Soccer Meet Cheer

The Scarlet Letter

~Alex~

My alarm could only let out a single beep before my arm flew to shut it off. I quickly glanced at the boy I shared the bed with, only to see him fast asleep, sprawled out like a contortionist. I smiled at the sight before sneaking out from under the covers and heading to the bathroom.

Aiden had a nightmare Friday night, which prompted him to sleep in my bed for the remainder of the weekend, and probably for the foreseeable future. Not that I minded it; I often slept better with him despite my sore limbs saying otherwise. Sharing a twin sized bed with a blanket hog of a 5 year old boy is about as uncomfortable as you'd think.

I started the shower as I pulled my hair out of my destroyed bun, letting my rats nest loose. "Ugh, I need a haircut." I mumbled as I attempted to comb through my overgrown mane. Having long hair seemed nice in theory, but I was truly missing the days where pulling loose hair from my asscrack wasn't a regular occurrence.

As I stripped, my eyes immediately landed on the bruise on my ribs. It had faded from a dark purple to a sickly yellowish-green that covered the right side of my torso. I stared at it in the mirror for a moment, making the churning in my stomach worse the longer I looked. I hated his mark on me.

I took my time in the shower as I let the hot water loosen the knots in my body; knots that would inevitably tighten back up by the end of the day. I then quickly threw on a robe and finished my routine before walking back into my room to wake Aiden up. Once he was up, I began packing his bags.

"You excited for soccer practice, Little Man?" I asked as I zipped his soccer bag. Today was his first day of peewee soccer, and it was the only thing he'd been talking about the entire weekend.

"Oh yeahhh!" he smiled as he pulled his cheap Ronaldo jersey over his head.

I got him the jersey for his birthday a few months ago, and he practically lived in it for a month before I forced him to start wearing other clothes. The boy barely knew anything past the fundamentals of soccer, let alone any players other than Messi and Ronaldo, but apparently growing up seeing my passion for the sport was enough to get him to love it too.

As I waited for him to finish getting ready for the day, I sat on my bed and stared at the new contact in my phone.

Kristen Adams

I had contemplated texting her over the weekend, but I couldn't think of anything to say. I didn't want it to be just another dry conversation that takes all weekend to finish just because we both took 3 hours to respond to each text. I wanted to captivate her— make her interested in the conversation. But alas, I was a shit texter; I was far better with my words in person.

I sighed as I turned off my phone and followed Aiden down the stairs. There was a figure bent over the coffee maker as we entered the kitchen, so I gave Aiden a nudge to head for the car.

"So my own son is off limits to me too?" the woman snarked as the front door shut behind him.

"If you can even call him that." I mumbled as I grabbed his lunch box out of the fridge.

"You are aware that I birthed him right?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Please, that's the only motherly thing you've ever done for him." I said with a laugh. I wish I meant it as an exaggeration, but it was true; as soon as she got released from the hospital, he was dumped on me, a 12-year-old.

She rolled her eyes, "It's too early for this. Let me enjoy my morning" she dismissed before sitting on the couch, avoiding my fathers spot.

I clenched my jaw, "Yes, because I'm the bad guy..." I mumbled to myself before leaving the house.