Feat. Ginny - Blog Posts

spvrty​:

Ginny shrugged, “The ones near the football field work. Go figure.” She swung her legs, her nerves starting to put themselves on display. Talking with new people wasn’t her forte. She’d probably be a charming jokester if you got to know her. She assumed that was true, but had yet to prove it since know one had tried getting to know her yet. 

“Yeah, Ginny,” she confirmed, “We had second period biology together sophomore year.” That came out too fast. Already she sounded like a stalker. Her good memory and lack of filter betrayed her once again. “…I think.” 

xx.

Cole snorted, leaning himself against the bleachers. "Ah. The good old high school hierarchy at its finest." Yes, technically, he was on the football team... but as the alternate for the alternate for the kicker, he was really just the waterboy. Whatever, it looked good on his college application and that was really the extent of it. But for Ginny, who seemed a serious athlete, he's sure that was incredibly frustrating.

He considered it for a moment and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds right. I was never very good at biology. Nothing to argue about," Cole digressed. "Anyways," he turned his attention to Ginny once more, "are you back in Hawkins for good? Or on break?" He was glad that he got to split his time between Indiana State and Hawkins; Cole was sure being here full-time would drive him at least a little crazy. Crazier.

Every now and then, on a day he didn't have to work, Cole found himself wandering aimlessly around the main attractions of Hawkins; like he was taking a tour of his hometown. Today, somehow, he ended up at the high school. He couldn't decide if it was self-sabotage or nice to remember, but everywhere he looked he could see him. Lost in thought, it took the girl's deep sigh to shake him out of the fog. "Damn. Should've known the school was that broke," he joked, trying to plant himself firmly in the here-and-now.

Cole walked closer, peering at the girl. They definitely went to high school together, but weren't really friends. "Ginny, right?"

WHO: ginny sprat & open.

WHERE: the hawkins high tennis courts. 

she sat on the picnic table, head bent as she re-wrapped her racket’s handle. sweat dripped down her forehead and stung her eyes, but she hardly stopped to wipe it away. glancing up at the person nearby, who’s repeated pushes of the button indicated a familiar frustration. 

“water fountain’s broken,” she sighed, “so don’t even bother.”