A/N: Alright. I wasn't going to post the first chapter yet. I was going to wait until tonight but my son has decided to pull the pulg out of the back of my computer. Which has turned my computer into a ticking timebomb and I won't be able to use it for a couple of hours while the stupid thing decides to recognize the plug again. Thank god for my iTouch! Enjoy reading!
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“Ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“Are you sure? Because if you’re not we can wait. We can do something else.”
“I’m ready, Peter. How many times do I have to tell you? Just trust me.”
His brown eyes with red specks bore into mine, churning softly with anticipation.
“Ok.” He smiled. “Try not to drop the ball this time.”
I rolled my eyes. “One time I drop the stupid thing and you won’t let it go.”
“Come on!” my father yelled. “Enough huddling and whispering. Let’s go!”
“Break.”
Everyone slapped their hands together and we broke out of the huddle. We were playing flag football in the Marks’s backyard. The old people versus us young people.
Mr. Marks, Mrs. Marks, my father, Aunt Will, and Steven against Peter, Gwen, Bren, Me, and Darken. It was going…horribly. We were losing because Darken and I had no clue what we were supposed to be doing. Football for us was the equivalent of soccer here. And this definitely wasn’t soccer.
We lined up on the fake line, my father following my every move with a smile.
“Where ya going, little girl?” he taunted.
I just grinned and waited for the signal that I was supposed to run. Of course, even a few seconds after Peter yelled “hike”, I stayed where I was. Then it hit me that I was supposed to go, not to mention a glare from Gwen and I took off for their end zone, all the while staying a little ahead of my father and looking over my shoulder for the ball.
When it came, it arched through the air perfectly and I caught it.
“Oh come on!” my father yelled.
“Come get me, old man!”
Right as I crossed the goal line, he grabbed my flag and pulled.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” I danced around my father on the end zone. “You’re too slow!”
He hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me in so he could mess up my hair.
“You’re too fast for your own good.” He kissed me on top of my head.
“Or you’re just too slow.” I shoved him playfully. He let me go as my team literally tried to tackle me to the ground.
“You caught it!” Bren said.
“It’s a freaking miracle!” Gwen screamed, hopping around me like she had way too much sugar.
“Very well done,” Darken said, the only calm one out of the bunch. “With the catching and all.”
We all laughed at him. He was taking a long time adjusting to American culture. The only one missing was Peter who’d been tackled by his father just as he loosed the ball. Technically there wasn’t supposed to be tackling in flag football but the ref, Alma in this case, didn’t call foul.
That was until Peter plowed into me.
“You can’t tackle your own teammate, lad!”
“Ow!” I tried to shove him off me. “I think you punctured a lung.”
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Desolate Me
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