The Next Day
"DESPITE DROPPING SECOND-HALF OPENER,
FISHER CATS POUNCE BACK WITH PLAYOFF PUSH!"
That's the tongue-twisting breaking headline (in my head) at the top of the academy league page. I should be smiling. I should be feeling like I can conquer the world. We clinched our spot a couple weeks ago. Another playoff. Another chance to win it all.
My last.
1. Manville 16-5-3 (53 Pts.)
2. Portersburgh 14-6-4 (48 Pts.)
3. The Marmots 13-7-4 (46 Pts.)
4. Sommerville 12-7-5 (43 Pts.)
The academy league playoffs are easy. Be one of the "Lucky Four" as they call it (I hate the name because luck's not real), and you're in. This year? We've placed second. It's my second second-place finish. I've finished in third three times, then sixth once. I've never been first. It doesn't matter what place I finish in, though, because the result has always been the same.
Six years. Six heartbreaks.
Not this year.
Not—
Look, you can either sit here and mope about your fight with Kenzie, her mom, work, or how it's the end of the world, but you're not doing it with this game, Stephen. I'm not letting it. It's your first playoff game of the series and we're going to win.
We—
And after we win? We'll win regionals. Then, make it to the final and get a trophy that means something to you.
Sounds too much like those overly sappy TV movies to me.
What's wrong with those?
I didn't say there was anything wrong with them.
Too feel-good for you, Emo Boy?
Emo? Shut up!
Then, shut up about them. You've always had a lot of emotion in you. Last year. Last chance. All this pent-up anxiety? Put it to good use.
YOU ARE READING
Earhart & Noonan: An "Us Club" Novel (#1)(NaNoWriMo15)
Teen FictionFor the first twelve years of Stephen Vaughn's life, just trying to get others around him to pronounce his first name the right way ("Stee-vehn Vawn") has felt like the hardest task he's had to try and cope with. That is, until his perfect life with...
