This choice: Go to football practice. • Go Back...Chapter #20Go to football practice. by: smitch   You kit up and go out for practice. You're pleased to discover that you're on the opposing team to Bickelmeir and soon get down to playing the game.
You play your regular position as the lineman whereas Bickelmeir plays the Wide Receiver.
He's cussing the team, Huber the QB tells him to pipe down, you guess Sean would ignore it, but you snap and growl at the lineman opposite you to get out of your way when the whistle blows.
When it does your opponent quite wisely steps aside, you hit Bickelmeir hard, enough to feel your weight. You pin him down and he struggles to get up again but you push him down holding him to the ground by his face mask.
“Sean, Sean – easy bro!!” He yells
Suddenly a shout goes out from across the field; it’s coach. "Mitchell! Get your ass over here!"
With a groan you slowly jog over to the coach, the rest of the team whoops and you give them the bird as you pass.
You stop in front of coach and tip your head.
"What the FUCK was that about?" Without warning he smacks you around the head with his clipboard.
You blink slowly tipping your head the other way and you look up at him nostrils flaring.
"Are you giving me attitude Mitchell?" Coach growls.
You do your best to quench the fury boiling within you, and mumble "No sir..."
He smacks the clipboard around your head again, "I can't hear you Mitchell!"
"SIR, NO SIR!" you shout.
"Good, good… now get your ass back there and shake and make up!"
You jog back and Bickelmeir has a grin on his face. He wags is finger at you, and you feel your blood boil again; you wonder how Sean is able to keep his fury under control.
Your jog turns to a run; Bickelmeir panics and jogs backwards not daring to take his eyes off you.
This time you’re not holding back, you dig in hard. There's a dull thud as you make contact, your shoulder hits him heavy in the chest.
For a moment you’re both airborne, and after what seems like an eternity you hit the ground with a unhealthy crunch.
Sitting on him you repeatedly pummel him into the ground. He looks pale, his eyes wide as you shout into his face.
”What was you doing, with Taylor the night he died!”
”Why did you insist on tormenting me by moving to Westside!”
”Why the FUCK..."
Before you can finish the sentence someone grabs you and pulls you off. Struggling, you twist free and spin on your heels to see who it is. Coach!
You look up at him, you're still breathing heavily, your eyes flick between his face and the ground. Deep inside you know you've screwed up big time, this is bound to go on Sean's record.
Coach smacks his palm to your helmeted forehead, "For Gods sake listen to me Mitchell."
You focus again.
"As this is you're first warning, it will only be verbal. I expected so, so much more from you. You've not only disappointed me, but let down the whole team as well. Now get out of my sight! You're off the team for the next game."
You gasp, and your mouth drops.
Behind you Bickelmeir has managed to get to his feet, "Coach it's my fault, I egged him on; its my fault really - I'm sorry."
Coach looks between you and Bickelmeir, "Ok Mitchell you're back on the team, but I want both of you to give me five sprints between the ten and fifty yard marks."
You slowly jog to the ten yard mark, and take off your helmet throwing it to the grass. You start your sprints and are running back as you pass Bickelmeir only just starting his first.
Your mind wanders as you start to get into a rhythm, why did Bickelmeir own up to antagonising you? There was no reason for him to do so.
Suddenly you realise Bickelmeir has caught up; not unexpected, he's tall, lean and ideal for a wide receiver. He slows to match your jog.
”Come on big guy, work through it. I know it hurts, push through the barrier!” He shouts.
You frown over at him and flip him the bird.
Thankfully it's the final length and you reach ten yard line and stop dead, resting your arms on your knees breathing heavily.
Bickelmeir slaps you on the back, ”Good Job.”
You look at him, not needing to say anything. He raises his hands and turns jogging back to the locker room.
It's a couple of minutes before you get your breath back and pick up your helmet to walk back following Bickelmeir.
There's a guy sitting near the bleachers he watches you intently. As you approach he stands, he's tall and dark-haired and appears very confident.
”Got a couple of minutes?” He asks.
You take a seat, grateful for the opportunity.
”The names Frank, Frank Durras from Eastman. Just been checking out the team, looking good for the season.” He scratches his nose, ”Sean Mitchell isn’t it?”
You nod.
”Anyway, do you know a guy called Scott Bickelmeir?”
You give him a cold stare, ”Yeah, you just missed him.”
Frank looks over his shoulder, ”Oh that was him? Got what he asked for with that sacking,” he grins at you, ”Maybe you can answer my question. You work at Salopak right?”
You nod, but feel uneasy.
”Why did Bickelmeir and the kid that’s in a coma, um.."
”Harrison? Sawyer Harrison?” You reply, and then kick yourself.
”Yeah that's the guy, why did they get fired?”
You pause and tip your chin, "What is this the Spanish Inquisition?" You in a frustrated tone.
He thinks for a moment, "Not today, but even so I think I asked a fair question."
You look the other way losing interest.
”This would be so much easier if Joe was here.” He mutters under his breath.
He sighs, ”Look, let's have a little wager. You win, I'll answer all your questions. But if I win you have to answer all mine.”
You snort, ”A wager? Like what?”
”You look like a big guy, I’ll give you a chance. Arm wrestle for it?”
You look at him, he’s toned but not as big as you so agree to the wager.
You reach across the table and take his hand, he's got a very strong grip; the game is on. It's a tussle back and forth, although you get the impression that he isn’t putting much effort in.
Biting your lip, you can feel your face redden. You flip between looking at your hand and Frank. He’s focused, but then snaps his head round and stares directly into your eyes.
The corner of his mouth lifts and you see a sparkle in his eye, and then he slams your hand to the table with a crack.
You recover your hand rubbing it hard. You look up at him puzzled.
"Good, now why did they get fired? And wasn't he a friend of your brother Taylor as well?" He asks.
You feel obliged to answer even though it feels you’ve been tricked in some way.
”Yeah, that fucker Bickelmeir worked at Salopak with Harrison. They got fired for drinking at work; idiots! And yeah, Bickelmeir was friends with my brother!”
He’s watching you carefully, ”You know why Bickelmeir moved to Westside?”
”No I don’t,” You rest your head in your hands, wishing you knew the answer yourself, ”I have no fucking idea, they were tight; sometimes I just think Taylor's just going to walk around the corner with him.” You recognise these thoughts, deep from within Sean's memory-band and you start to understand what he’s feeling.
You hear Frank get up and leave, he says nothing.
After you've calmed down you return to the empty locker room and shower up.
~~~~~~
You find Sean in the stores at Salopak, tidying up, he looks annoyed, and just answers any questions you fire at him with one word replies.
”Heard about football practice I guess?” You surmise.
He bursts into life, ”You fucking idiot! That could have gone onto my record!”
You recognise the anger that is definitely coming from Sean, it just sounds strange coming from your old body.
”AND! You almost got me benched for the next game!”
”Well, in theory that would have been me..” you reply.
He snaps his head around at you, looking you in the eyes, ”Just don't get to comfortable Prescott.”
You try to clear the air by telling him that he's invited to a party tonight with Huber. He declines saying he's going to the movies with Umeko. Now it's your turn to feel annoyed.
”Don't forget we’ve still got those sacks of grave dirt back at the clubhouse. All we need are a few ingredients for the next spell.” You raise an eyebrow and nod towards the back of the stores.
Sean looks thoughtful, ”Maybe we don't need a key. Perhaps if we got one of them to open the door and we slap a mind-band on them, it would knock them out for a bit just like it did on me and we can get what we need.”
You smile, ”Devious. Do you have one by any chance?”
”Funny you should ask.” Sean grin’s waggling his eyebrows as he pulls one from his pocket.
You feel Sean's memory-band that you're wearing tug at you for a moment, it's telling you to be cautious and to plan it out, you pause for a moment.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author