We Align

I can't lose him too

I can't lose him too

Jayden's life revolves around the people he loves, school and physical activity.

I like to say that he is gifted because he is amazing at almost everything he does.

From a really young age, Jayden has always been somewhat obsessed with his image. He was a model from age one to eight. He stopped for reasons I still don't know of. All I do know is that I shouldn't even try to even take a picture of him.

Jayden fell in love with football. He likes the physique of football players and he works non-stop to get his body to a top form.

Who else's know an eleven-year-old with the physique of a 15-year-old track star.

One weekend Jayden invited me to a game of pickup. He has a game for basketball too. The thing was we play the same position. We were both shooting guards, and we bring out the best in each other.

Our small game of pick up turned into a shooting contest. I won. I may be small, but my range is endless.

We walked towards Jayden's house and decided to stay out and play a bit of catch in his backyard.

Jayden constantly worked on perfecting his grip on a football. There was only one problem. Jayden football is huge. I have very small hands. And we were playing with an NFL regulated ball.

Jay always made fun of me for not being able to catch the ball properly. Is it my fault his freakishly large hands can catch the stupid ball? I was up for a bet.

"Hey, monster hands!" I yelled at him before he threw the ball at me.

"What?"

"Up for a bet?" I asked.

He laughed at me. "You always lose bets, Madison. But I'm listening."

Jayden never turns down a bet. Maybe I do lose, but I had a good feeling.

"Okay, if I catch, 7 throws in a row, you have to run 40 suicides." If I put my mind to it. I can do it.

"And what do I get if I win?" He pressed.

"Well, what do you want Jay?"

He thought about it for a while. Then his eyes lit up.

"I'll tell you once I win...Hold on only seven?" He questioned.

I hummed my reply.

"No, make it ten and make the tenth try a one-handed."

The words that came out of his mouth sounded impossible. Before I can protest, he taunted me.

"Aye, strike one, tip, foul, foul, strike two. Too bad, even as a shortstop, you can't catch the ball for your life. It's just a simple one-handed catch. You're basically saying you can't catch a softball with one hand if you don't even try to agent a football."

What he said didn't even make sense. Three pitch has nothing to do with football. But listening to him insult my favourite sport made me see red.

"Fine...bet! Throw the dang ball!" I was so frustrated.

He threw it hard. But I caught it, tucking the ball against my stomach. He wasn't going to make this easy for me.

"Nine to go." He smirked.

"You are losing." I pointed at him.

"In your dreams." He laughed.

"I'll make it a reality, now stop talking and come on."