Alternate Realities

Thanksgiving, pt 3

"This is not soccer," Cal groans from his back in the mud puddle that marks the goal he just failed to protect. Tramy uses his stomach to push himself up. Cal gasps and flips onto hands and knees.

"Get up and start playing. You're getting us killed. I thought you said you were good at soccer." Mare yanks his arm and moves to the center where Farley faces off against Bree.

"There's no tackling in soccer."He slips, adding, "Or mud."

"Adapt, You're embarrassing yourself," Mare snaps.

Everyone is loving this game mostly because Cal, or Calvin (as he's been dubbed by my brothers), does not. I line up on the line ready to get in the way, which is about my limits when it comes to sports. But in the mud, it's not ineffective to force others to go around me.

I'm supposed to stay on Cameron, Kilorn on Mare and Tramy on Cal. Bree lines up against Farley, but there's an odd fear in his eyes. She's been more than a handful for him. Cameron has never played soccer before so there no rules for her to forget, which means she's doing really, really well. But Cal keeps calling fouls, as if we care anything about fouls. The only one not getting blasted to the ground is Farley. It might be because Bree is big enough to loop an arm around her waist to stop her. But also, I think everyone knows there could be repercussions if some decorum wasn't being upheld with the General.

Cameron jolts to the right and past me. I get an arm around her center, but slip to my knees. I drag down her body. Every inch of her is a new feel that I can't quite memorize, but I want to.Her frame is slender but her thighs are solid. I don't dig my hands in, but instead try to hold her with my muddy hands flat against her. I lose my grip, and drop face first into the mud. I scramble up and after her. She has the ball. Mare drops Kilorn but maintains her footing. He's shouting about sparks. Cameron faces Bree who has Farley tugging at his shoulder. Cal is... Well... He's pulling his punches with Tramy who's getting to our goal to block Cameron's advances. Cal stands off to the side, he looks like an idiot. Tramy blocks, the ball ricochets towards Cal and no one is there to stop him.

"Get Calvin!" I yell, pointing as the ball reaches him. It feels good to yell. And better to get a glare from him for using that name. He finally makes a move. Kilorn charges into him, shoulder low and to his center. Cal's legs fly up and he lands hard on his back in the mid, again.

Mare ushers her team together, but she doesn't bother to be quiet.

"Goddammit Calvin," Cameron swears.

"Layoff, Cole," he snarls. I don't like that tone. I hope Kilorn drops him again.

"Stop it, Cal. At least Cameron got to the goal. You're just lining yourself up to get plowed," Mare barks.

"That's what she said," Bree shouts. We snicker. They glare.

"Okay, obviously, you can't handle Tramy. How about you take Kilorn? And Cameron you stay on Gisa. That seems okay. I'll deal with Tramy. Got it?" Cal looks affronted. I definitely don't mind chasing Cameron.

"We gonna set up for a good plowing or you guys forfeiting?" Bree teases.

"Just wrap yourself around his legs and bring him down," Mare snaps her fingers, sending Cal away.

I'm not sure he's ever been talked to like that, and least of all by Mare. But between him and I, I'm trying and he's whining. There's no whining in the Barrow house.

We split apart and I line up to face Cameron, but I can barely look up. I turn to check my team and Kilorn smirks, eyebrows raising suggestively. I go cold. He knows. How does he know? The ball goes past me and Cameron comes straight for me, jumping right. I jump with her, only there's two other bodies wrestling in the space. Kilorn has Cal. Their feet slip on the mud as they push eachother's shoulders. Cameron darts to my left and when I spin I'm under two sets of arms and a heavy mass of bodies: Cal and Kilorn.