Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
There’s nothing to do but say yes and leave, then hope she’s not letting me go permanently.
47
BITE YOUR FACE
Ivy
In the equipment room before the game, I wriggle into my new costume as Briar watches me with trepidation. Parvati’s here, too, biting her lip.
“Does it look that bad?” I ask Briar.
Briar shakes her head, blonde ponytail swishing. “No.”
“Then what’s that look for? You’re studying me like I’m wearing low-rise skinny jeans.” I turn to Parvati, who’s bouncing on her flats. “Why is Briar looking at me like I’m a fashion don’t?”
Parvati covers her mouth with her hand, but a grin sneaks through. “Because…it’s so hot.”
I cackle. “Shut up.”
“No, swear on it. That is the best costume ever. I can’t wait to post pics all over social,” Parvati says. But she’s always positive. I need the thumbs-up from a gal who doesn’t care much about fashion, and that’s Briar. Well, she definitely cares about her yoga fashion. Her leggings and sports bras are on point.
I glance down at the tawny fur I’m wearing, the form-fitting waistline, and the lush tail—long, but not so long I could trip on it on the ice.
Briar grabs the head and thrusts it at me. “I’m reserving judgment till we see it all.”
I tug the head on, then spin in a circle, anxious for an answer. “Verdict, Briar?”
I stop in front of the yoga instructor, waiting eagerly. Briar taps her lips for a few seconds, then the concern in her eyes vanishes. It’s replaced by approval in the form of a confident nod. “It’s official,” Briar declares. “That does not suck.”
I let out a whoop. “Finally!”
“This team has a long history of sucky mascots.”
“The polar bear was good,” Parvati interjects.
“Good. But not great. This is next level,” Briar says with an authoritative tone.
“That’s true,” Parvati agrees. “It’s better than a bear.”
I can’t wait to check it out, so I head over to the mirror, then smile from the inside. “I look cute but like I could bite your face off.”
Just like the owner wanted. And like I suggested when I sent her a card along with the boob-gap-no-more blouse. I still can’t quite believe she liked one of my ideas, but here I am, wearing the proof.
I wait in the tunnel before the game begins, excitement pinging through me. Then, my cue, as the announcer warbles, “And now, fans, get ready to meet…the Golden State Fox!”
Fired up, I hit the ice in my skates, racing across the slick surface, speeding around the oval, one leg stuck out behind me, my fox arms parked coolly behind my back, my tail flying.
The crowd cheers, and after the first lap, the announcer shouts, “And now, tonight’s lineup…”
I bring my back leg down, then hold out my furry arms wide, gesturing toward the tunnel, where the Avengers who might become Foxes come racing out onto the ice as I skate off.
Feeling pretty fucking foxy.
During the first intermission, I return to the rink, skating circles around the Ice Crew and their brooms. As they sweep up the surface, I sneak up on them like…
Well, a fox.
They pretend to be scared. By the time we’re done, the crowd is cheering and shouting. When the announcer encourages them to vote on their favorite mascot so far, I feel confident the fox won’t need to rig a thing.
In the final period, I swap my skates for paw-like shoes to work the crowds in the stands, whipping them up, even though the players hardly need our enthusiasm. Or maybe it does the trick because they beat the Los Angeles Timberwolves six to one.
The crowd goes wild, and I’m pretty sure we’ll get a new team name very, very soon.
Later, I’m hanging in the hallway with Oliver and Parvati, huddled over his tablet as we check the early votes. News flash—neither the fog nor the polar bear is winning.
“I knew it,” Parvati says brightly, then squeezes my arm.
“You can’t argue with a runaway lead,” Oliver says, then gives me a thumbs-up.
But leads can change, just like in games, so I won’t get too excited. It would be fun to wear that fox costume for the season. Wait. Hold on. I only signed on for the next few months. Why am I even considering the whole season as a fox?
I blink the thought away at the sound of heels clicking on concrete. Oliver, Parvati, and I snap our gazes up in tandem as Jessie strides down the hall, looking fashionable and functional in her Lily Greer pumps.
Her brown eyes meet mine, and she points to her shoes with an approving smile. “Still love them,” she says, then stops in front of us. “And the fans loved your idea.”
I smile, dipping my face. I hardly want to take credit for it. But Jessie clears her throat. “Ivy Samuels.”
Oh, shit. I look up. “Yes.”