It’s an old person’s name. It’s my great-grandmother’s name—that’s how old it is.

“Your photography is impressive,” she finally says. “But I’m not sure it is going to lead to a career.”

I do look up now. “What?”

“All I’m saying is that you should try putting your energy into other things.”

“I take photos for the school newspaper.” I shove my glasses up my nose. I can’t wait for the day I can just wear contacts and be done with it. Or better yet, get that laser surgery and toss my glasses entirely. “And I usually write up something about the games. Sports journalism is a big career.”

She shrugs.

“Or fashion,” I add, hating how my anger rises so fast. “I could take famous people’s portraits for magazines—like Mom’s magazine. She might even hire me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Grandma.” I try to keep the sting out of the word.

“Next year, you’ll be applying to schools.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “Where you go to college will affect the rest of your life.”

Great. Except for the tiny fact that I’m not sure if I can even afford college. My parents haven’t said anything about funding it, or helping me out in the slightest. I’m the forgotten child, after all.

We turn into the Lion’s Head driveway, and she navigates slowly past the circle that leads up to the main part of the building. Our football field—a giant, ostentatious thing—is set back, past a thicket of trees. It’s in a league of its own, with its own parking and everything.

She stops off to the side, because the main drop-off zone is far too crowded. I slide my camera back into the padded bag and seal it closed.

“Do you need a ride home?” she asks.

I know better than to say yes. The game will be late, and her and Grandpa are always in bed by nine. I’ll be lucky to get a few quotes from our players for the paper and be out of here by ten.

“I’m all set,” I tell her.

Dusk is already falling. Night games are my favorite. Slightly harder to shoot with the fluorescent lights beaming down, reflecting off helmets… but I like a challenge.

I hop out and circle the field. It’s not completely closed in like a real stadium, although its grandeur can sometimes make it feel like that. There are two tall stands on either long side of the field.

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