Delinquente

Chapter 8 - Bruises

 

Hey guys, how are you doing? First of all: Thank you so much for the 500+ views!

As you noticed I didn't post last week. In my country, we are not on holidays, so I had to do a bunch of tests for my school and didn't have time to write and edit this chapter. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Comment your thoughts and feedback!

-----------------------

It's been a little while that I climbed to the rooftop of my house, one hour maybe. The sun is setting, and the sky turning into a mix of colours. To the right, orange and yellow, following to the left, a pinkish shade is mixing out with the dark blue in the middle, making purple between those colours. The light shined and reflected on the tiny windows of the brick houses. The soft breeze blew my hair along with the tree leaves. I felt peace when I stared in that landscape. The music made my eardrums vibrate. I sigh. I keep going back to some hours ago when I shared a cigarette with Gilbert. Why did I feel like that? I don't even know what that feeling was. I never felt that way before, maybe nostalgia? Probably not.

I stare at my bare knees, pulling up my long white socks to cover them. I was already ready for the match. I was wearing baggy white shorts and an oversized black T-Shirt. I haven't played football in months, at least I'm going to be the Goalkeeper, Gil said I could use his gloves. I get up and walk towards my window, jumping inside my room. My hair was damp from the shower I took first thing when I got to my house. Thankfully my dad wasn't home when I arrived. I look at myself in the mirror and take a comb, brushing my hair back. I'm feeling excited. Meeting new people is something that I enjoy doing. I almost have a heart attack when a little rock is thrown inside my room through my window. I ran towards it, and Gilbert was standing out there in front of my garden like he was innocent.

"Why the fuck you did that? Couldn't you just yell my name or I don't know, rang the fucking doorbell, asshole?" He laughs.

"It's more exciting this way." I roll my eyes, closing the curtains. I take my boots off the fluffy carpet floor. While I was walking down the stairs, I heard something in the kitchen. I went there, and my father was sitting on our island. He stops doing whatever with his phone and looks at me.

"Hey Dad, I'm gonna play football with the boys," I said, leaning on the tiled wall to start putting my boots, they were white with orange lines circulating it. "Hum, later I'm going to a party, can I use your car?" I tie my laces, balancing myself in one foot.

"Hey. Sure, but tomorrow we'll talk the little reunion you had with the principal today. He called me." I sigh, fucking old man. I hope he has a stroke.

"It wasn't a big deal, I didn't want to bother you with such a trivial thing while you were working," I stand, letting my feet on the ground. I looked at my phone, and we were almost late. "Fuck" I grunt.

"Like I said: Tomorrow we'll talk. I want to talk about you not respecting elders. Have a good game. " When did he become so stiff? I walked through the front door, and Gilbert was with his hands on the pockets of the shorts he was wearing. He had a red cap on and was basically dressed like me, a black shirt and white shirt. Though those were stamped with his name and number, it was the school team uniform.

"So did you bring gloves?" I ask, walking by his side. He had a black backpack on his back, so I assumed he was carrying the promised gloves.

"Yep, did your dad land you the car?" He asked, looking me up and down, which made me raise my eyebrows. There something wrong with me? I look down to my shirt, ensuring that I didn't get it dirty with toothpaste or something. "You look better." He seemed to notice that I found his look a bit awkward.