According to Plan

Chapter 10

"Welcome back, ladies," coach Henry echoed through the bleachers bright and early Monday morning.

I dragged myself to sit beside some kid, ignoring the wicked gaze coach shot my way for being late.

"Our first game is this Wednesday against camp Coraline. The Coraline Jets are not very good, but who knows, maybe they've improved since last year. So that's no excuse to slack. Let's show them that the Anderson Wolves have got it down pat, now hop to it boys! Show me what you got!"

Everyone jumped off the bleachers and I sluggishly dragged myself down to the gatorade stand.

The sun beat mercilessly against my flesh as I lay, helpless, on the burning bleachers, handing out drinks to those who came. I noticed Cameron DiMarco... wow, what a throw! His hand was like a space jet, and that speed! I guess his looks weren't the only bonus to him. Then suddenly I noticed him coming my way.

I swallowed and stuck out a cup of gatorade, "drink?"

He took it joyfully and guzzled it down, "so you're never going to play, or what?"

I shrugged and bit down on my lip, "I guess i'm just not good enough."

He shook his head, "don't say that, man. You can do it, just keep trying, alright?"

I nodded, "yeah, I guess."

"DiMarco!" Coach Henry belted, "get your butt back out here! Your teams dying!"

"Catch ya later," he waved and tossed me the cup. Which I, ever so clumsilly, fumbeled and dropped.

The day went by as usual; lunch and dinner in the mess hall, got pushed around by Byron, and listened to Billy complain some more.

Night time fell and all the boys were either up to some michief (since I could hear Reese screaming far off in the distance) or taking a shower. I snuck out with Chad's football in hand and ran to the football field where I would be alone. They hadn't put away the practice equipment yet. Good.

"Okay, Stella," I whispered, "you can do this."

Determined, I weaved through the cones, tripped twice. Despite the fact that I wasn't wearing my brother's oversized football gear, I was still terrible.

"Ugh!" I groaned and knocked over a pylon. I moved on to the tires, trying to jump through them, yet I failed again and face planted.

Grabbing a football, I decided to work on my throwing technique, which was completely lowsy.

I threw the ball at the ground in frustration and it rechocheted and bounced right back, dinging me in the face.

"Stupid football! Who needs this sport anyway!" I screamed.

"Try holding the ball like this," a familiar voice spoke behind me. His voice was deep, yet smooth like silk.

I yelped and backed away, only to find Cameron DiMarco staring back at me. His eyes were that same silver mystery, surrounded by his astonishing features and muscular, yet boyish, frame. His ash brown hair, tosseled above him, glinted ever so slightly off the arrays of the moonlight above.

My heart beat sped up, "what are you doing here?"

He shrugged, "I come here sometimes to think."

My brows rose, "oh, sorry, I didn't mean to invade."

"Dude, it's fine. Do you want to play football or not?"

I nodded desperately.

He clung on to the end of the football his last two fingers gripped between the lace and his large hand holding the ball gingerly. Then with a thrust of his arm, the ball flew beyond the field and landed on the opposite end.

"Get it?"

My mouth fell open, "how do you even throw that far?"

He grinned, "why do you think my nickname's 'the golden arm'?"

I laughed and ran for the ball. Trying, yet failing once again.

He shook his head, "dude, it's 'cause of your stance."

I looked down at my feet, "what's wrong with my stance?"

"You're standing like a ballet dancer, man! Widen your stance, stand like a man!"

I nodded and stood like a man.

He shoved me from behind, hard, and I flew to the ground.

"Oh, sorry man, didn't know you were that weak," he laughed.

"What was that for?!"

"Well, I gotta test your stance. You have to be able to take a hit," he instructed

I nodded, sighed, then got back up to my feet, "okay, try again."

Again, he knocked me down with just a shove of his hand.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he laughed.

I scowled and got back to my feet, gripping my toes in the strands of grass, "again!"

And again, he knocked me over, "had enough yet?"

He offered me a hand and pulled me up. I forced back the tears of frustration.

"Dude... take it easy. Now let me show you. Lower your arms like this," he said, "not too close to your body but not too far out. You want to be able to take the hit. And your feet, firm grip to the ground, but be ready to bounce on your toes for an attack or to sprint."

"Oh," I raised a brow.

"So the trick isn't to take the hit, it's to dodge it. Escape from it. But if you have to take a hit, that's when your stance comes in handy."

I nodded and gritted my teeth, ready to bounce on my toes or manouever around the strike, "again."

Quickly, he shoved his hand towards me and I bounced out of the way, manouevering past his hand.

He smiled, "you're getting the hang of it. Now you just gotta try and dodge a full-on attack, instead of just a hand."

I lit up, finally I could accomplish something! I threw my arms around him, "thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"GAAAH!" Cameron shouted and pushed me away, knocking me to the grass, "Steve, never hug me again! Got that, man?!"

I bit down on my lip and cleared my throat, "yea, sorry."

He shook his head, "just meet me back here tomorrow night. We got a lot to work on."

He walked away, obviously still weirded out by my surprise hug. I leaned back in the grass and gazed at the stars.

I couldn't help but smile, and not just because of his generosity.. but just become of... him.