Bigger Boys & Stolen Sweethearts - Alex Turner

23. Leave Before The Lights Come On

Once I'd hit week three of my post-getting dumped depression, Jamie dragged me out at the arse crack of dawn to practice football with him on the oval before school. He said it was time I 'stopped being a miserable bastard' and guided myself back into normal life. To be fair, I'd been quite the boring friend ever since me break up. I guessed if the people around me were telling me so, it was time I built myself back up and moved on. Locking myself away in my room was never going to bring her back anyway.

Jamie was a devote football fan, and played for one of the clubs in our area. I was never too great at it but I weren't bad. Each of us had a sport we sort of excelled at over each other. Jamie was football, I was basketball, Nick were cricket and Matt was boxing by a long shot. As I've mentioned before, Matt was probably the only lad in our year that had developed arm muscles. The rest of us were lean at best.

Practicing with Jamie though, meant I could be in the school Phys-Ed uniform for the day, and that was always a pro. Only con was if I weren't wearing trackies, me white legs would freeze until my balls shrunk. Jamie said: "stop being a pussy and just run, that'll keep you warm."

He wanted to practice being goalie and had me dribbling the ball around and then kicking it at him from different angles and penalty shots and all that. We were there for hours. School started at nine, Jamie made us get there five thirty in the morning when shit all was visible. Something about heightening his other senses.

"Jamie this is so fucking stupid we've been 'ere for two hours can we be done?" I whined, halfway across the field from him as he eagerly waited in the goals, bent over and gloved hands at the ready.

"No!" Jamie said, pulling a face at me. "It's not stupid it's practice you wanker! Kick the ball!"

"Fucks sake," I muttered under my breath. I was out of stamina to say the least. Running back and forth all morning had taken it all out of me. Not to mention I was sweating like mad. My hair was all a mess now and looked gelled from the amount of fucking sweat I had produced.

Against my wills, I dribbled the ball down the pitch towards Jamie and kicked it at him, watching as he dived for it and caught it before it got through the poles.

"Oh come on Al that was shite!" Jamie said as he stood up off the ground with the ball in his hands.

"I have no energy," I complained, putting my hands on my hips and breathing hard.

"Oh wait really?" Jamie said.

I nodded, "yeah, I've a stitch."

"Oh boo-hoo," Jamie mocked.

"Fuck off," I chuckled, flipping him off. He then booted the ball over to me, almost hitting me square in the face. "Alright then, calm down temper temper," I said, having caught the ball in my hands. "Remember who's doing who a favour."

"Yer right, I'm so grateful for ya," Jamie said and rolled his eyes. He truly gave no fucks. I loved that about him.

I walked back down the pitch and placed the ball on the ground. Once again running it down to the goals and this time booted it hard straight through the goals and sent it down the other end of the oval.

"Oh nice one Al!" Jamie said grumpily.

"Yeah it was, yer just shit at keeping goals," I teased.

"You're just shit at keeping goals," Jamie mimicked me in a high pitched voice. He looked over his shoulder, both of us turning our attention to the ball as it slowly rolled to a stop a good hundred metres away. "You're getting that," Jamie said to me.