act naturally | alan bosley x y/n

~beginnings~

My car slowed down and stopped in the tiny parking lot. I put the car in park, taking a deep breath to brace myself for what was to come. After reassuring myself, I opened my door and stepped outside.

I heard the sounds of yelling and crashing as I looked over towards the small field. Football practice was well in session and Coach Yoast watched the boys with a close eye.

I started making my way towards Coach Yoast, careful to avoid stepping in big spots of mud in the grass. Coach Yoast looked up from the play currently in action and over at me. I gave him a small smile and a wave, hoping maybe that would make his demeanor a little less intimidating than usual.

Next to us, two boys started making a ruckus and yelling at each other.

"Coach, that was clearly a holding," one of the boys said, looking very upset.

"No way! Coach, he's just trying to get penalties called against me," said the other, who I recognized to be Ray Budds. I realized I remembered him from my homeroom last year. He was not exactly the nicest person in the world, to say the least.

"I don't wanna hear it. Get back to your spots and run the play again," Coach Yoast said to the boys. They both rolled their eyes and shot each other a quick glare before sulking back to their spots.

"Hello Coach Yoast," I said. He turned to me with a small smile on his face.

"Hello Mrs. L/N, is it?" he asked, to which I nodded my head and smiled.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he continued.

"Well, actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you about maybe being the team's journalist and photographer this year? See, the district really wanted to emphasize the team this year, with it being integrated now and all. They were looking for someone to write reports about the team for the papers and I guess Mr. (principal's name) heard about my writing skills from some of my past English teachers and was wanting me to come down here today and see what you thought." I told him. I had long rehearsed this in my car, pretty much the whole way to the field. Coach Yoast had an interested look on his face.

"Hmm, for the papers you say?" he asked, to which I gave a nod yes, which seemed to make him happy.

"Well I wouldn't mind having a little publicity for the team. You're in. Welcome to the Titans." Coach Yoast, reaching his hand out to shake mine.

My face lit up with excitement and, partly, relief. I reached to shake his hand and smiled at him.

"Would you mind if I stayed for the rest of this practice to take some notes?" I asked.

"Be my guest," Coach Yoast responded. I walked a little bit behind him and pulled out my notepad I had stuffed in my bag and a pen.

"So you're gonna be our reporter or whatever?" I heard a voice say next to me. I looked over to see a little girl with the most blonde and curly hair you've ever seen.

I laughed and said, "Yeah." The girl gave me a look of inspection.

"Hm. Well, good luck. These boys are crazy," the girl told me with the maturity of a girl in her twenties. I laughed to myself and smiled at her.

"Thanks. What's your name?" I asked her.

"I'm Sheryl. Coach Yoast is my dad." She answered with a proud look on her face.

"Nice to meet you Sheryl. I'm Y/N." I said with a smile. Sheryl smiled a little bit and turned back around to face the field.

"Come on, Kurt, don't let Ray back you down like that," Sheryl yelled, which surprised me a little. "You're twice his size," she continued, which made me laugh a bit.

"UGHHHHHH! What are they doing? If they keep playing like that, we'll lose every game," Sheryl yelled out. I had to cover my mouth to stifle a laugh. This little girl really was a fireball.

"Well, I didn't think that was so bad," Coach Yoast responded to his, clearly distressed, daughter. Coach Yoast then blew his whistle and the boys stopped what they were doing and started talking to each other.

I looked up to see Gerry Bertier, who I recognized from passing in the hallway and other girls' conversations, walking towards Coach Yoast and taking off his helmet.

"Looks good, Gerry. I can see you been working," Coach Yoast told a very sweaty Gerry.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot Coach. Um, listen, with the schools integrating and all, some of the guys are worried about losing their starting positions," Gerry said to Coach Yoast, to which I rolled my eyes. Our school is the very first in our district to be integrating, and that's what he's thinking about?

"Well, that's something we're just gonna have to figure out, but you don't worry about that now. You just keep at it. All right?" Coach Yoast said to Gerry.

"Yes, Coach," Gerry responded, catching a glimpse over at me. For a mere second, his face flashed with confusion and then recognition. Gerry then started to walk away back towards his buddies on the field.

I was making note of this interaction, sure to include the boys' anxiety of losing their position, when I heard someone yelling in the distance. I looked up to see Alan Bosley, who I knew from my English class last year, running down the steps. Alan and I had never really interacted much, but he was much nicer than most of the other guys on the football team that I knew of.

"Hey guys! Guys! It's comin' down! It's comin' down at the store," Alan said now at the fence, "They wanna burn the place up cause that colored kid got shot."

The team took off running to join in on the commotion, much to Coach Yoast's dismay.

"Oh dear god," I whispered under my breath as I watched the boys run off.

"Hey! Hey!" Coach Yoast started yelling at the boys, but it was no use.

"Coach?" Sheryl asked her dad, clearly concerned.

"You just get Sheryl to the school now, Herb," Coach Yoast said to the assistant coach, "Miss L/N, come with me."

I looked at him, my eyes wide, hoping he didn't expect me to run. I ran alongside him until we made a stop at a blue truck. He ran over to the driver's side and hopped in. I followed his lead and jumped in the passenger's seat, slamming the door shut. Coach Yoast took off like a rocket as I tried to buckle my seatbelt.

"Those damn boys, always getting themselves into trouble," Coach Yoast muttered furiously to himself.

I looked in front of the truck to see a large crowd of people gathered around, protesting and screaming. I finally spotted the boys as Coach Yoast sped up and pulled up right in front of them, cutting them off their path.

I jolted forward at the sudden stop of the truck and looked over to see the boys out of breath, staring at their coach. Some of them quickly glanced over at me in the passenger's seat.

"Get in the truck. Gerry, Alan, Ray, if you ever want to play for me again, get in the truck now," Coast Yoast demanded. The boys' faces changed to a look of submission, clearly upset at the suggestion of never playing for Coach Yoast again.

Gerry jerked his head over to the side, gesturing to the guys to get in the back of the truck, with a disappointed look on his face. They all disappeared and I felt the truck shake as they all got in the back.

Coach Yoast shook his head and sped off back in the direction of the school.