'Our hearts are like gems.'
The Story Of Summer Jones and Pierce Hudson. Two different teenagers, a girl and a boy wouldn't have found each other if love hadn't stopped them in their tracks.
We are fifteen-year-old boys with a reckless mindset and a...
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Summer Jones
We were currently walking across the wet, muddy infested grass. Maura and I, And the other girls who are also going to footy practice this evening. It is Sunday, and again, our coach had texted us on a Saturday night. I groaned in frustration after the notification, and his dull text messages are starting to annoy me.
Last night it just bugged me more than it usually did.
I had been experiencing a terrible headache last night, with a bad case of a runny nose.
I scratched myself accidentally after reaching for a dried-booger up my nose that I couldn't stand of feeling itchy anymore and it is all his fault for his startling text, that is why I sneered at the sight of his.
Practice tomorrow morning. Text message.
Now, the cut stings as droplets of the light rain cascade down my face, my nose.
The girls and I are covered in water, the gentle air lightly toying with our hairs and tenderly sending bitter kisses up and down my arms. If only I remembered to wear the long sleeve uniform, it felt sticky, sometimes like a second skin when I would go down skidding or tackled to the mud in practice or a real game.
The long-sleeve at least kept me a little warmer than this short sleeve, where as for the short-sleeved I am wearing had me shivering and coughing. I am sure that I'll be going home with a red nose, and waking up tomorrow morning for school with throat itching coughs.
I should've brought an umbrella with me. Even if Maura's mum would be picking us up after practice, I may need it when waiting for her if it still rained. I hate being forgetful sometimes.
It is already a bad idea that I can almost notice the signs of a cold climbing its way upwards.
I stride across the empty field alongside Maura, the heels of my football boots digging lightly into the floor as we get closer to the coach and the rest of the small figures of the team, my captain stoically standing beside him with her arms crossed. Before them being the balance of the team, practising and becoming aggressive to hold the prolate spheroid in their hands. I can't wait until I get hold of that ball, or to sprint across the field with determination and a rush of energy coursing through my veins.
Not right at this moment though.
Woah!
I never thought I would think such a thing. Not wanting to play at this time of the hour, in the morning where I could still wisp of my breath dancing with the wind. This time of the day was the best, and the cold air would have me focused and ready for anything. And I love Football as if it were my soulmate. We were the perfect match.
