- Chapter 7 - "You Should See Him Without a Shirt On." -
Warnings: Nothing really
Third Person POV
Albert and Spot sat watching Race and most of the other boys.
They were playing soccer.
Race was the middle offense player for his team.
Romeo was to his left on offense and Mike was to his right on offense.
Elmer was their left defense.
Tommy boy was their right defense.
Blink was their middle defense.
Boots was their goalie.
On the other team, Henry was their middle offense across from Race.
Mush was their left offense.
Ike was their right offense, across from his twin.
Specs was their left defense.
JoJo was their right defense.
Buttons was their middle defense.
Finch was their goalie.
Race stares at Henry, his foot on the ball.
He smirks, quickly passing the ball to Romeo.
They take off running, Mike with them.
Jack and Davey sit next to Albert, Spot, and Crutchie.
"He's good, isn't he?" Crutchie asks Albert and Spot, a small smile on his face.
Spot nods slightly, both of their eyes still fixated on Race as he ran his hand through his curly hair and tightened the flannel that was around his waist, before he lunged towards the ball when the opposing team kicked it.
"You should see him shirtless." Crutchie comments, leaning his back against the fence behind him.
The boys look at him, their eyes wide.
"What?" Crutchie asks. "I'm only helping their relationship move along." He states.
Jack chuckles.
Davey facepalms, mumbling something about the boys corrupting the innocent Crutchie.
Albert's face was bright red and Spot looked really lost because of Crutchie's comment.
"Race doesn't take both of his shirts off, especially not in front of us." Jack states quietly. "He hates his scars." He mumbles.
Albert and Spot shares looks, but decided now wasn't a good time to ask and that they didn't know them well enough to ask.
"Race," Ike starts, rubbing the temples of his forehead.
Race looks up at him, wiping the sweat off of his forehead.
"You're going to overheat." Ike tells him, a bit concerned.
Race goes to speak up, but he was cut off.
Elmer pulls Race's flannel off from around his waist, dumping water on his head, before handing the flannel back to him.
Race brushes his slightly damp curls out of his face. "Thanks, El." He grumbles, tying his flannel around his waist again.
The boys laugh.
Ike kicks the ball backwards to JoJo.
Race was quickly on guard again.
Jack looks at Albert and Spot, who were still watching Race.
Jack chuckles. "He's played sports for years. Soccer is his favorite." He informs Albert and Spot, looking back at Race. "Second is probably dance or lacrosse."
Spot smiles. He and Albert both dance.
Race runs forward, the ball by his feet.
He dodges Mush, turning past him, and kicking the ball over to Romeo.
Romeo kicks the ball to Mike, who shoots.
The ball narrowly misses Finch, scoring them a goal.
Their team cheers.
Crutchie, Jack, Albert, and Spot clap, like they did for both teams and when they got a goal.
Davey writes down the goal.
"What score are we playing to?" Ike asks, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with his elbow.
Some of the boys share look.
"I don't think we decided that..." Specs mutters, pursing his lips.
Ike facepalms. "Okay, who's winning right now?" He asks Davey.
Davey looks at the score sheet. "Race, Henry, Mike, Elmer, Boots, Tommy boy, and Blink." He answers.
"By how much?" Buttons asks.
"Three goals." Davey answers, looking up at them. "It's eight to five." He informs them.
"Let's call it a game." JoJo suggests. "I'm about to collapse." He mutters.
Mike walks over to him, pulling him into his arms so JoJo could relax a bit.
"Thanks." JoJo mumbles, leaning his back against him.
"I agree." Tommy boy mutters.
Finch chuckles. "Raise your hand if you want a break." He states, raising his hand.
All of the boys raise their hands.
Finch chuckles. "I think it's a good idea to take a break then." He comments.
The boys laugh, all splitting up to either sit down or grab water.
Finch walks over to Tommy boy, sitting down in the grass, his back against the fence, Tommy boy sitting in his lap, his head on his chest.
Race sits down next to Jack and Crutchie, his water bottle in his hands.
"We have school tomorrow." Crutchie mutters, leaning back against the fence like Race was.
Race wipes his mouth, sighing as he puts the cover back on his water bottle. "Sounds great." He mutters.
Crutchie nods.
Jack chuckles at his 'brothers'.
He, Race, and Crutchie were easily three of the closest of their group, with Jack and Crutchie being foster brothers, and Hannah taking Race in after Medda couldn't take him in.
"Hey," Race starts, leaning forward. "Al, Spot,"
Albert smirks, looking at Race. "Did you just call me 'Al'?" He asks.
Race's face turns red.
Jack chuckles. "He has his nicknames for us. I recently found out mine." He explains.
"And you shouldn't have." Race mutters, his hands covering his face.
Jack chuckles.
"It's cute, Racer." Albert tells him, smirking. "I like it."
That didn't help the heat of Race's face. "Anyway..." the boy mutters, trying to cool his face down. "What school do you guys go to?" He asks.
"I'm starting at 'the World High School' tomorrow." Spot answers. "As is Albert." He informs them.
Race and Crutchie share grins.
Albert lived a few neighborhoods from Spot, with his grandmother.
He had a step-mom in Brooklyn, and step-brothers, but he hadn't met them yet.
Jack chuckles at Race and Crutchie. "Race comes here every morning before school so he can walk with us." He explains.
Albert and Spot nod.
"And then like seventy precent of the boys join us on our walk." Race adds, laughing a bit with Crutchie.
Jack nods.
"And I walk with my siblings." Davey mutters, resting his chin on his palm.
Jack chuckles.
"You have siblings?" Spot questions. "Like, more than one?" He asks.
Davey nods. "A twin sister, who is older, and Les, who you met." He explains.
Spot nods.
"Les is wonderful." Albert laughs a bit to himself, looking across the yard.
"Kids generally are." Race responds.
He liked most kids.
Albert nods.
Race found himself drawn to looking at Albert.
This must be why I'm better at offense than defense. I'm better at going for things than stopping them.
Race rolls his eyes at his thoughts, bringing his w to his mouth to take another sip.
1108 Words