Stories From 2011 (Dear Players, What's Mine, Queen Bee)

What's Mine Is Yours...Unfortunately

~James~

I run.

My cleats dig into the freshly cut grass. I hear the thud as the people fall around me, but I don’t hear anything else. I block out the excited screams. I block out the angry yells and the growls directed my way. I only concentrate on one thing. I only have one goal.

And so I run faster; my legs extending as much as they can. I take long, quick strides; I push myself beyond my limit. Just a few more feet I think. Then victory will be mine. Then, I’ll be free.

The dirt flies up around me as my cleats dig harder into the ground; as I push more. Then with one last stride and a twirl to avoid being tackled I reach my mark. I throw the carefully cradled football from my arms and onto the ground. The “oomph” of the ball giving me a feeling of satisfaction like no other.

The crowd goes wild as I snap back into reality. For once I hear the screams. I hear the screams of my victory; my team's victory. We won.

Everything becomes clear again as my team surrounds me chanting my name. And I smile and laugh and hug them. We’re closer now, closer than ever, to reaching the finals. And it’s all thanks to me.

“Party at my place?” Josh asks me.

He’s grinning and waggling his eyebrows. We both know that since I scored the winning touchdown I would be getting lucky tonight. Since he was the one who passed the ball to me, a slick perfect spiral, he would be getting lucky too.

I smile animatedly ready to say something along the lines of “Hell yeah!” but then frown as I remember my mother’s words and the promise I made her.

“Nah, man,” I say grudgingly.

“Well why not? You know Jessica over there has been dying to congratulate you.”

I laugh. My friend really had a one track mind.

“Can’t bro, family sh*t.”

“Well too bad. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah sure.” I say and with that I turn around from the crowd and start making my way home.

Along the way several people stop to congratulate me and I smile politely in return or offer them the “It was nothing” spiel. Then I keep walking. Normally I would have gotten home by now. Actually, that’s not true. Normally, I would be partying right now, but that’s beside the point.  What I mean to say is that normally I would be in my sleek red and black 2011 Porsche 911 GT3 RS 4.0. But right now it’s at the shop. I swear my mom picks the worst days for me to come home.

So I walk, lost in my own anger and thoughts, on the cold barren streets. I’m alone and the darkness surrounds me. I can’t help, but feel a little nervous; a little anxious to get somewhere with a fill of light. But my annoyance keeps my senses from sharpening and I remain clouded and unaware.

I take long quick strides even though I don’t want to get home quickly, but I decided it would be…safer to linger in places not heavily forested and dark; in places where thugs are waiting for their next victim and aren’t afraid if blood is shed.

This is the bad part of town. This is where the poor and orphaned live. This is where most of the crimes happen and where the criminals are waiting. This is where the criminals are waiting for a guy like me; someone they can kidnap for a million dollar ransom.

With so many thoughts running in my head it’s no surprise I don’t notice the speeding car coming in my direction until I turn around. By then the car’s really close and I’m too startled, dumbfounded even, to move. I’m frozen on the spot.