Ena changed out of her sports clothes and into her knee-length jeans and a white tank top. It brought out the color of her snow-white complexion which flushed abnormally red, matching that of her hair, when she stepped back out.
The sun didn't seem like an ally anymore as she walked through, crossing the unused part of the field back to the audience who she hoped didn't recognize her to be the girl who had just scored a flying fire-ball.
But they did. Apparently, Ena's features were more noticeable, whether or not she was dressed in sporty clothes or not. Letting her red hair fall down like curtains on either side of her face, she moved past everyone else who tried talking to her.
"That kick was great! You were amazing!"
"Thank you," she muttered half-heartedly to the boy who'd said that before knocking her shoulder roughly with his as she headed towards a more secluded area of the bleachers. Ena was successful in making a clear point that she didn't want to talk to anyone or be talked to by anyone.
Sitting herself down onto an empty aisle, she slipped her feet out of her sandals and placed them on the metal surface of the seat. Hugging her knees to her chest, she leaned back slightly and watched the game in silence.
But her demeanor of "leave me alone" didn't have its effect on one particular person. She didn't see the teenage boy who sat next to her, not until he said, "You're the fiery kind, eh?"
She turned, glaring into the calm brown depths of the boy's eyes as he smiled back.
I'm going to kill this punk.