Best Friend... or Boyfriend

Chapter 7

"Now, it is up to you to stand up for what you believe in. Make your own decisions and dare to be yourself and screw those who don't like it."

         Don't mess with her          by; jessieslullaby
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Friday. Game day.

It seems to be Michael's favorite day. Heck, it seems to be everybody's favorite day.

Being best friends with a football jock has its perks, but most of all it pisses me off that I am expected to go to all of his games.

No one will leave me alone, especially the girls, asking questions. What's Michael's favorite color? What does he like better, dresses or short shorts and crop tops you would basically call a sports bra? Do you think Kyle likes me? Blah, blah, blah. Why can't these people go ask them them-fucking-selves?

"Hey, Bri," a too perky voice says.

"What do you want Elizabeth?"

"How many times have I told you to call me Lizzie? I just wanted to know what Michael's favorite color is, and if he likes dresses?"

"Countless times," I say holding up one finger. "He likes when girls wear the colors they like instead of trying to figure out his favorite color," two fingers, "and it depends on the length, it has to rang from mid-calf to around three inches from your knees. Any longer or shorter he thinks your too shy or too slutty."

"Thanks," she says as she gives me a side hug. I stood frozen as she hugged me.

"Woah, looks like big bad girl has a soft side," a voice says behind me. I ask Elizabeth to let go of me before I turn towards the person. I look at the person, making sure I'm not hitting someone who could get me kicked out of school, before making my fist come in contact with his temple, knocking him to the floor before turning around.

Elizabeth was shocked that I would hit somebody in front of her. I may be feared but I never, ever, hit somebody in front of my cousin. She always thought people were always crazy when they would avoid me. They always moved to the sides of the hallway when I walked through, the only person who would cross my path when I wasn't with Michael was Elizabeth or a new student, who always got pulled to the side by somebody who didn't want them to get killed.

We were now seated in the bleachers of the opposing team. I was sat next to Alex and Elizabeth, both were apparently trying to make me go deaf.

I watched Michael, whose number was 32, run down the field and score the winning touchdown. (A/N that's my brother's football and baseball number, coincidence, I think not. Coach Webster is football and baseball coach...sooo, yeah...) I cheered with the rest of the crowd, but it seemed no one could match my excitement.

Alex, Elizabeth, and I ran down the bleachers as Michael ran towards the edge of the field with Kyle. I ran and jumped in Michael's arms as Kyle spun Elizabeth around, making her black skirt flare out. I could here th  crowd laugh at our actions, but you know what, they can screw themselves because it's been forever since we won an away game, let alone Michael score the winning points.

I heard coach cough trying to hold back a laugh, so I gave him the bird.

I jumped down realizing that this wasn't me, I didn't deserve to be happy, I waited to long before diving into that lake to save him, I basically let him die, and I didn't deserve to be happy because he died because of me.

Michael looked sad once I jumped down, knowing why I got down.

Hello my creators,

Never expected Bri to have a family member she truly cared about now did you. Yes she loves her mother but she kind of cut her mother off after her father's death.

I don't like how she is so hard on herself about being happy, it's not her fault her father is dead. Sometimes I want to strangle myself for torturing my characters. *cries* But I won't, if I did who would write my stories, sure as heck wouldn't be Anna, or Carlie, or my other friends, or my family, so you people are stuck with me.

-Dizzi

QotC- Do you guys have any siblings in sports, and if so what sport, town you're from, and their number, it can even be you if you don't have siblings in sports?