Back to the Start
***. ***. ***.
I was right, Noah wasn’t in either of my last two classes. As soon as the bell rang I shot out of my seat. I may be sounding like a creeper, but trust me, it’s not as bad as you think. He’s just really hot. Anyways, Brandon meets up with me at my locker like usual and when I relay Matt’s message he just nods.
“So, we’re going to watch the practice right?” Hell yes we are. Okay, scratch that, now I really sound like a creeper.
“Sounds good.” My insides are practically doing the conga I’m so happy. I’d only seen the kid once, but it was enough to turn my insides into mush. I’m not sure if this was the reaction guys got when they were chrushing on a girl…but I feel pretty gay right now, and if my brother could see inside my head I’m sure he’d say the same thing
Still trying to push down my excitement we exit the building and walk over to the soccer field, where Coach Green is juggling a ball. He accidently kicks it to hard and it comes flying over to me, where I bounce it off my knee and kick it back. He looks shocked for a second and then squints at me, “Let me guess, another Carter boy?”
“Yes sir.” I raise my hand in a sort of half salute, “The youngest.”
“Thank god.” He chuckles, “I don’t think I could take anymore of you folks, your brothers are going to be the death of me.”
I smile at him, he’d pretty much voiced what all the other teachers at this school were to afraid to say. I’m pretty sure every teacher that has had my brothers either went prematurely gray or gained a few extra wrinkles (which was saying something for Mr. Takaseli), they were just that obnoxious.
“So son, are you trying out for the team?” he gives me a jovial smile, “That was pretty good aim you had just there.”
“Uh…no. I-I can’t, sorry Coach.”
“Aw that’s a shame.” He looks honestly let down, and I wonder how my brothers truly act during practice, “Are you staying for the practice?”
I open my mouth to say something when someone pounds me on the back, “Hey coach!”
James and Jared emerge from either side of me, huge shit eating grins on their faces. “I see you met Cole here.”
“Yeah, I did.” He gives them a stern look that they see right through, “I think I like him better than you.”
“Aw come on Coach, you don’t really mean that.” He pulls a mock hurt face, “You love us more than anyone.”
“Sure. Now go and start drills.” He blows his whistle long and loud and the entirety of the soccer team goes running past Brandon and I. The last guy slouches past at a leisurely pace. A small shiver goes down my spine as I recognize Noah, his tan skin practically glowing in the sunlight.
“Come on Cole,” I reluctantly turn away as Brandon tugs on my arm, trudging behind him over to the bleachers. We grab a seat at the top and sprawl out on the bench. As I watch Noah drag across the field I wonder whether or not he could actually play. Judging just from his appearance now, I’d give a solid no. But then again, I didn’t really look like I could play either.
I was kind of lanky, all arms and legs. I was a little over six feet, tall for my age, and more than half my length was thanks to my legs. Needless to say, I was a fast runner, and I could handle the ball pretty well too (not to toot my own horn or anything).
When Coach blew the whistle I was pleasantly surprised with Noah’s soccer skills. He wasn’t David Beckam or anything, but he practically danced around the guys on the team. When they scrimmaged him and my brothers were put on the same team, and they proved to be an unstoppable force, crushing the other guys. Brandon and I laughed every time they scored, because it just looked too easy.
Jared, being the punk he is, started mocking a few of the guys. One took a swing at him but he dodged it with a laugh. And then, finally, the practice was over. My stomach was growling and when all of my brothers were in the car I jumped in with a sigh. Much as I wanted to see Damien.
I needed food.
__
I attended my brother’s practices for a week while my father was off doing who knows what. Brandon and I sat at the top of the bleachers every day, watching my brothers practice for hours while I steadily grew hungrier and hungrier. Now, it was Friday, and this time when we reached the top I lay down on my back, one foot firmly on the bench, the other dangling down. “Dude, I’m beat.” I told Brandon, flinging an arm over my eyes, “Thank god it’s Friday.”
“I hear yah.” He flicked my bare shin, “I am so ready for this weekend it’s not even funny.”
“alright.” I smirked, “I won’t laugh.”
He grunted and flicked my shin harder, “Don’t be a smart ass.”
This time I did laugh, and then sighed, “Wake me up when practice is over.”
“’Kay.”
“And that doesn’t mean push me off the bench or do anything else to inflict pain.” He chuckled, “Emotional or physical.”
“Alright princess. Just go to sleep.”
I grumbled a few times at the word princess but was a sleep in less than a minute. I was in the middle of a particularly nice dream when something cold splashed over my face. Sitting up quick, I gape like a fish, scrubbing the freezing water out of my eyes, “What the hell?!”
My brothers are all laughing, clutching their stomachs as if in pain, “Dude, that was priceless!” James and Jared high five one another.
I glare at Brandon, “You couldn’t just wake me up nicely this once?”
“Wasn’t me.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender and points over to where the twins are still laughing.
“Fucker.” I seethe.
“Oh Cole,” I see David, trying to look ashamed at me, “Is that any way to talk in front of a guest?”
“A guest?” I scrub at my hair, sending water flying everywhere, “The fuck are you talking about-“ And that’s when I notice him, standing quietly at the edge of our little group. Noah.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I look over to Matt, who shrugs and also points to the twins. Damn them, they always seem to ruin my life. And I’m not exaggerating people, I remember once in sixth grade, we were eating lunch and they spilled a bottle of water on me and told everyone I pissed my pants. And then eighth grade they wrote all over a desk and when the teacher caught them they blamed it on me. And most recently, I was running the summer before ninth grade and they tripped me, causing me to sprain my ankle. Because of that I couldn’t try out for the soccer team.
And now this. So I say again. Damn. Them.
They didn’t seem to notice the aura of hate radiating off me and smiled cheerfully, “Noah’s coming to our house. We’re going to go shoot some zombies. You don’t
mind if we use your X-Box right?”
I looked at Noah, who stared straight back at me, “No.” I gritted out, “I guess not.” And that’s how the worst day of my life started.
“So, we’re going to watch the practice right?” Hell yes we are. Okay, scratch that, now I really sound like a creeper.
“Sounds good.” My insides are practically doing the conga I’m so happy. I’d only seen the kid once, but it was enough to turn my insides into mush. I’m not sure if this was the reaction guys got when they were chrushing on a girl…but I feel pretty gay right now, and if my brother could see inside my head I’m sure he’d say the same thing
Still trying to push down my excitement we exit the building and walk over to the soccer field, where Coach Green is juggling a ball. He accidently kicks it to hard and it comes flying over to me, where I bounce it off my knee and kick it back. He looks shocked for a second and then squints at me, “Let me guess, another Carter boy?”
“Yes sir.” I raise my hand in a sort of half salute, “The youngest.”
“Thank god.” He chuckles, “I don’t think I could take anymore of you folks, your brothers are going to be the death of me.”
I smile at him, he’d pretty much voiced what all the other teachers at this school were to afraid to say. I’m pretty sure every teacher that has had my brothers either went prematurely gray or gained a few extra wrinkles (which was saying something for Mr. Takaseli), they were just that obnoxious.
“So son, are you trying out for the team?” he gives me a jovial smile, “That was pretty good aim you had just there.”
“Uh…no. I-I can’t, sorry Coach.”
“Aw that’s a shame.” He looks honestly let down, and I wonder how my brothers truly act during practice, “Are you staying for the practice?”
I open my mouth to say something when someone pounds me on the back, “Hey coach!”
James and Jared emerge from either side of me, huge shit eating grins on their faces. “I see you met Cole here.”
“Yeah, I did.” He gives them a stern look that they see right through, “I think I like him better than you.”
“Aw come on Coach, you don’t really mean that.” He pulls a mock hurt face, “You love us more than anyone.”
“Sure. Now go and start drills.” He blows his whistle long and loud and the entirety of the soccer team goes running past Brandon and I. The last guy slouches past at a leisurely pace. A small shiver goes down my spine as I recognize Noah, his tan skin practically glowing in the sunlight.
“Come on Cole,” I reluctantly turn away as Brandon tugs on my arm, trudging behind him over to the bleachers. We grab a seat at the top and sprawl out on the bench. As I watch Noah drag across the field I wonder whether or not he could actually play. Judging just from his appearance now, I’d give a solid no. But then again, I didn’t really look like I could play either.
I was kind of lanky, all arms and legs. I was a little over six feet, tall for my age, and more than half my length was thanks to my legs. Needless to say, I was a fast runner, and I could handle the ball pretty well too (not to toot my own horn or anything).
When Coach blew the whistle I was pleasantly surprised with Noah’s soccer skills. He wasn’t David Beckam or anything, but he practically danced around the guys on the team. When they scrimmaged him and my brothers were put on the same team, and they proved to be an unstoppable force, crushing the other guys. Brandon and I laughed every time they scored, because it just looked too easy.
Jared, being the punk he is, started mocking a few of the guys. One took a swing at him but he dodged it with a laugh. And then, finally, the practice was over. My stomach was growling and when all of my brothers were in the car I jumped in with a sigh. Much as I wanted to see Damien.
I needed food.
__
I attended my brother’s practices for a week while my father was off doing who knows what. Brandon and I sat at the top of the bleachers every day, watching my brothers practice for hours while I steadily grew hungrier and hungrier. Now, it was Friday, and this time when we reached the top I lay down on my back, one foot firmly on the bench, the other dangling down. “Dude, I’m beat.” I told Brandon, flinging an arm over my eyes, “Thank god it’s Friday.”
“I hear yah.” He flicked my bare shin, “I am so ready for this weekend it’s not even funny.”
“alright.” I smirked, “I won’t laugh.”
He grunted and flicked my shin harder, “Don’t be a smart ass.”
This time I did laugh, and then sighed, “Wake me up when practice is over.”
“’Kay.”
“And that doesn’t mean push me off the bench or do anything else to inflict pain.” He chuckled, “Emotional or physical.”
“Alright princess. Just go to sleep.”
I grumbled a few times at the word princess but was a sleep in less than a minute. I was in the middle of a particularly nice dream when something cold splashed over my face. Sitting up quick, I gape like a fish, scrubbing the freezing water out of my eyes, “What the hell?!”
My brothers are all laughing, clutching their stomachs as if in pain, “Dude, that was priceless!” James and Jared high five one another.
I glare at Brandon, “You couldn’t just wake me up nicely this once?”
“Wasn’t me.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender and points over to where the twins are still laughing.
“Fucker.” I seethe.
“Oh Cole,” I see David, trying to look ashamed at me, “Is that any way to talk in front of a guest?”
“A guest?” I scrub at my hair, sending water flying everywhere, “The fuck are you talking about-“ And that’s when I notice him, standing quietly at the edge of our little group. Noah.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I look over to Matt, who shrugs and also points to the twins. Damn them, they always seem to ruin my life. And I’m not exaggerating people, I remember once in sixth grade, we were eating lunch and they spilled a bottle of water on me and told everyone I pissed my pants. And then eighth grade they wrote all over a desk and when the teacher caught them they blamed it on me. And most recently, I was running the summer before ninth grade and they tripped me, causing me to sprain my ankle. Because of that I couldn’t try out for the soccer team.
And now this. So I say again. Damn. Them.
They didn’t seem to notice the aura of hate radiating off me and smiled cheerfully, “Noah’s coming to our house. We’re going to go shoot some zombies. You don’t
mind if we use your X-Box right?”
I looked at Noah, who stared straight back at me, “No.” I gritted out, “I guess not.” And that’s how the worst day of my life started.
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