Seeing in Color

Nine

"A Good Samurai?"

He looked at me, confused. "Seriously? You've never heard of the Good Samaritan?"

I shook my head, wincing as it irritated my cut.

Will gave me a bewildered look. "Samson or Goliath? The Twelve Disciples?"

"Oh, I've heard of Noah and his boat full of animals. That must have smelled a lot."

"Have you ever even read the Bible? Just once?" He asked, looking really annoyed.

I held up my hands. "Um, I'm atheist."

Will shrugged and placed the Band Aid on my forehead, then waved for me to leave. "Get out of here, you pagan."

I laughed at his joke and glanced at the clock.

Shoot. If I was really going to do what I planned to do, then I'd have to run.

Making my way out of the school and to the lacrosse field outside, I spotted my brother and ran to him.

After a slap on the head from a 'stray' ball from Preston's stick, I made up my mind for sure.

I was going to try out for the team.

After sneaking behind the bleachers where I had made so many memories, both with my friends making smoke bombs and with Miranda making out, I changed into my workout clothes and strapped arm pads on my elbows. I realized Travis would see me and possibly stop me, so I slid on a helmet that was abandoned on the bleachers. Fortunately, it hadn't been used in a while, so it smelled decent.

Needless to say, no one recognized me. Travis looked right past me as I made my way to the line.

My turn was coming, and my heart raced. I noticed out of the corner of my eye a blonde girl on the bleachers reading a book. I turned my head to take a look at her, one of the only girls not jumping around cheering for their boyfriends. She wore skinny jeans with grey Converse and a grey V-neck. A black-haired boy passed her with the infamous Thalia Grace and her gang of archery-loving girls. He blushed and glanced at her, quickly sitting several feet away, glancing at her. His cousin was chatting with her friends and cheering for a muscular girl headed for the field.

Guess girls were allowed on the team now. Last year it started an uproar.

I didn't realize it was my turn until there was nothing but grass and a pile of white rubber balls at my feet. I looked ahead of me and saw the goal and goalie. The coach yelled a few words I didn't comprehend, then blew the whistle.

My reflexes kicked in, and I scooped up the ball and flicked the long stick, the ball a blur of white. It hit the net, and I swear that small sound echoed across the field. Preston frowned, and his friends shrugged it off. Johnson sighed and readied himself again.

I went again. Johnson didn't even have time to lift his stick.

Preston clenched his fists. His buddies froze. Travis raised an eyebrow. Coach was stunned.

I went three more times, and Johnson didn't stand a chance. He was faster the last couple of times.

Finally, I picked up the ball one more time. Just as I was about to throw it, I twisted my body and threw it jumping.

It broke the net.

The crowd went silent. Preston's eyes nearly exploded. Coach's jaw and clipboard fell to the ground. Thalia and her girlfriends were speechless, their mouths wide open. Even the girl with the book glanced up, a look of surprise on her face. The black-haired boy, I'm pretty sure his name was Percy Jackson, stood up and broke the silence, cheering and clapping.

A few boys on the team whooped, patting me on the back.

"Hey you!" The coach stepped onto the field and walked towards me. "Who in the hell are you, and where were you last year?"

I glanced at my brother. He stood stunned a few feet away, dropping his stick and gaping.

Then I removed my helmet. A gasp went through the field and the bleachers, and Preston's face turned white as a ghost.

"Stoll," I smirked, giving Preston a glare and flashing my brother a 'I'll explain later' look. "Connor Stoll."

The coach laughed slightly, slapping me on the back and waving his hand around the field at our loosely-huddled group. "Where were you last year?"

"Photography class, sir," I said, flustering slightly as a laugh went around. "It was just a hobby, sir."

"Don't call me sir," Coach said, patting me one last time on the back. "Call me Coach. You've made the team, son."

Travis gave me an excited and proud look, and a few girls on the bleachers giggled with each other and pointed several times at me. One gave me an air kiss.

I never felt so happy in my whole life.

That is, until I saw Preston's face.

Oh crap.

What have I done?