Untitled Document

Untitled Part Fourteen - Anita

Two weeks of endless amounts of intense training, long hours on hot days, tears shed from exhaustion. And alas, it's time. Game day. The day we've been working so hard towards and we're here to win.

    The sun has only begun to rise, but everyone is up. We file into vehicles, travelling in groups of five or six and filling each car to its capacity. Everyone is ready. We wear camo clothing, variations of greens and browns. Water bottles have been filled and we're ready to go.

    We travel in silence. Even the radio stays off and the only noise comes from the road speeding by beneath us, though I wish someone would stay something. It's not often I'm afraid to be alone with my thoughts but today is one of those days. It is in fact a big day, and not just physically for the sake of this game. Today is the day I come clean to Mason. Today is the day I tell her how I really feel. And honestly? There are very few times I've ever been so worried.  In reality, there are only two ways this can go. The best outcome would be Mason says she agrees and feels the same way, which of course would leave the worst outcome to be Mason being disgusted and we never speak again.

    I steal a glance at Mason. She's dressed in greens and browns like the rest of us, her short golden hair pulled back with a sports headband. She's put her earbuds in and is looking out the window, so she doesn't notice when I stare for just a little too long. God I hope this works out.

    When I look away I notice Bill watching us through the rearview mirror. I pretend I don't notice and go back to watching the trees as we pass them by.

The field where we organized the game is about an hour or so from our campsite and when we arrive, Chelsea's family is already there. Her family is bigger than ours but only half of them seem as if they're going to play. My group arrives first out of our family, leaving us alone to face the Chelsea's.

"Here we go." Jannett murmurs, the words are more an exhale of breath rather than something spoken to the rest of us. She wraps the blue flag around her wrist and pushes open the passenger side door, Bill, Jack, Mason, Jaz, and I follow her out into the field. It's time. Competition begins now.

The family that's participating in the game is spread out across the grass stretching and warming up their muscles. Unlike us, they wear almost fully brown, hats, shoes and all. I'm not sure how that's going to help them in a green field, but I won't complain if it gives us the advantage.

On the sidelines are the eldest of their family who aren't fit to play, and the little ones, who are too young to understand. Except for one. A teenage boy sits among them, I think it would be fair to say he's no younger than me, maybe a year older. From the looks of him I'd say he's probably a total douchebag too. He has the look of the typical Hollywood movie high school Californian-surfer-bully-dude. On a more sympathetic note he looks pretty beat up, his knee in a large brace looking thing, arm in a sling and face all bruised. When I take a closer look I think he's looking right at me, until I realize he's not looking at me, he's looking behind me. I turn to see who he's glaring at only to see Mason standing directly behind me.

She notices eyes on her and turns too, freezing when her eyes fall to him. Mason cringes and clenches her jaw, something hateful sparking in her eyes as she glares at him. As her eyes rove over his physical state her scowl is replaced with a smirk, but not the vengeful kind. It's something more along the lines of grateful or surprised. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and begins messaging someone, looking equally confused, pleased, and guilty. The boy never takes his eyes off her.

"Do you know him?" I ask, taking Mason's free hand whilst trying to see who she's messaging.

Mason angles her phone away from me and looks up and back to the boy. "No. He's not important." And with that she turns, giving him a cold shoulder, and marches off into the clearing to join the gathering family on what seems to be our side of the field. It's obvious there's something she's not saying, so I follow her lead and give the boy a cold shoulder leaving him to his pointless glare.