The Zachary Donovan Enigma - (( Watty Awards! ))

The Zachary Donovan Enigma - (17)

Chapter Seventeen

(17)

I wriggled my toes inside my school shoes, trying to work out the cramp. I had been standing behind this tree for at least twenty minutes, watching the gathering in the clearing. No more people had joined the group, and they had just been talking. Talking so loudly it had been hard to distinguish just one voice from the crowd to hear what they were saying - it all just jumbled into one giant cacophony of noise.

I sighed and contemplated going back. This hadn’t turned out as eventful as I had hoped. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but they didn’t seem to be doing anything exciting.

Suddenly a loud whistle pierced the night air, silencing the loud chatter.

“Who’s up for a friendly game of footy?” grinned the man who had introduced Ty, withdrawing his fingers from his mouth. I’d noticed he seemed to be the leader of this group.

There was a chorus of cheers from the rest of the guys and I rolled my eyes. Typical boys.

I turned around to leave, not interested in watching the game. Though, I wouldn’t have minded watching Zach play. Two years ago he’d been the captain of the fifteen and under school AFL team, but there were quite a few heavily built guys in the clearing. The chances of Zach getting snapped were high.

“So, for those new to our little club, these are the rules,” shouted the man over the cheers. The group quietened slightly as the man began to talk. I started edging my way back around the clearing, deciding to head home and hoping I could remember which direction I had come from.

“You may know the usual rules,” said the man, directing his comment towards Ty, “But we have a few of our own.” I passed a curious glance at the clearing as I tried to quietly make my way through a pile of crunchy-looking leaves.

“Extra rule number one,” said the man, holding up a finger. “No biting,” he looked pointedly at Joe, who just grinned back and shrugged as though it couldn’t be helped sometimes.

“No deflating the ball,” he continued, holding up a second finger and shooting a glance at a boy with spiky hair.

I almost laughed, but quickly threw a hand across my mouth to stop myself. What kind of footy did these guys play?

The spiky haired boy held up his hands in defence, “Hey, it was an accident!”

 The man mumbled a “yeah I’m sure,” before announcing the last rule. “And rule number three, no flying above arm reach.”

I frowned and paused in my tracks. ...What? ...Had I heard right?

No flying above arm reach? That couldn’t be right; unless they had jet packs or something I couldn’t see? I decided to find a discrete position in the shadows so as I could see for myself.

I waited patiently from my position behind a gum tree as the boys chose their teams, though the only real indecision was where to put the new guy. The others seemed to already have pre-determined teams. I guessed they’d been playing on those same sides for a while now.

Soon, all the boys had separated into two even teams and were faced off in the middle of the field. There was a lot of playful pre-game taunting that I guessed were private jokes and then the game started as normal; with at least three of the guys getting tackled in the first thirty seconds.

 I struggled to keep up with who had the ball, as it never stayed with the same person for longer than a moment. They worked together pretty damn well and I found my jaw hanging open in astonishment. No wonder they preferred their usual teams. Both sides seemed pretty evenly matched, and it didn’t look like they would get anywhere; until a whistle blew and I caught something shift in the corner of my eye.