SEVENS

BROTHERS, BLANKETS AND BOTTLES

The universe seemed to only wish shit on me.
Raf and I had just finished dressing out in our black on purple home uniforms and left the locker rooms side by side. The tension from the almost kiss had kept me at a distance. Well the embarrassment from thinking Raf had been black mailing me the whole time was deterring me too but-- mostly the kiss. And while it was awkward to share a room with him and still not say a word to him I felt like it was the only way to make amends for my stupid assumptions. Like I could stop being an absolute useless team member by not speaking. At least that's what I hoped I was doing.

The thursday sun was not kind, I could almost smell it burning the plastic turf field. The people filling in the stands were either chugging bottles of water, slathering on sunscreen or propping up big umbrellas. Almost everyone in the bleachers was dressed to match the school colors.
Raf tapped on my shoulder causing me to jump. He raised an eyebrow at my reaction but didn't say anything and instead motioned to our right. Jean was waving at us from down the field. He was standing with his family on the sidelines to chat waiting for the game to start. Raf started ahead of me, Elias and Sophia rushed to tackle him around the legs, their blond hair floating about them in a way similar to their brother and father. It made me wish for my natural color back. Pierre hugged his wife tight around the waist as she and Raf conversed quickly in Spanish.
I stopped several feet away and bent to tie my shoes tighter. As much as I wanted to join in and talk with Pierre for only a moment I was stalling until I could find the courage. The laces bit into my fingers and I distantly registered the shouting of a name.

"Tom! Tom! Hey Tom!" A pause for a catch of breath. "Tomas!"

My heart leapt to my throat. The way it was said, softening of the 'o' and 'a' at the back of the throat making it sound distinctly Russian, not at all like the English Thomas.
I bit my lip and tried to ignore it. Slowly standing up I made eye contact with Pierre who had turned his attention to the person calling my name. Pierre was the only one watching as a hand landed on my shoulder and a body came around my own to face me, leaving Pierre visible from behind.

"Tomas! It's me, Max!" Max smiled and I forced myself to do the same.

"Max! Wow, what are you doing here?" I was interested but only in a "how far behind are the cops" kind of way.
I could feel my heartbeat speeding up, like I had just finished playing a game and wasn't waiting for it to start. It was hard to keep the smile on my face. I knew no one here--except Jack who I didn't see anywhere-- knew that name but Pierre had his eyes trained on me and I couldn't shake it off. I couldn't calm enough to keep up the act.

Max was a wiry Hispanic boy with smiles and energy to spare. He'd been my only friend at the neighborhood school I'd attended while in foster care. His brother had driven us around town after school for food and playing at parks while he and his friends chilled and watched us. It was where the trouble had started and blossomed.

Allan, Max's older brother was a member of a small local gang that, to my knowledge, didn't exist anymore. Some unorganized thing that Max and I had been messengers for. It had died off three months after forming. Max and I had only "joined" because they paid us with ice cream. We didn't know better. That didn't matter to the local p.d. Or anyone else for that matter.

"Just supporting the team!" It had passed my Raf consumed mind that we were competing against Oakland High. My old school. "I had no idea you played! And changed your name too- fuck did you get adopted?" He pointed at my last name printed on my jersey like on my team jacket.
Max was well aware of my situation, My younger self hadn't cared who knew. "Um-something like that."
"Wow, well that's great! Well I'll leave you to it!" And he took off.

With Max no longer a shield I could feel the full force of Pierre's gaze. I shrugged, animatedly. "Wrong person." I smiled and shook my head. I watched Pierre intently. He seemed to be trying to figure something out in his head, and I seemed to be some sort of piece to his puzzle. A whistle blew signaling the start of warm ups and Pierre finally looked away.