Three Brood Instigators

68. Soccer Coach

The whistle was blown. "Alright everyone, gather up!" Coach Jarvis said.

"Coach Jarvis," Billy the kid struggled. "How exactly do you perform a Elastici? I don't get it."

"Dude, it's easy," Brad said. "Here Bill, kick the ball."

Billy kick the ball west, and Brad performed an Elastico, and the soccer ball plunged hard to the net, the ball managed to hit the fence in the noise from the distance. "Dude, that was clean," Billy reacted.

"My advice, don't rush it, bro—you are not on the team just yet," Brad advised.

"Hehehehe," Old Coach Jarvis said. "Oh Brad, I often wonder why you can't just become a soccer coach like me instead of pursuing a petroleum engineering degree."

"Hey, there's a real future with petroleum engineering, one with lots of money, one with reputation!" Brad showed off.

"Alright, alright," Coach Jarvis accepted. "Nothing means more to me than teaching you," he patted. "I mean, to teach all of you," he said to everyone. "You all are great players. Soon, you'll win the entire team ten gold medals someday, just the same as Brad. Maybe you can carry those far to Texas," he quoted. "Class dismissed everyone."

Brad's phone rang. "Hey, Troy, what's up?" he greeted. "Nah, I was having my Soccer lessons; you know it's Saturday today," he responded. "I know right? Who would want to go to a peace party? I bet war would start after someone spoils the cake. At least it was fun watching the whole war this year, especially when we graduate now, like, oh my Gosh, man, just the two boys always eyeing on those angry suckers," he said. "Yeah, yeah, we'll definitely spend our lucky holidays before graduation comes in a few weeks. I can't believe we are graduating early this month, yey!"

Clayne checked on the optician.

"Is the glasses fixed?" Clayne asked.

"Yup," the optician gave the glasses case, Clayne checked on it, fixed and clean. "It was quite some damage. Did your little brother crashed his bicycle or something?"

"Something like that," Clayne put the glasses back.

"That would be $110," the optician said.

"Uhh, can we make it $100?" Clayne negotiated.

"Sorry kid. This is not real estate," the optician reminded. "I have a family to feed. Besides, I cleaned the glasses too."

"Well, you shouldn't have, but shit, fine," Clayne couldn't believe he had to pay another $10 of his money.

"Have a nice day," the optician farewelled. "I hope your little brother keeps his eyes peeled this time."

Clayne got outside of the optician, heading to the right where the direction leads home, he saw Pastuzo before he could even turn, Pastuzo was punching his nose, moving his eyes left and right while covering his mouth, thinking.

"I think I got it all out," Pastuzo said. "I get why Fhadey's the way he is. I get why that old witch is the way she is, how they both were able to play the brains of the people they manipulated, you feel me, Clayne?"

Clayne honestly said, "No, no I don't."

Clayne sat by the bench.

"They are scared," Pastuzo realized why. "Deep down they are scared, scared that they'll lose... scared that they will be hurt if something's not done," he mentioned. "I guess that witch thought the best way to bring order is to do it with force, so that she can get money for herself. Oftentimes people don't do their work well, they don't do it honestly, they pretend as if they could do it, but deep down, they are looking for comfort, looking for the easy way out possible."