The Truth Behind Penelope's Death

"Dude, what are they doing?" Conrad curiously whispered.

"Beats me." I said, "Perhaps Penelope and her friends were hitting on someone from our opponent."

"Someone?" Conrad studied every face of our opponents, one by one. "Well. If I am to pick whose had a better team and had a lot of good-looking young men, I am gonna hesitate to bet my one cent to them."

"Shut up," I said, my voice annoyed. "Then we better break their bones before those bastards could beat us."

My wolf tried to push the thought out of my mind as the game began, but it was hard. Every time I looked over at the bench, I saw Penelope and her friends cheering for the other team.

Even if I am not glancing at them from the bench, I could still hear their boisterous cheering and whooping, and it made me infuriated. I couldn't understand why she would do this to me.

So I tried to focus on the game, but my mind kept wandering back to Penelope. I missed a few tackles, mistimed a couple of passes,