Jamdown

Chapter 8

Irwin Pristine

An uproar of cheers carried my excitement and my feet. 

I saw five players, Leon got pushed down with one leaving four. One player reached after me. His fingers graced the helmet as I ran closer to the sideline. An arm grabbed my shoulder drawing my arm back.

"Fake!...fake!" Was shouted over the raucous noise mixed with the hot air I breathed in with a struggle. I flung my shoulder releasing myself from that grasp as Ember cut back with his palms out. 

A White House player rushed toward him as Ember caught the ball. I ran through the chaos of the flying bodies in the center and crashed into the White House Player.

Jumping over his lopsided body, I ran ahead of Ember. I made headway. The wind caressed me and the cheers sweetened my happiness.

My vision twisted as my chest heaved inward from a pain that ripped through me. The world spun as I fell and rolled into a splash of liquid.

I groaned. My limbs were heavy and my mind was dreary with muddled thoughts about this moistness. I rolled again. Now on my chest, I breathed out as the throb of the pain had me clutching my fist. I felt something betwixt my lips. Guess that was eventual, I cursed this team and my dumb luck. 

"Yo!" Leon's voice.

I tilted my head upward. Leon took his helmet off, and beside him was Malt who smiled at me. Staring up at them they almost looked like action figures, mighty with the gear making their bodies bulky under the glare of the orange dusk. 

"How does it feel to sacrifice your body for the team?" Malt asked. I saw Ember behind them. Ember gave me a thumbs-up and walked off like it was nothing. I raised my eyebrow in ire when the pain deepened in my lower side. 

"Feels like crap," I said with a sneer spitting out what would be a strain of grass.

Leon and Malt laughed then Leon smirked with a wave of his hands; a real show host. "Welcome to the team."

***

Ember scored the winning touchdown and we were still in it. We had a match next week again, I guessed that was enough time to rest this pain. I had taken off my pads and was shirtless as I held up my water-soaked shirt. Yup, the White House Snake Player rammed me into a table with a cooler, but, self-consciousness killed me worse than the cold. I looked around and noted everyone ripped, muscles and abs sleekly cut and well-formed. 

Malt and Leon looked like beasts. Carved like some heralded Gods of Olympus, I looked at my flat chest and stomach wishing I could have put my shirt back on. 

I groaned, for I needed to lift some weights. It's been since high school since I exercised or did any sports.

"You ok?" I fidgeted when I noticed Leon passed from behind me.

"Not really, I just got thrown into a table."

"You got a bath, makes It easier for you to get back," Leon said.

I ignored the bath comment. "Aren't tackles like that a little overboard?" 

Leon stared then he rolled his eyes, rocked his head, and then smiled. What was that, was that a stupid question I asked? I furrowed my eyebrow at him as he spoke, "NFL has stricter rules than the Jamaican Gridiron, but that tackle was nothing more than a body slam. It would not have been called, you were just unlucky that the table of drinks was close to you."

I frowned at that.

He closed his fist and laid it under his chin, elbow held by the palm of the other hand. He continued, "Sucks for us because we have to take this abuse more or less, but, hey, the fans enjoyed it. You should have seen the crowd reacting to your big splash on the scene."

Someone laughed behind me, I sighed, "Why even bother with it then, looks like you guys have a death wish?"

"Nope, we enjoy the battle." Leon waved his arm behind gesturing to the field, "This is where we feel at home. Asking me why I bother with it is like asking a boxer why he boxes or a hero why he saves people. You just don't."

This was awkward. I looked to the side, Malt was waving at me. He smiled as he came up to me.

"Good job today," he patted me on the shoulder and walked off. I had not moved, I was not sure how to react to that. I just said, "Thanks."

"Prix! The running champ!" I shook to hear a player call out, the guys roared my name then Ember nodded at me and clapped. The clap felt mocking.

Oh, right I forgot I had gotten two touchdowns for them. I guessed I had done my job.

Hill came in front of me and gave me a short punch in the chest. "Bossman."

"Don't sugarcoat the junior, he still fumbled in the second half!" One player bellowed. 

They didn't need to remind me of that. A fumble was when you dropped the ball, because of a player tackling you. I hated tackles, they hurt. Leon laughed and patted me on the back like I needed tender care.

Being hit in the side, in the legs, from the coursing tilt of my back, I still ached. How long could I continue this job? I looked at it like that, but honestly, I had to do better than this painful drudge of a task.

It made no sense to complain when I had nothing else to do. I mumbled. "Get better? I guess we will see." 

The ride back home was annoying. Then again everything was annoying to me. I came home tired and worn out. I never thought sleep cried for me with such an adverse desire. 

Once home I took myself to my room to see Phillip rolling on my bed.

Fantastic, I called, "Nodelyn, come get your monster!" I moved toward him and he jumped off. My hands lunged as he rounded the bed, he sidestepped me and ran into the hall giggling like a fool. Nodelyn came to the door, looked back into the hall then at me.

"Hey, how was the match?" she asked.

When I told her I signed up for the football team she couldn't stop laughing, because it was too funny, the guy who prevented me from going to prison, again, was the guy I was now helping.

But I was more wondering why she cared about my match. I replied. "Okay, we won."

She smiled, "Oh, that is good. I'm proud of you."

I pulled in my bottom lip and stared. This was not what I needed and people were weird, I sighed. "I only ran around and stuff."

She gave me an odd look and said, "At least you are being paid for it. I wished I could be paid for sitting in this house."

Right, because you're lazy. "I supposed that would be the dream job, huh?"

She scowled like she smelled something foul and shook her head. "Nah, I just want something... convenient."

Translation, she wanted to be lazy, I understood her plight for little work. It was the same for me. Hey, maybe we were not so different. "Hopefully you find it. I'm going to bed."