Never Be the Same

Never Be the Same Four

This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Crispin Crispain shall ne'er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remember'd;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

                                       -St. Crispin's Day Speech, Henry V, 1598, William Shakespeare

Chapter Four

                The Titans had made it to the championship game and Beck Alistair was cleared to lead his team to victory. The entire school was buzzing with excitement even before the first bell rang. The halls were decorated in banners expressing the school colours feverishly. People roamed the halls sporting the school colours on their clothes, on their faces and in their hair.

                Kevin ran through the halls with a black and red speedo, red paint decorating his chest and back brightly. There were a few curse words but no teachers seemed to notice and, if they did, they didn't seem to care.

                Beck Alistair and Rick O'Neill wore their jerseys with pride, practically soaking up the attention like sponges. Several girls flocked to their sides with paint brushes and asked in a sugary sweet voice if they could paint something on their muscular bodies.

                "Dude, you'd think we were Gods or something with the way everyone's acting," Rick leaned over to whisper, hoping the cheerleaders didn't hear.

                Beck stifled a chuckle, jabbing his elbow in his ribcage. "We're better than Gods," he muttered back before puffing his chest out proudly. "We're Titans."

                A stupid smirk pulled at Rick's features. "You're such a loser, man," he shook his head before dismissing the cheerleader who wanted to paint their skin. A few pouted, but neither boy seemed to care. "So, have you apologized to Brittany for grabbing her by the throat?"

                "Alistair, you good to play?" Coach Stiles called from down the hall, prompting the attention from the entire class to dart down to Beck Alistair.

                Beck held up two thumbs to signal he'd gotten the okay. Coach Stiles grinned back - an actual full-fledged grin - before walking in to the physical education office. The entire hall seemed to grin madly as they walked off to do their own thing, and why wouldn't they? They were going to have their star quarterback in the game.

                As far as they were concerned, the game was in the bag.

                "I'll apologize to her, maybe now she'll piss off and leave me alone," Beck groaned, sliding a look over at his friend. "She's so freaking annoying and I quite like the space she's given me."

                Rick rolled his eyes. "That's because she's afraid you're going to practically strangle her again," a humorous glint shone brightly in his eyes as he looked back at Beck. "I know it's what you want but you really should say something to her. Even if you don't mean it, you still tried to clear the waters, you know?"