Cool Kids [p. parker] || SLOW UPDATES

SEVEN

"Berry!" Coach shouted, making the boy whip his head around. "I'm taking Dickerson out, you're in."

"Fuck," he whispered. Nick stood up anyway, though, as he saw the senior running over to their side. The two boys hi-fived as Nick ran out into the field, and he faintly smiled at hearing his friends and parents cheering his name and number.

"Woo! Go Nick!"

"That's my fucking boy!"

"Go, lucky number seven!"

And then he was in the game, tuning out the shouts and cheers of his teammates on the bench and the people in the stands. First goal he went for, he missed. Nick didn't look at the crowd but rather looked at one of his teammates near him. The guy was glaring at him for missing. Somehow, that was worse – but it made Nick want to score a goal in spite of the guy. So he did, two times actually. But so did Spring Central. By the end of the first 45 minutes, the game was tied 3-3, and Nick had a scrape on his arm from sliding on the ground to get to the soccer ball and kick it to someone else on his team – the ground was rather dry. Marty had gotten to play at the very end of the half, too.

Once half-time started, both teams went to the locker rooms to regroup to talk about the first half and replenish themselves by drinking water or energy drinks. Coach went over the plans for the second half after going over what the team did wrong during the first half. By the time he was done, half-time was over and both teams were back to playing against each other a few minutes later. As the game went on, Marty and Nick sat on the bench again together, and Nick looked back to his friends. With his luck, he caught sight of Peter first who was already looking at him. Nick waved despite the blush forming on his cheeks and Peter waved back.

It was halfway through the second half when both Marty and Nick were back in the game, trying to score since Spring Central had scored another time. Marty got a goal, making the crowd cheer, and both boys were pretty sure they heard Anita scream in excitement. Some minutes later, Nick was running with the ball, about to score. He had a clear shot, too, so he was going to go for it – be a point higher than Spring Central with one minute left – but then someone tripped him and he face planted the dirt. He was about to get up when pain shot through his ankle the same time a couple loud pops were heard.

The player who had tripped him had stomped on it.

"Hey, what the actual fuck, man?!" Marty screamed, running over from his spot in the field. He shoved number 22 on Spring Central's team. The boy was laughing while Nick rolled over on his back and gripped his ankle. "You want me to give you a black eye?!"

"I'd like to see you try," 22 dared as he stepped forward and stopped laughing.

"Try? I don't try, I do-."

"Back it up, boys!" Coach Hex shouted, another player for Midtown coming between Marty and 22 before anything could get physical. Hex bent down beside Nick with a referee. "Kid, how bad is the pain?"

Nick groaned, face scrunched up in pain. "Eight," he forced himself to say.

Coach Hex looked at the referee, who then motioned to another referee to deal with SC's coach and 22. "He probably twisted it when he stomped on it," Hex said.

"Yeah, it's already swollen some, Coach. Can you get up, kid?" The referee asked.

Nick sat up and let go of his ankle. He made a face at seeing that the referee was right. His left ankle was already swollen from getting stomped on. "Maybe with help, I dunno," he said. Tears were in eyes both from embarrassment and pain, and he was trying real hard not to let the tears fall down.

"Milton! Come help Berry, and stop eye-murdering 22," Coach Hex called out for Marty. "Dickerson, you too!"

Both boys raced back over to where they were on the ground, and bent down to let Nick wrap his arms around their shoulders. Marty and Dickerson – who's first name was Richard – wrapped their arms around Nick's waist and stood up, only to not walk when they all looked down see Nick's feet in the air.