According to Plan

Chapter 8

I gagged. Spitting out gobs of toilet water and heaving in air. The boys were busily laughing and snapping pictures while Billy's face was hidden by his hands. My wig was beginning to slip off and a strand of dark brown hair lingered infront of my face. Quickly, I tucked it underneath and marched out of the restroom with whatever dignity I had left.

"Ugh!" I screamed in pure fury as I knocked over the overspilling trash can in dorm 3A.

"You alright there, bud?" someone asked.

I thought the room was empty. But I looked up, and Mr. shirtless who slept on my bottom bunk stood firmly in sight.

My face felt hot as I swallowed, which was probably a bad choice considering the amount of toilet water that was just in my mouth.

"No..." I said, "does he always have to be a jerk like that?"

He laughed and slid on a shirt, "that's Byron Bosniac for you. It's better to stay on his good side."

"Oh," I said. It was probably him who hung Reese on the hook earlier, too.

"I'm Cameron by the way. Cameron DiMarco."

I bit down on my lip, "Stella."

He raised a brow, "what?"

My eyes popped open and I cleared my throat, "ahem, I mean Steve, dude. Stella is my girl's name."

He gave me a look and tossed some cleets and a helmet in his duffle bag, "and why do I care what her name is?"

I shrugged, "I just thought you'd like to know.. I mean, don't you got a girl?"

He chuckled and tossed me a green jersey, "practice is in 5 minutes. You better hurry, man."

I scowled. That wasn't a rhetorical question!

"Great," I said to myself as I watched him leave, "first practice and I smell like a toilet bowl." I looked at the Axe cologne I'd left on Billy's bed and winced, "looks like I'm gonna have to shower in a can.."

"Hello, gentlemen!" Coach Henry shouted into the bleachers as he spat black onto the grass, "now today y'all will be seperated into team A and team B. Now what does that mean? Team A means ya got what it takes to play football. Team B?" he chortled, "I'll let your mind wander. Now everybody line up!"

All in all, there were about 110 guys at the camp. I was labeled number 52 and stuck in a line with a bunch of skinny looking guys; Billy included. Chad's football gear was a little wonky on me. The helmet was far too big, and so was everything else. So when coach demanded running to the other end of the field and back, I tripped over my own cleats more times than I could count.

"Hustle, boys!" Coach Henry shouted as we weaved through a bunch of cones.

I was already dead on the second cone. I laid, sprawled, in the grass staring at the sky, sucking in dry heaves.

I signed up for football. Not to torture myself... what is all this?

Across the field, I saw Reese lying flat on the ground, sucking on a puffer.

Someone yanked me up by my helmet and I stumbeled to my feet.

"You're a weak one, huh?" coach smiled, amused.

I rolled my eyes, barely able to breathe.... this stupid corset!

He chuckled darkly, "I'd like to see how you do in the tackles."

"Th-the what?!" I stuttered as he grinned.

"Okay ladies!" he hollered, "pick a partner and show me what you got! Knock 'em to the ground!"

"Billy!" I shouted over the crowd. There's no way I'm taking any chances and breaking any bones. Billy would go easy on me..

I felt someone tap me from behind. It was Reese. Oh good, someone I could easily take down.

I rubbed my hands together in anticipation, "you sure, Reese?"

"Well," he replied in his nasally tone, "the last time I went with a bigger guy, he dislodged my jaw, fractured my nose, and dislocated my shoulder. But then again, I did leave my gear back in the dorm that time."

I snorted.. this would be a piece of cake. I perfected my stance and widened my arms. The coach blew the whistle.

Reese, come to momma!

We charged at eachother and before I knew it, I was flying back to the ground and landed in a thud, the wind knocked out of my lungs.

I could hear Reese celebrating about his first tackle while I winced in writhing agony.

Man... when did I get so weak?!