God's Field |COMPLETED|

Chapter Five- Skin Tones and Gravestones

Here I was. Breathing gentle and standing calm. Listening to the rustle of sports bags, the contact of cleats hitting petroleum rubber, and the hushed whispers that fell over the field like a cold, thick, coarse, blanket. I jumped when a hand gripped my shoulder, spinning around to face whomever it belonged to.

Coach Sanders chuckled, "geez kid, you're easier to scare than my niece's thousand year old chihuahua." I smiled, briefly picturing a rickety, bony, silver-haired, shaking, lap dog. "Yo Coach, who's that?" I turned to come face to face with a hispanic boy. He looked at me as if I was dirt underneath his skin, scowling at me in a threatening manner. A dark skinned, sweating Cameron, jogged over to knock the boy off, "he's goin' to help Coach pick out a new player."

The boy scoffed, "what's a white boy know 'bout that?" I looked at the soccer players- every single one of them were either hispanic, black, or mixed. Was I seriously that much of a problem because of my skin tone? "Shut it, Walker. He's probably one of the best, if not the best on this team. I've seen him play," Coach Sanders hissed, blowing out the fire that had the boy fuming. He muttered a chorus of curse words, glaring at me one last time before turning back to his team. This seemed to set a lot of the players on edge, I suppose the boy was one of higher rank judging by the looks the team was now sending me.

Coach raised a brow at me. To anyone else it looked like he was checking to see if I was about to blow a top, but I knew the underlining of his question; was I okay with playing and on an actual soccer field? Here goes everything, I held his gaze and nodded. A few guys noticed the exchange and sent me heated looks. This better not lead to my demise though, if it did I'd get to see my best friends again. My family again.

If I overworked myself maybe my body wouldn't be able to withhold to the point it would kill me. I was already on suspension from running and only had about a week to go before I would be cleared. That was the only reason Coach Sanders was letting me participate in this practice. "Everyone on the line except Green," Coach ordered, giving me a sharp look when I went to protest. Walker laughed, "can the white boy not condition? He too soft or somethin'?" Something was a word for it.

"Knock it off," Cameron spat, sending a cold stare at Walker. I didn't like this. I wasn't used to the sidelines, I wasn't used to any of it. Different people, different voices, different fields, everything just different. This time I wasn't taking no for an answer, "Coach please let me get on the line. I can't just sit here and watch. I just need to take the edge off and if I can't condition at least let me run. Please." It had been three weeks since I had been to the nurse's, so my legs were getting stronger and healing well.

His blue eyes flickered from me to the rest of the boys then back to me. He leaned down close to me, lowering his voice, "if you so much as start to hurt or take off in a dead sprint like you have been, I'll sit your butt right on that bench and you will not come back until your week is over. Understood?" Thank God, "yes sir." I guess there went my whole body suicide idea.

Nonetheless, I sported a smile and began to jog around the field. I hadn't ran since Kelsey came over three weeks ago. It was clear if I ever wanted to get back to running away from my mind, I was going to need to take a break whether I wanted to or not.

I felt like I was on cloud nine. The more distance increased from Coach's loud whistle the more I found myself able to relax and disappear. I had gone so long without running. It felt like I was being held underwater trying to break through to the surface. My lungs burned with agony as I held on for the last piece of air I had left when finally I broke through the surface and my lungs expanded, relishing in the oxygen I had been denied for so long.