Jameson winced at the sound of her voice. He shifted uncomfortably in place, feeling horribly out of place among the line of other boys. All the other boys were dressed in identical white t-shirts and blue shorts, lined up across the gym floor like little soldiers, their posture ramrod straight, arms at their sides, eyes straight ahead, trying to avoid meeting each other’s gaze. Jameson, in contrast, slouched in a red jacket and jeans. Why?
Because he, like a freakin’ idiot, had forgotten his gym clothes at God knows where. Again. For the third time this month. And the last time he had neglected to bring his gym stuff, Coach Delacourt had promised “Don’t let it happen again, Jameson. I promise you won’t be happy if it does.”
Well, she was certainly right about that. He was not looking forwards to this.
“Where are your gym clothes, Mr. Collins?” Coach Delacourt a
"...Ahh...haa...!" gasped Rachel in terror and peering at her left hand firstly. She seen her finger nails growing ever sharper; pulsing, twitching, and dreadfully burning.
"Are...t-these c-claws...I'm getting...?! whimpered Rachel and having dewy grey hued eyes. However, her whimper wasn't sounding human at all. It seemed to sounded as if a whine of a low pitch canine in pain.
She then peered shockingly; shaking at her right hand, and had seen it was keeping up its due changes with her left hand in synchronous. Her nails were so razor sharp that she thought she could use them to unpick locks with awkwardly as t