It's always the best ones that weave instead of bobbing.
My Brother's Keeper
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
My Brother's Keeper
reading
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
My Brother's Keeper
What Makes You Tick
"Listen, if y'all don't think the Miami Heat about to run the NBA, that there sun probably got to you" Theo said, spinning in the barbershop until his face turned to the mirror in front of him. "That man LeBron can do no goddamn wrong, he's the nastiest nigga we've ever had."
"Wait a minute," retorted Rodney, folding the newspaper he had gripped in his hands although he hadn't read a word of it since he entered the shop. "You really going to be in the state of Florida and say that LeBron is the nastiest nigga we've ever had? Over D-Wade back in his early days?"
"Well, damn, it does quite seem like I'm saying that, now don't it?" Theo responded, his grin showing a golden tooth that looked weathered at best. Rodney sucked his teeth and shook his head before his sights were set on the guy sweeping up some foreign hair in the corner of the shop.
"Eh, kid, what do you think: D-Wade or King James?" he said pointedly, crossing his arms and awaiting the answer he was clearly looking for.
Tre stopped sweeping and moved the hood from his head. He shrugged and took a deep breath. "I mean, it seems as though D-Wade had always played second fiddle to somebody, whether it's been Bron or Shaq back in the day. There's a reason Bron has multiple MVP's and Flash doesn't." Theo snickered in gratitude for boosting his argument while Rodney sucked his teeth again and shook his head with attitude.
He had been working at Moe's Barbershop for the entirety of the summer to help offset some living costs. His hair had grown out in the last two years since Isaiah was killed and he had grown into a bigger, more mature body. He had just finished his junior year at St. Thomas Aquinas, quietly walking away with a decent GPA. It felt as though everything kind of turned onto autopilot since the shooting. Tre had turned into even more of a recluse, opting against sports and burying his nose into the books. The therapist he briefly saw said it was how he decided to deal with his grief. He didn't see it that way.
There was nothing here for him anymore. Any interest he had in any kind of social life in this city - hell, this state - was buried with his brother.
"Now, y'all better leave this youngin' alone, and quit the damn cussin' in my damn shop" called a voice from the back room, the door edging open and revealing an elderly black man with snow-white hair. He had a Nike visor in his hand, that he quickly popped on his head, probably to shield him from the ferocious Florida sun. He walked up to Tre, the 17-year old towering over the stout elderly man.
"How you feelin', young buck?" he asked, giving Tre the customary wise, old-man smile. It was gentle and warm, not the typical 'asking because its customary when entering a new room' gesture. Tre always appreciated Moe's attempts to make him feel like family; it was a nice dynamic change from when he was at home.
"Hanging in there Moe, how's the foot?" Tre responded, motioning to the ground. Moe had Diabetes, he said he's had it for years but as he's aged, his poor blood circulation had made the pain in his feet borderline unbearable. He barely walked anymore, moving into a slow, but steady shuffle.
"Well lucky for me, it's still attached to the ankle, so either way I'm thankful" he joked because continuing his slow movement to the front of the shop. He propped himself on his customary chair and stared out of the store window, watching as the people of Fort Lauderdale went about their Tuesday evening. Rodney and Theo continued their back and forth bickering, talking about how bad the Miami Marlins were doing, how many more championships the Heat would win, and finally made their way to football.
"Speaking of football, Tre, when are we going to see you on the field" Rodney spoke up, earning him a light shot to the ribs from Theo who was now seated adjacent to him. Moe sighed lightly, but loudly enough for Tre to hear him. Tre was chewing a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and merely shrugged.
Once he swallowed, he responded. "Not really my sport, don't think I'm really interested in picking it up" he rattled off, which had sort of been the customary answer for the multiple people he encountered that asked him about his athletic future. To tell the truth, Tre used to love football. He played Pop Warner and also inherited the athletic gifts that made his family well-known. However, he couldn't bring himself to try out for St. Thomas Aquinas, or even change schools. All that was left there were painful memories of what was, and what should still be around.
Unbeknownst to Tre, Moe had lifted from his nearby seat and came over to pat Tre on the back, nodding with his head to join him to come outside of the shop. Once they made their way outside, there was a brief silence as they stared at the setting sun. It was one of Tre's favorite times of day - the sheer beauty was enough to relax his usually chaotic mind.
"You know what you said in there was a bunch of bull-spit right?" the old man finally spoke up. Moe usually tried to avoid cursing when he could. His late wife, Belinda, was a church-going woman, he would explain. There would be no swearing when he was around was one of the first lessons Tre met when he began working in the shop that he had gotten his hair cut since he was a young child.
"What do you mean?" Tre asked, already having an inkling of what Moe was angling at. He honestly wasn't sure if he was ready to have such a conversation, but disrespecting Moe wasn't an option. He was like a father figure to him, and if there was one person he had the utmost respect for, it was him. He treated him like a human being - not a piece of shattered glass that had to be tip-toed around.
"Football, you're going to end up playing, and you're going to be damn good at it too," he stated. Tre was slightly taken aback. He at least thought Moe would ease his way into the topic, rather than apparently diving right in.
“My father would lose his mind, Moe” Tre pleaded, shuddering at the thought of even bringing up the topic to him. Moe shook his head wildly.
“Your father is lost, and we all understand why, Tre. But, you have an opportunity to fix all this by being great in your own right. Giving your father a reason to live, and honoring your brother” Moe responded, staring intensely into Tre’s eyes. Tre paused for a moment, mulling it over. Every fibre in his body wanted to agree with Moe, but something was holding him back.
At that moment, Moe gingerly rubbed Tre’s shoulder, pulling him back out from his thoughts. “You have so much to give not only your family, or this community, but the rest of the world. Let this pain go and go back to what you love. It’s time for you to live again, Tre.”
Tre smiled weakly at the man and shook his hand, before making his way home, promising to keep the hood off his head as he started the 25-minute trek to get home. Ever since the whole Trayvon Martin thing happened, people of color were even more on edge than usual.
He was alone with his thoughts for the entire walk, considering everything that he had gone through since Isaiah died. This was his last summer being a High School student, his last opportunity to play football without strings attached. Maybe, he should consider it.
He walked up to the stoop and braced himself before he put the key in the door and unlocked it. He heard the faint sound of an old football game on the television in the living room, making his way there and finding an all-too familiar sight.
Beer cans galore and his father, too drunk to function, passed out at the sight of one of Isaiah’s old tapes - this one from his sophomore year when he started to take off. His father coped with his grief by entering a bottle he couldn’t dream to get out of on his own.
Tre couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of his brother, full of life hauling his ass down the field for one of his many touchdowns he had probably seen hundreds of times. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes briefly, before opening them back out with an intensity he had long thought had been drained from his body.
“I got us, Isaiah, don’t you worry.”
"Listen, if y'all don't think the Miami Heat about to run the NBA, that there sun probably got to you" Theo said, spinning in the barbershop until his face turned to the mirror in front of him. "That man LeBron can do no goddamn wrong, he's the nastiest nigga we've ever had."
"Wait a minute," retorted Rodney, folding the newspaper he had gripped in his hands although he hadn't read a word of it since he entered the shop. "You really going to be in the state of Florida and say that LeBron is the nastiest nigga we've ever had? Over D-Wade back in his early days?"
"Well, damn, it does quite seem like I'm saying that, now don't it?" Theo responded, his grin showing a golden tooth that looked weathered at best. Rodney sucked his teeth and shook his head before his sights were set on the guy sweeping up some foreign hair in the corner of the shop.
"Eh, kid, what do you think: D-Wade or King James?" he said pointedly, crossing his arms and awaiting the answer he was clearly looking for.
Tre stopped sweeping and moved the hood from his head. He shrugged and took a deep breath. "I mean, it seems as though D-Wade had always played second fiddle to somebody, whether it's been Bron or Shaq back in the day. There's a reason Bron has multiple MVP's and Flash doesn't." Theo snickered in gratitude for boosting his argument while Rodney sucked his teeth again and shook his head with attitude.
He had been working at Moe's Barbershop for the entirety of the summer to help offset some living costs. His hair had grown out in the last two years since Isaiah was killed and he had grown into a bigger, more mature body. He had just finished his junior year at St. Thomas Aquinas, quietly walking away with a decent GPA. It felt as though everything kind of turned onto autopilot since the shooting. Tre had turned into even more of a recluse, opting against sports and burying his nose into the books. The therapist he briefly saw said it was how he decided to deal with his grief. He didn't see it that way.
There was nothing here for him anymore. Any interest he had in any kind of social life in this city - hell, this state - was buried with his brother.
"Now, y'all better leave this youngin' alone, and quit the damn cussin' in my damn shop" called a voice from the back room, the door edging open and revealing an elderly black man with snow-white hair. He had a Nike visor in his hand, that he quickly popped on his head, probably to shield him from the ferocious Florida sun. He walked up to Tre, the 17-year old towering over the stout elderly man.
"How you feelin', young buck?" he asked, giving Tre the customary wise, old-man smile. It was gentle and warm, not the typical 'asking because its customary when entering a new room' gesture. Tre always appreciated Moe's attempts to make him feel like family; it was a nice dynamic change from when he was at home.
"Hanging in there Moe, how's the foot?" Tre responded, motioning to the ground. Moe had Diabetes, he said he's had it for years but as he's aged, his poor blood circulation had made the pain in his feet borderline unbearable. He barely walked anymore, moving into a slow, but steady shuffle.
"Well lucky for me, it's still attached to the ankle, so either way I'm thankful" he joked because continuing his slow movement to the front of the shop. He propped himself on his customary chair and stared out of the store window, watching as the people of Fort Lauderdale went about their Tuesday evening. Rodney and Theo continued their back and forth bickering, talking about how bad the Miami Marlins were doing, how many more championships the Heat would win, and finally made their way to football.
"Speaking of football, Tre, when are we going to see you on the field" Rodney spoke up, earning him a light shot to the ribs from Theo who was now seated adjacent to him. Moe sighed lightly, but loudly enough for Tre to hear him. Tre was chewing a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and merely shrugged.
Once he swallowed, he responded. "Not really my sport, don't think I'm really interested in picking it up" he rattled off, which had sort of been the customary answer for the multiple people he encountered that asked him about his athletic future. To tell the truth, Tre used to love football. He played Pop Warner and also inherited the athletic gifts that made his family well-known. However, he couldn't bring himself to try out for St. Thomas Aquinas, or even change schools. All that was left there were painful memories of what was, and what should still be around.
Unbeknownst to Tre, Moe had lifted from his nearby seat and came over to pat Tre on the back, nodding with his head to join him to come outside of the shop. Once they made their way outside, there was a brief silence as they stared at the setting sun. It was one of Tre's favorite times of day - the sheer beauty was enough to relax his usually chaotic mind.
"You know what you said in there was a bunch of bull-spit right?" the old man finally spoke up. Moe usually tried to avoid cursing when he could. His late wife, Belinda, was a church-going woman, he would explain. There would be no swearing when he was around was one of the first lessons Tre met when he began working in the shop that he had gotten his hair cut since he was a young child.
"What do you mean?" Tre asked, already having an inkling of what Moe was angling at. He honestly wasn't sure if he was ready to have such a conversation, but disrespecting Moe wasn't an option. He was like a father figure to him, and if there was one person he had the utmost respect for, it was him. He treated him like a human being - not a piece of shattered glass that had to be tip-toed around.
"Football, you're going to end up playing, and you're going to be damn good at it too," he stated. Tre was slightly taken aback. He at least thought Moe would ease his way into the topic, rather than apparently diving right in.
“My father would lose his mind, Moe” Tre pleaded, shuddering at the thought of even bringing up the topic to him. Moe shook his head wildly.
“Your father is lost, and we all understand why, Tre. But, you have an opportunity to fix all this by being great in your own right. Giving your father a reason to live, and honoring your brother” Moe responded, staring intensely into Tre’s eyes. Tre paused for a moment, mulling it over. Every fibre in his body wanted to agree with Moe, but something was holding him back.
At that moment, Moe gingerly rubbed Tre’s shoulder, pulling him back out from his thoughts. “You have so much to give not only your family, or this community, but the rest of the world. Let this pain go and go back to what you love. It’s time for you to live again, Tre.”
Tre smiled weakly at the man and shook his hand, before making his way home, promising to keep the hood off his head as he started the 25-minute trek to get home. Ever since the whole Trayvon Martin thing happened, people of color were even more on edge than usual.
He was alone with his thoughts for the entire walk, considering everything that he had gone through since Isaiah died. This was his last summer being a High School student, his last opportunity to play football without strings attached. Maybe, he should consider it.
He walked up to the stoop and braced himself before he put the key in the door and unlocked it. He heard the faint sound of an old football game on the television in the living room, making his way there and finding an all-too familiar sight.
Beer cans galore and his father, too drunk to function, passed out at the sight of one of Isaiah’s old tapes - this one from his sophomore year when he started to take off. His father coped with his grief by entering a bottle he couldn’t dream to get out of on his own.
Tre couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of his brother, full of life hauling his ass down the field for one of his many touchdowns he had probably seen hundreds of times. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes briefly, before opening them back out with an intensity he had long thought had been drained from his body.
“I got us, Isaiah, don’t you worry.”
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
My Brother's Keeper
Set Your Feet and Let It Rip
“Just breathe, Tre, just keep breathing” Tre continuously thought to himself as he approached the insanely large group of kids on the St. Thomas Aquinas football field.
Summer was in full bloom and it amazing to know there were plenty of players who were still away on vacation. Training camp was still a few weeks away but they held a few camps to get some new players acquainted.
New players like Tre.
Moe had bothered him at least three or four more times after their deep heart-to-heart about going out for the team, and for the most part, Tre had respectfully declined. Until he woke up this morning, found himself fishing out his old cleats that had to be at least one or two sizes too small and made his way over.
For the most part, the people attending were more concerned with getting themselves outfitted and meeting up with friends they haven't seen since the conclusion of the previous school year. However, Tre would be ignorant to see that there weren’t people who acknowledged that the fallen superstar Isaiah Morgan’s younger brother had finally climbed from the abyss to meet his maker.
He walked up to a younger coach he didn’t recognize when coming around the football team while Isaiah was playing. He had his nose in a clipboard and didn’t even look up as the players approached. Tre figured this was where he had to be to register his name.
“Name?” the man asked, flipping through the pages on the clipboard without looking up as Tre finally made his way to the front of the line.
“Uhh...Tre Morgan” he responded nervously. This prompted the younger man to dart his head up and remove his aviator glasses to get a better look.
“Morgan, like Isaiah’s baby brother?” he asked excitedly, a grin quickly growing onto his face. Tre could feel the anguish and anxiety building up, bubbling in his stomach.
“Wouldn’t say baby, but he was my brother, yes” Tre answered, feeling a bead of sweat trickling from his hairline to his brow. He truly didn’t deal with the anxiety of football well. He started to feel overwhelmed and he hadn’t even picked up the pigskin yet.
“Well holy fuck,” he began, quickly covering his mouth and waving his hands in apologies. “My bad for the swearing, still getting used to the professionalism of being a coach. My name is Cedric Davis, I was your brother’s teammate. Quarterback.” He shook my hand wildly, and as I looked on, I realized I did recognize him. He would have graduated two years ago and had definitely put on a Freshman 15.
“So,” he continued, peaking back at his clipboard. “I see you’ve never played here before, what position you thinking of taking up, please tell me running back” he asked, his energy clearly higher with Tre than any of the other players he had previously spoken to.
“I was thinking Quarterback, I’ve never really been into the whole running back thing” Tre answered, much to Cedric’s surprise.
“QB, huh? My guy” he answered, scribbling it on his clipboard before dapping Tre up. He pointed to the far side of the field. “The offense is going to group up over at that side of the field, start stretching and all that jazz. Man, it’s good to see you, Tre” he patted him on the shoulder before moving on to the long line of players behind him.
Tre made his way to the large group of offensive players, being sectioned off based on their assumed positions. The bigger guys were obviously offensive linemen and the guys twirling the ball in the hands were where Tre landed - the quarterbacks.
There were about five of them, but only one that he could readily identify - Nathan Masters. Even his name screamed ‘superiority complex’. He had been low on the depth chart when his brother had been playing, and spent years stuck behind the likes of Cedric. He had most definitely bulked up and improved his skillset, and with that, his confidence had skyrocketed.
He took a quick glance over at Nathan, who was staring daggers at him. Once he caught Tre’s eyes on him, he smirked and averted his stares. Tre meekly shook his head and focused in on the instructions being handed down.
They separated the quarterbacks in two groups of three to throw routes for what felt like a million receivers. Each quarterback would take turns, and obviously, Nathan was grouped with Tre, along with a little guy who had to have been a freshman.
Nathan opted to go first, running his hand through his golden, surfer-boy like hair before snapping the ball. His drop-back was lazy and when he stepped up in the virtual pocket, he launched the ball at the freshman receiver that had ran a five-yard hitch route. The ball rocketed off his chest and fumbled embarrassingly onto the turf.
“Take a little bit off it, Nate, we know you can throw” one of the coaches called out as Tre made his way to the front of the line. Passing by Nate, he heard him suck his teeth and watched his shake his head.
“Fucking rookies should learn how to catch the fucking ball” he mumbled to himself, already fed up. Tre shook the thought of his mind and took a quick glance at the receiver getting in his stance. Another freshman.
“SET, HUT!” Tre bellowed out, dropping back three steps, bounding on his final one and using the torque of his hips to get his strength, unlike Nathan, who threw with pure power. The beauty of the spiral he threw was impeccable, sliding perfectly into the receiver’s hands as he turned up field.
“Good stuff, QB” the same coach shouted out as Tre made his way back to the group. The young freshman patted him on the back as he made his way for his turn. Nathan was gripping the ball with a little bit of unnecessary force and didn’t dare make a comment, simply shaking his head and looking off into the distance.
The next few routes went the same way; Nathan throwing with a little too much strength, only the older receivers who had no doubt gotten more used to his throwing power making the receptions, Tre letting up a bit and focusing more on technique and completions than showing off his arm, and the third quarterback, whose name turned out to be Samuel, underthrowing quite a bit but getting better as time went on.
Cedric had came over as soon as registration had been completed and watched the quarterbacks be put through a multitude of drills. Tre excelled, however feeling insanely behind in terms of terminology and being out-of-shape. However, he easily had something that neither Nathan or the other quarterbacks had - insane speed.
“Well damn, Nate, can you do that?” Cedric said as he walked up behind Nathan, watching as Tre took off down the field and just blowing by the secondary as they tried to keep up.
“I don’t need that shit, I can fuckin’ throw” he responded, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, like Brett Favre. You might hit your target, but chances are just as good that you’ll throw through them” Cedric shrugged. Nathan spat on the ground and shook his head yet again, this time Tre was making his way back over.
“Just remind yourself that this is just a warm-up, dude” Nathan called out at Tre, who had taken a knee to catch his breath. He looked up and saw Nathan wearing his signature smirk and Cedric clasping his face into his head.
“And I dominated you, wonder how bad training camp is going to look for you” Tre didn’t even miss a beat, gaining some ooo’s and aaa’s from the crowd that was within earshot of his retort.
Looks like Tre had a battle on his hands. He just hoped he had enough in him to handle it.
“Just breathe, Tre, just keep breathing” Tre continuously thought to himself as he approached the insanely large group of kids on the St. Thomas Aquinas football field.
Summer was in full bloom and it amazing to know there were plenty of players who were still away on vacation. Training camp was still a few weeks away but they held a few camps to get some new players acquainted.
New players like Tre.
Moe had bothered him at least three or four more times after their deep heart-to-heart about going out for the team, and for the most part, Tre had respectfully declined. Until he woke up this morning, found himself fishing out his old cleats that had to be at least one or two sizes too small and made his way over.
For the most part, the people attending were more concerned with getting themselves outfitted and meeting up with friends they haven't seen since the conclusion of the previous school year. However, Tre would be ignorant to see that there weren’t people who acknowledged that the fallen superstar Isaiah Morgan’s younger brother had finally climbed from the abyss to meet his maker.
He walked up to a younger coach he didn’t recognize when coming around the football team while Isaiah was playing. He had his nose in a clipboard and didn’t even look up as the players approached. Tre figured this was where he had to be to register his name.
“Name?” the man asked, flipping through the pages on the clipboard without looking up as Tre finally made his way to the front of the line.
“Uhh...Tre Morgan” he responded nervously. This prompted the younger man to dart his head up and remove his aviator glasses to get a better look.
“Morgan, like Isaiah’s baby brother?” he asked excitedly, a grin quickly growing onto his face. Tre could feel the anguish and anxiety building up, bubbling in his stomach.
“Wouldn’t say baby, but he was my brother, yes” Tre answered, feeling a bead of sweat trickling from his hairline to his brow. He truly didn’t deal with the anxiety of football well. He started to feel overwhelmed and he hadn’t even picked up the pigskin yet.
“Well holy fuck,” he began, quickly covering his mouth and waving his hands in apologies. “My bad for the swearing, still getting used to the professionalism of being a coach. My name is Cedric Davis, I was your brother’s teammate. Quarterback.” He shook my hand wildly, and as I looked on, I realized I did recognize him. He would have graduated two years ago and had definitely put on a Freshman 15.
“So,” he continued, peaking back at his clipboard. “I see you’ve never played here before, what position you thinking of taking up, please tell me running back” he asked, his energy clearly higher with Tre than any of the other players he had previously spoken to.
“I was thinking Quarterback, I’ve never really been into the whole running back thing” Tre answered, much to Cedric’s surprise.
“QB, huh? My guy” he answered, scribbling it on his clipboard before dapping Tre up. He pointed to the far side of the field. “The offense is going to group up over at that side of the field, start stretching and all that jazz. Man, it’s good to see you, Tre” he patted him on the shoulder before moving on to the long line of players behind him.
Tre made his way to the large group of offensive players, being sectioned off based on their assumed positions. The bigger guys were obviously offensive linemen and the guys twirling the ball in the hands were where Tre landed - the quarterbacks.
There were about five of them, but only one that he could readily identify - Nathan Masters. Even his name screamed ‘superiority complex’. He had been low on the depth chart when his brother had been playing, and spent years stuck behind the likes of Cedric. He had most definitely bulked up and improved his skillset, and with that, his confidence had skyrocketed.
He took a quick glance over at Nathan, who was staring daggers at him. Once he caught Tre’s eyes on him, he smirked and averted his stares. Tre meekly shook his head and focused in on the instructions being handed down.
They separated the quarterbacks in two groups of three to throw routes for what felt like a million receivers. Each quarterback would take turns, and obviously, Nathan was grouped with Tre, along with a little guy who had to have been a freshman.
Nathan opted to go first, running his hand through his golden, surfer-boy like hair before snapping the ball. His drop-back was lazy and when he stepped up in the virtual pocket, he launched the ball at the freshman receiver that had ran a five-yard hitch route. The ball rocketed off his chest and fumbled embarrassingly onto the turf.
“Take a little bit off it, Nate, we know you can throw” one of the coaches called out as Tre made his way to the front of the line. Passing by Nate, he heard him suck his teeth and watched his shake his head.
“Fucking rookies should learn how to catch the fucking ball” he mumbled to himself, already fed up. Tre shook the thought of his mind and took a quick glance at the receiver getting in his stance. Another freshman.
“SET, HUT!” Tre bellowed out, dropping back three steps, bounding on his final one and using the torque of his hips to get his strength, unlike Nathan, who threw with pure power. The beauty of the spiral he threw was impeccable, sliding perfectly into the receiver’s hands as he turned up field.
“Good stuff, QB” the same coach shouted out as Tre made his way back to the group. The young freshman patted him on the back as he made his way for his turn. Nathan was gripping the ball with a little bit of unnecessary force and didn’t dare make a comment, simply shaking his head and looking off into the distance.
The next few routes went the same way; Nathan throwing with a little too much strength, only the older receivers who had no doubt gotten more used to his throwing power making the receptions, Tre letting up a bit and focusing more on technique and completions than showing off his arm, and the third quarterback, whose name turned out to be Samuel, underthrowing quite a bit but getting better as time went on.
Cedric had came over as soon as registration had been completed and watched the quarterbacks be put through a multitude of drills. Tre excelled, however feeling insanely behind in terms of terminology and being out-of-shape. However, he easily had something that neither Nathan or the other quarterbacks had - insane speed.
“Well damn, Nate, can you do that?” Cedric said as he walked up behind Nathan, watching as Tre took off down the field and just blowing by the secondary as they tried to keep up.
“I don’t need that shit, I can fuckin’ throw” he responded, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, like Brett Favre. You might hit your target, but chances are just as good that you’ll throw through them” Cedric shrugged. Nathan spat on the ground and shook his head yet again, this time Tre was making his way back over.
“Just remind yourself that this is just a warm-up, dude” Nathan called out at Tre, who had taken a knee to catch his breath. He looked up and saw Nathan wearing his signature smirk and Cedric clasping his face into his head.
“And I dominated you, wonder how bad training camp is going to look for you” Tre didn’t even miss a beat, gaining some ooo’s and aaa’s from the crowd that was within earshot of his retort.
Looks like Tre had a battle on his hands. He just hoped he had enough in him to handle it.
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
My Brother's Keeper
Healthy Competition
“This one dedicated to the dope boys
Price so low I'm at a loss for words
I know you nigga heard I got them Georgia birds
23 5 Nigga spread the word”
Tre had just finished fumbling his brother’s old clear visor into his football helmet when the coach called the players out for the first day of training camp. He removed his earpods, fumbled them into his backpack and locked the locker he would have for the remainder of summer until the school year officially started.
He had spent the last few weeks splitting what felt like all of his time working at Moe’s barbershop, working out, and attending any football camps or workouts the school felt like hosting.
He could already feel himself adapting to football culture again; that hunger to be the best, although set deep within himself, was there again. A deep fire that couldn’t quite be put out. Isaiah had said it best - there’s no point in being here if you’re not here to takeover.
And takeover, he would.
His biggest competition for the starting competition spot would be Nathan. He was established, next-in-line for the starting gig, and was well-versed and familiar with the coaching staff. All the other quarterbacks - two, to be exact - were underclassmen who clearly were deer in headlights.
Tre wasn’t too prepared to feel confident. Although he had put on a throwing clinic at the past couple of workouts, he still wasn’t anywhere close to where he needed to be mentally. He could throw, and he could more or less read a defense, but he was a passer for now; not quite a quarterback.
Making his way onto the field, the players were much more scarce it felt than the past summer workouts. Clearly, some had been scared off from the competition, others had been recommended by coaches to perhaps take up another sport, maybe band. However, he could tell already that the real ballers had arrived.
Standing at a whopping 6 foot 6, Reggie Parrish was the biggest draw for St. Thomas Aquinas. He had been a freshman growing into his lanky frame when Isaiah had last been playing with the Raiders, and grew into it he did. He was now a sure-fire 5-star prospect that had already drawn letters of interest from Power Five schools like Georgia and Clemson. He was clearly a man amongst boys.
Another big draw was Thomas Robinson, a burly beast of a man that played left tackle. He almost rivalled Reggie’s height, standing at 6’5, but weighed much heavier at close to 300 pounds. He had some of the quickest feet and was extremely mobile for an offensive lineman. If Tre could will himself into the starting spot, it would be Thomas he would thank for keeping him clean every game.
“Would you look at this, the lightskin is back” Nathan echoed out, quickly gaining the crowds attention and moving it to the approaching Tre. Tre simply shook his head and begun joining the team in their team stretch.
“Am I the only one who feels like that sentence had some racial connotations in it?” Reggie joked from another line, nodding his head at Tre when he looked over.
“And what the fuck is wrong with lightskins, white boy?” another receiver, notably of mixed race, asked from behind Reggie.
“How about you focus on what’s wrong with you, and catch a fucking ball first, Chris” Nathan spat at him, barely focusing on the stretch while he was too busy running his mouth.
Tre opted to just keep his head in the game, and his mouth shut. Joining in on the banter wasn’t his style; he would much rather show what he’s got on the field.
The team grouped up to be addressed by Coach Harriott, but before he had finished disassembling from his discussions with the other coaches, Reggie came up next to Tre and nudged him.
“I don’t know how much this will really mean, brother, but I’m really sorry for what happened to Zay, it’s a cold world” he spoke gently. Tre simply nodded, a little overcome and trying to push the emotions that inevitably came up whenever anyone spoke his brother’s name back down.
“And to be honest, I’m praying you win this competition; someone needs to humble that white boy once and for all” he smirked, before straightening up as Coach Harriott approached. Tre shook his head and smiled to himself, appreciating the vote of confidence.
“Alright, listen up gentlemen. We have a long road to success ahead of us, and we’re going to treat this upcoming season with all the respect it deserves. We’re taking the best that can play right now. We don’t have time for rebuilds, retools, any of that bullshit. If you can ball, you’ll get the call. Are we ready to work and focus in?” Coach Harriott proclaimed, his booming voice the only thing that can be heard amongst the crowd that had to be at least 80 deep.
The players erupted in a unified agreement before multiple whistles went off. “Alright, then! Don’t disappoint me, offense you’re going to the left, defense, you’re on the right. Let’s get going.”
Tre pulled on his pads one more time before jogging with the group towards the left. The anxiety crept up and he couldn’t tell if he was sweating because it was summer in Fort Lauderdale or because of the dread that was creeping in. He needed to push it down; if there was one position that didn’t have time to hesitate, it was quarterback.
“Aye, bro, we both lightskin, so we automatically got that connection, get me that rock” Chris motioned up beside him and patted him on the helmet. Tre smirked nervously and shook his head.
“If you get open, I gotchu” Tre said, putting on more of an act of confidence than he was currently feeling. Chris began clapping his hands forcefully, hyping himself up.
“Say no more, Partna’, you know I stay like a 7/11” he bellowed out. Tre furrowed his brows in confusion.
“7/11?”
“Because I stay open at all hours, my G. Let’s get it crackin’, brodie”.
Training camp was finally underway. Tre was damn glad to be back.
“This one dedicated to the dope boys
Price so low I'm at a loss for words
I know you nigga heard I got them Georgia birds
23 5 Nigga spread the word”
Tre had just finished fumbling his brother’s old clear visor into his football helmet when the coach called the players out for the first day of training camp. He removed his earpods, fumbled them into his backpack and locked the locker he would have for the remainder of summer until the school year officially started.
He had spent the last few weeks splitting what felt like all of his time working at Moe’s barbershop, working out, and attending any football camps or workouts the school felt like hosting.
He could already feel himself adapting to football culture again; that hunger to be the best, although set deep within himself, was there again. A deep fire that couldn’t quite be put out. Isaiah had said it best - there’s no point in being here if you’re not here to takeover.
And takeover, he would.
His biggest competition for the starting competition spot would be Nathan. He was established, next-in-line for the starting gig, and was well-versed and familiar with the coaching staff. All the other quarterbacks - two, to be exact - were underclassmen who clearly were deer in headlights.
Tre wasn’t too prepared to feel confident. Although he had put on a throwing clinic at the past couple of workouts, he still wasn’t anywhere close to where he needed to be mentally. He could throw, and he could more or less read a defense, but he was a passer for now; not quite a quarterback.
Making his way onto the field, the players were much more scarce it felt than the past summer workouts. Clearly, some had been scared off from the competition, others had been recommended by coaches to perhaps take up another sport, maybe band. However, he could tell already that the real ballers had arrived.
Standing at a whopping 6 foot 6, Reggie Parrish was the biggest draw for St. Thomas Aquinas. He had been a freshman growing into his lanky frame when Isaiah had last been playing with the Raiders, and grew into it he did. He was now a sure-fire 5-star prospect that had already drawn letters of interest from Power Five schools like Georgia and Clemson. He was clearly a man amongst boys.
Another big draw was Thomas Robinson, a burly beast of a man that played left tackle. He almost rivalled Reggie’s height, standing at 6’5, but weighed much heavier at close to 300 pounds. He had some of the quickest feet and was extremely mobile for an offensive lineman. If Tre could will himself into the starting spot, it would be Thomas he would thank for keeping him clean every game.
“Would you look at this, the lightskin is back” Nathan echoed out, quickly gaining the crowds attention and moving it to the approaching Tre. Tre simply shook his head and begun joining the team in their team stretch.
“Am I the only one who feels like that sentence had some racial connotations in it?” Reggie joked from another line, nodding his head at Tre when he looked over.
“And what the fuck is wrong with lightskins, white boy?” another receiver, notably of mixed race, asked from behind Reggie.
“How about you focus on what’s wrong with you, and catch a fucking ball first, Chris” Nathan spat at him, barely focusing on the stretch while he was too busy running his mouth.
Tre opted to just keep his head in the game, and his mouth shut. Joining in on the banter wasn’t his style; he would much rather show what he’s got on the field.
The team grouped up to be addressed by Coach Harriott, but before he had finished disassembling from his discussions with the other coaches, Reggie came up next to Tre and nudged him.
“I don’t know how much this will really mean, brother, but I’m really sorry for what happened to Zay, it’s a cold world” he spoke gently. Tre simply nodded, a little overcome and trying to push the emotions that inevitably came up whenever anyone spoke his brother’s name back down.
“And to be honest, I’m praying you win this competition; someone needs to humble that white boy once and for all” he smirked, before straightening up as Coach Harriott approached. Tre shook his head and smiled to himself, appreciating the vote of confidence.
“Alright, listen up gentlemen. We have a long road to success ahead of us, and we’re going to treat this upcoming season with all the respect it deserves. We’re taking the best that can play right now. We don’t have time for rebuilds, retools, any of that bullshit. If you can ball, you’ll get the call. Are we ready to work and focus in?” Coach Harriott proclaimed, his booming voice the only thing that can be heard amongst the crowd that had to be at least 80 deep.
The players erupted in a unified agreement before multiple whistles went off. “Alright, then! Don’t disappoint me, offense you’re going to the left, defense, you’re on the right. Let’s get going.”
Tre pulled on his pads one more time before jogging with the group towards the left. The anxiety crept up and he couldn’t tell if he was sweating because it was summer in Fort Lauderdale or because of the dread that was creeping in. He needed to push it down; if there was one position that didn’t have time to hesitate, it was quarterback.
“Aye, bro, we both lightskin, so we automatically got that connection, get me that rock” Chris motioned up beside him and patted him on the helmet. Tre smirked nervously and shook his head.
“If you get open, I gotchu” Tre said, putting on more of an act of confidence than he was currently feeling. Chris began clapping his hands forcefully, hyping himself up.
“Say no more, Partna’, you know I stay like a 7/11” he bellowed out. Tre furrowed his brows in confusion.
“7/11?”
“Because I stay open at all hours, my G. Let’s get it crackin’, brodie”.
Training camp was finally underway. Tre was damn glad to be back.
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
My Brother's Keeper
Lost & Found
Darnell Morgan slowly cracked his eyes open as the sounds of birds singing pierced through his open bedroom window. The radiating pain running through his head was only matched by the nauseating rumble that rolled through his stomach.
He carefully pulled himself into a seated position and rubbed his temples. “Clearly the sign of a long night, huh” he thought to himself, kicking an empty beer can as his feet made contact with the cluttered floor.
He swept through his bedroom looking for the remote to turn the television off, wanting to rest the screen after a long night of screaming at the unconsciously drunk man. He stared at the screen for a moment as his hand made contact with the plastic.
There was his eldest son - his baby boy - smiling next a small, blonde reporter after one of his many successful outings as the star running-back of St. Thomas Aquinas. That was a great night; him, Isaiah, and Tre had returned home and whipped up some breakfast for dinner and enjoyed a nice night.
But, there had been no more nice nights since then. Only nightmares that not even the bottom of the bottle could defeat. His baby boy was gone. And he was never coming back.
Darnell shook the thought from his mind and grabbed the bottle that rested forgotten on his nightstand, filled with a little bit of liquid that, at this point, he couldn’t even readily identify. No matter, he assured himself that it would at least take the edge off. He slugged it back, ran his hand over his balding head, and raised himself to his feet.
He wandered into the nearby bathroom, preparing to take a quick shower to rid his body of the smell of whiskey, or whatever liquor he had opted for the past night when he heard rustling in the living room. He walked over and peeked his head into the room.
“What the fuck are you doing up so early?” he asked, his voice a raspy mess. It hurt a bit; apparently he had inevitably done some yelling in the last while.
Tre was startled, trying to wrestle his empty bowl of cereal into the sink that was already flooding with unclean dishes. He pulled his gym bag strap over his shoulder and tried to make his way past his father towards the front door.
Darnell pulled on him and looked his youngest son in the eyes. The look of resentment and confusion donned Tre’s face before he simply shook his head.
“It’s not early, it’s like 7 in the morning, I’m going to school” Tre whipped himself out of his father’s grasp and walked out of the front door. Darnell watched him make his way down the street and ran his hand over his face, as if he could wipe the sluggish feeling away. He looked into the kitchen and found a few unopened cans of beer.
“Guess I’m taking a maintenance day.”
---
If Tre had thought he was nervous on his first day of summer workouts, finally getting back on the field, it was child’s play compared to his first day of training camp. However, nothing could compare to the dreaded first day of school.
For most, it meant picking out your freshest outfit the night before; shoes that had never even left the box and jeans that had just had the stickers pulled off of them.
But not for Tre.
It was forced social interactions, unfortunate glances from school staff, and the mad scramble to figure out which classes he had when and where in this God-forsaken building they were located. Even as a senior, things had never changed.
The front of the school was mostly absent of people as Tre had taken a longer route to school to pass by Moe’s and pick up his paycheck. He wasn’t quite running late, but he was most definitely no stranger to tardiness. Nonetheless, he turned up his music and walked through the front doors.
“I’m grindin’, I’m grindin’, I’m grindin’ I promise
I fuck her until I get tired, retire and then come out retirement
My girl like it rough she said “find me a diamond”
Her body be grindin’”
Lil Wayne’s unique voice rattled through Tre’s voice as he accessed the lock combination and began piling some of his things within. Unlike most of the other students, he was luckily able to get access to his before the beginning of school because of football practice.
All of a sudden, he felt a quaint little tap on his shoulder, and turned around to find a breathtaking sight.
Her blonde locks were draped all over her shoulders, mixed in with some lighter highlights but what caught Tre so off guard were her bursting blue eyes that just reeled him in. She smiled shyly before mouthing something. Tre couldn’t quite make it out, before realizing he was still getting an earful of Weezy and not this stunner.
“The feds be spying on all of us nigga
These hoes be lying to all of us nigga
I got news for the monogamous niggas
Yo' bitch fucking anonymous niggas”
He quickly removed his headphones and she nervously chuckled at his obvious embarrassment.
“Don’t worry about it, I don’t think I said anything too too important” she gave him a sweet smile that he returned weakly. Tre never had too much experience interacting with other people in general. It got worse after Isaiah passed away. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had an extended conversation with a woman.
“I’m Tre” he said shyly, barely above a whisper. She could tell he wasn’t doing his greatest, her smile grew even wider.
“And unfortunately, I’m running very late, do you know where C305 is? I can’t figure this school out for the life of me” she asked, looking around the floor wildly. She must have been a new student transferring in.
“Take those doors, and take the staircase two levels up, it should be just outside of the doors you’ll find” he answered with a frog in his voice. It took until the end of his sentence to realize how groggy he sounded, as he quickly made it a point to clear his voice.
“You’re a lifesaver, Tre. I’ll make sure to come find you at some point” she touched his arm gently before speed-walking off and through the doors as he instructed. He took a deep breath, realizing he had barely been doing so as soon as she made physical contact with him. He shook himself out of his brief stuper to realize that if she was running late, he was most definitely going to be late.
He shut his locker and began sprinting in the direction of his first class, hoping to see mystery girl sooner rather than later.
Hopefully, he would remember the English language more indepthly when they would meet again.
Darnell Morgan slowly cracked his eyes open as the sounds of birds singing pierced through his open bedroom window. The radiating pain running through his head was only matched by the nauseating rumble that rolled through his stomach.
He carefully pulled himself into a seated position and rubbed his temples. “Clearly the sign of a long night, huh” he thought to himself, kicking an empty beer can as his feet made contact with the cluttered floor.
He swept through his bedroom looking for the remote to turn the television off, wanting to rest the screen after a long night of screaming at the unconsciously drunk man. He stared at the screen for a moment as his hand made contact with the plastic.
There was his eldest son - his baby boy - smiling next a small, blonde reporter after one of his many successful outings as the star running-back of St. Thomas Aquinas. That was a great night; him, Isaiah, and Tre had returned home and whipped up some breakfast for dinner and enjoyed a nice night.
But, there had been no more nice nights since then. Only nightmares that not even the bottom of the bottle could defeat. His baby boy was gone. And he was never coming back.
Darnell shook the thought from his mind and grabbed the bottle that rested forgotten on his nightstand, filled with a little bit of liquid that, at this point, he couldn’t even readily identify. No matter, he assured himself that it would at least take the edge off. He slugged it back, ran his hand over his balding head, and raised himself to his feet.
He wandered into the nearby bathroom, preparing to take a quick shower to rid his body of the smell of whiskey, or whatever liquor he had opted for the past night when he heard rustling in the living room. He walked over and peeked his head into the room.
“What the fuck are you doing up so early?” he asked, his voice a raspy mess. It hurt a bit; apparently he had inevitably done some yelling in the last while.
Tre was startled, trying to wrestle his empty bowl of cereal into the sink that was already flooding with unclean dishes. He pulled his gym bag strap over his shoulder and tried to make his way past his father towards the front door.
Darnell pulled on him and looked his youngest son in the eyes. The look of resentment and confusion donned Tre’s face before he simply shook his head.
“It’s not early, it’s like 7 in the morning, I’m going to school” Tre whipped himself out of his father’s grasp and walked out of the front door. Darnell watched him make his way down the street and ran his hand over his face, as if he could wipe the sluggish feeling away. He looked into the kitchen and found a few unopened cans of beer.
“Guess I’m taking a maintenance day.”
---
If Tre had thought he was nervous on his first day of summer workouts, finally getting back on the field, it was child’s play compared to his first day of training camp. However, nothing could compare to the dreaded first day of school.
For most, it meant picking out your freshest outfit the night before; shoes that had never even left the box and jeans that had just had the stickers pulled off of them.
But not for Tre.
It was forced social interactions, unfortunate glances from school staff, and the mad scramble to figure out which classes he had when and where in this God-forsaken building they were located. Even as a senior, things had never changed.
The front of the school was mostly absent of people as Tre had taken a longer route to school to pass by Moe’s and pick up his paycheck. He wasn’t quite running late, but he was most definitely no stranger to tardiness. Nonetheless, he turned up his music and walked through the front doors.
“I’m grindin’, I’m grindin’, I’m grindin’ I promise
I fuck her until I get tired, retire and then come out retirement
My girl like it rough she said “find me a diamond”
Her body be grindin’”
Lil Wayne’s unique voice rattled through Tre’s voice as he accessed the lock combination and began piling some of his things within. Unlike most of the other students, he was luckily able to get access to his before the beginning of school because of football practice.
All of a sudden, he felt a quaint little tap on his shoulder, and turned around to find a breathtaking sight.
Her blonde locks were draped all over her shoulders, mixed in with some lighter highlights but what caught Tre so off guard were her bursting blue eyes that just reeled him in. She smiled shyly before mouthing something. Tre couldn’t quite make it out, before realizing he was still getting an earful of Weezy and not this stunner.
“The feds be spying on all of us nigga
These hoes be lying to all of us nigga
I got news for the monogamous niggas
Yo' bitch fucking anonymous niggas”
He quickly removed his headphones and she nervously chuckled at his obvious embarrassment.
“Don’t worry about it, I don’t think I said anything too too important” she gave him a sweet smile that he returned weakly. Tre never had too much experience interacting with other people in general. It got worse after Isaiah passed away. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had an extended conversation with a woman.
“I’m Tre” he said shyly, barely above a whisper. She could tell he wasn’t doing his greatest, her smile grew even wider.
“And unfortunately, I’m running very late, do you know where C305 is? I can’t figure this school out for the life of me” she asked, looking around the floor wildly. She must have been a new student transferring in.
“Take those doors, and take the staircase two levels up, it should be just outside of the doors you’ll find” he answered with a frog in his voice. It took until the end of his sentence to realize how groggy he sounded, as he quickly made it a point to clear his voice.
“You’re a lifesaver, Tre. I’ll make sure to come find you at some point” she touched his arm gently before speed-walking off and through the doors as he instructed. He took a deep breath, realizing he had barely been doing so as soon as she made physical contact with him. He shook himself out of his brief stuper to realize that if she was running late, he was most definitely going to be late.
He shut his locker and began sprinting in the direction of his first class, hoping to see mystery girl sooner rather than later.
Hopefully, he would remember the English language more indepthly when they would meet again.
My Brother's Keeper
Damn, our boy Tre gotta up his game. Can't be going around sounding like you're afraid of women when you speak to 'em.
-
Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
-
Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
My Brother's Keeper
Have a Tic-Tac
The first day of classes had been rather uneventful, with teachers simply sharing the syllabus and classroom expectations with the students, and the students discussing how they decided to spend their summers. The list ranged from luxurious vacations in places that Tre couldn’t even begin to know how to spell to spending the summer holidays working towards their college fund.
Tre didn’t have much to share, as he simply worked out and spent his time with men easily four times his age. Watching his father devolve into a raging alcoholic who hung around shady characters wasn’t something he felt like sharing.
Lunch period came and Tre was relieved for an opportunity to sit with his mediocre lunch and scout through the playoff he had received during the first week of training camp. St. Thomas Aquinas planned to out-maneuver their opponents it seemed - Tre’s playbook was bigger than all of his textbooks.
He walked into the cafeteria, flooding with students and filled with excited chatter. He wasn’t until he was holding his bagged lunch with his playbook tucked underneath his arm that he realized he truly had no one to sit with. The football team was scattered and other than the few times he had to discuss play structure with some of the offense, he never had any opportunities to converse with them.
He found an open table and sat down, pulling out his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and opening his playbook to the audibles section - the section he always had the most trouble with. He could make the plays; it was understanding what plays needed to be switched under which circumstances that he was troubling getting ahold of.
“Well, would you look at that, my morning saviour all alone” a female voice spoke just close enough for him to make out. He peeked his nose out of the book and noticed that it was mystery book, beaming that beautiful smile at him again. He smiled sheepishly as she sat across from him and began unloading his lunch. A roast beef sandwich with a Caesar salad as a side. An interesting combination at the very least.
“I can tell from the way you’re eyeing my food that you’ve noticed my awkward combo but I can tell you, it’s the best of both worlds,” she said, spying at what Tre had been reading before she waltzed up. “What class is that for?”
Tre made sure to clear his throat before replying. “No class actually, this is the playbook for the football team, just trying to study up before practice after school.”
Her eyes widened as she took a bite of her sandwich. With her mouth full, she reached for the book and turned it towards her, staring at the formations that were on the page. She nodded in what looked like enjoyment as she chewed and swallowed.
“That’s so interesting, I don’t know much about football other than that this school is absolutely nuts for it, what position do you play?” she asked, covering her mouth as she spoke. Tre smiled warmly, nice to know that she wasn’t too familiar with the fame that was St. Thomas Aquinas football.
“Quarterback.”
“Would you look at that, first day of school and I’m sitting with the quarterback of the super famous football school” she joked, making a face of royalty as she continued to smile on, digging the salad dressing into her salad with her plastic fork.
“I wouldn’t say THE quarterback, but I am one of them” Tre corrected her. As if it was clockwork designed by the Gods from above, the other quarterback walked into the cafeteria. Nathan sported his Varsity jacket and followed by a few of their teammates. Almost as if it was scripted, Nathan spied out Tre and made his way over.
“Well, if it isn’t my backup, Mr. Legacy” Nathan mocked, his customary rich guy smirk painted on his face. Tre rolled his eyes and sighed. He had learned that it was easier to ignore or de-escalate the situation than to take him on. Even when he made jabs at his brother’s position in St. Thomas lore.
“You haven’t been named the starter yet, Nathan, relax yourself” Tre replied calmly. Nathan clearly wasn’t listening to things he didn't want to hear, instead choosing to peek first at Tre’s playbook and then at his company.
“No matter how much studying you do, it’s not going to help you, lightskin. At least on the football field it won’t, but maybe in the female department…” he said, now giving his attention to the girl whose name Tre still hadn’t learned.
“Although this playbook is fascinating,” she replied, closing the book shut and handing it over to Tre. “I much prefer my quarterbacks to me half-decent human beings like my new friend here, rather than apes that smell like actual feces” she said, her beaming smile never leaving her face. Nathan’s friends started laughing their asses off at his expense, his smirk being replaced by his red face of embarrassment. He mumbled some assortment of ‘Fuck You bitch’ before straddling off. Some of his teammates patted Tre on the back before following.
Tre was shell-shocked. “Didn’t think you had that in you”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mr. Quarterback.”
“Well, please do share.”
“Well, first and foremost, my name is Beth, and the longer you’re able to hang around, the more you’ll find out” she added, beaming a radiant look towards Tre. The two enjoyed the rest of their lunch, celebrating Beth’s raucous victory over the heinous Nathan.
This year might just turn out half okay if Tre could play his cards right.
The first day of classes had been rather uneventful, with teachers simply sharing the syllabus and classroom expectations with the students, and the students discussing how they decided to spend their summers. The list ranged from luxurious vacations in places that Tre couldn’t even begin to know how to spell to spending the summer holidays working towards their college fund.
Tre didn’t have much to share, as he simply worked out and spent his time with men easily four times his age. Watching his father devolve into a raging alcoholic who hung around shady characters wasn’t something he felt like sharing.
Lunch period came and Tre was relieved for an opportunity to sit with his mediocre lunch and scout through the playoff he had received during the first week of training camp. St. Thomas Aquinas planned to out-maneuver their opponents it seemed - Tre’s playbook was bigger than all of his textbooks.
He walked into the cafeteria, flooding with students and filled with excited chatter. He wasn’t until he was holding his bagged lunch with his playbook tucked underneath his arm that he realized he truly had no one to sit with. The football team was scattered and other than the few times he had to discuss play structure with some of the offense, he never had any opportunities to converse with them.
He found an open table and sat down, pulling out his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and opening his playbook to the audibles section - the section he always had the most trouble with. He could make the plays; it was understanding what plays needed to be switched under which circumstances that he was troubling getting ahold of.
“Well, would you look at that, my morning saviour all alone” a female voice spoke just close enough for him to make out. He peeked his nose out of the book and noticed that it was mystery book, beaming that beautiful smile at him again. He smiled sheepishly as she sat across from him and began unloading his lunch. A roast beef sandwich with a Caesar salad as a side. An interesting combination at the very least.
“I can tell from the way you’re eyeing my food that you’ve noticed my awkward combo but I can tell you, it’s the best of both worlds,” she said, spying at what Tre had been reading before she waltzed up. “What class is that for?”
Tre made sure to clear his throat before replying. “No class actually, this is the playbook for the football team, just trying to study up before practice after school.”
Her eyes widened as she took a bite of her sandwich. With her mouth full, she reached for the book and turned it towards her, staring at the formations that were on the page. She nodded in what looked like enjoyment as she chewed and swallowed.
“That’s so interesting, I don’t know much about football other than that this school is absolutely nuts for it, what position do you play?” she asked, covering her mouth as she spoke. Tre smiled warmly, nice to know that she wasn’t too familiar with the fame that was St. Thomas Aquinas football.
“Quarterback.”
“Would you look at that, first day of school and I’m sitting with the quarterback of the super famous football school” she joked, making a face of royalty as she continued to smile on, digging the salad dressing into her salad with her plastic fork.
“I wouldn’t say THE quarterback, but I am one of them” Tre corrected her. As if it was clockwork designed by the Gods from above, the other quarterback walked into the cafeteria. Nathan sported his Varsity jacket and followed by a few of their teammates. Almost as if it was scripted, Nathan spied out Tre and made his way over.
“Well, if it isn’t my backup, Mr. Legacy” Nathan mocked, his customary rich guy smirk painted on his face. Tre rolled his eyes and sighed. He had learned that it was easier to ignore or de-escalate the situation than to take him on. Even when he made jabs at his brother’s position in St. Thomas lore.
“You haven’t been named the starter yet, Nathan, relax yourself” Tre replied calmly. Nathan clearly wasn’t listening to things he didn't want to hear, instead choosing to peek first at Tre’s playbook and then at his company.
“No matter how much studying you do, it’s not going to help you, lightskin. At least on the football field it won’t, but maybe in the female department…” he said, now giving his attention to the girl whose name Tre still hadn’t learned.
“Although this playbook is fascinating,” she replied, closing the book shut and handing it over to Tre. “I much prefer my quarterbacks to me half-decent human beings like my new friend here, rather than apes that smell like actual feces” she said, her beaming smile never leaving her face. Nathan’s friends started laughing their asses off at his expense, his smirk being replaced by his red face of embarrassment. He mumbled some assortment of ‘Fuck You bitch’ before straddling off. Some of his teammates patted Tre on the back before following.
Tre was shell-shocked. “Didn’t think you had that in you”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mr. Quarterback.”
“Well, please do share.”
“Well, first and foremost, my name is Beth, and the longer you’re able to hang around, the more you’ll find out” she added, beaming a radiant look towards Tre. The two enjoyed the rest of their lunch, celebrating Beth’s raucous victory over the heinous Nathan.
This year might just turn out half okay if Tre could play his cards right.
My Brother's Keeper
Don't trust them blonde white girls, Tre. Don't do it!