Grody

(OMIGOD... so, i found this crumbled up piece of paper in an old binder this morning. It was something i wrote for Cheyenne a long time ago-i think it was around our birthdays last year when i wrote her a bunch of stories in a notebook for a gift-and i think it's probably one of the cutest things i've written. I'm going to use a lot of it in the story below, but i will add and change some things here and there. I'm always finding new drafts hidden in notebooks or under my TV set. Hardly ever do i find one that's decent to post. And, i'm using another old idea. I explained earlier that playing football was much more of a high school thing than it would be for a group of musicians in the 80s. So, i'm transferring it here. Sorry, Cheyenne. But, hey, you get the joy and pleasure of reading it again! Oh, and i promise, i'm not as big as a clutz as i make myself sound in this story. I'm actually decently coordinated and fairly good at sports. The first time i wrote this, it was Cheyenne who was the one who got hurt. But, i decided it would be me this time because i had an idea for Hobbs that would work out better.)

Rule 9: Don't allow The Ex to talk to you for longer than two minutes during the initial three-month cooling-off period. You must not be his friend.

{Apparently, this is part of the "girl code". I found it. I didn't write it. So don't ask me questions. Some girls are just stupid. I only supplied it here because i thought it sort of went along with this story.}

Usually, Star slept in on weekends. There was nothing like waking up, looking over at the alarm clock to see the bright red 8:00 A.M. on the screen, then snuggling back beneath the blanket when she remembered it was Saturday: the warm blanket covering every inch of skin; the pillow welcoming her back down; closing her eyes.

It was perfect. Blissful.

Until someone dove on top of the bed and started jumping and yelling.

"Wake up! You going to sleep all day?"

"Quit!" she muttered. "Mom!"

"You're wasting the day," David said.

Another voice laughed; someone who was not her brother. She pulled the covers back, coherence creeping in now. Michael was across the room, standing with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. This wasn't the first time she woke up to find Michael in her house, though usually not in her room.

"What do you want?" she said, her voice hoarse with sleep.

"We don't want you to waste your life sleeping," David said, pinching her cheek.

She swatted at his hand but she was too slow and too tired. "I'd rather sleep."

"We'll make you breakfast," David sang.

Thinking about it, she rubbed the haze from her eyes. "What will you make?"

David glanced over at Michael. "What are you going to make?"

"Me?" Michael raised a brow. "Like i can cook."

"Seriously, why do you care if i sleep?"

Michael stepped closer. "He wants you to play football with us today."

Now it was her turn to raise her brow. "Football?"

"We're short a player," David said.

"David, i don't even know how to play football!"

"Well," David said, "neither does Michael. So no big deal."

Michael threw something at David, which David caught. Star's face went fire hot when she realized what it was. Her bra! She jumped out of bed and snatched it from David's hands, his face blank as he stared at it. She shoved it in her hamper, out of sight.

"Good, you're up," David said. "Let's make breakfast and hit the field!" He wove his arm around her shoulders and shoved her out the bedroom door.

"I hate you," she muttered under her breath.

David put her in a headlock and ran his knuckles through her hair. "Well, I love you!"

"Mom!"

Their mother poked her head down the hall. "David, let your sister go."

David laughed, lightening his grip. "Fine."

They headed into the kitchen. Their dad was there finishing up a cup of coffee. He set the empty cup in the sink and turned to them. "David, what did i tell you about annoying your sisters?"

David rolled his eyes. "Yeah, i get it."

"Thanks," Star whispered to her father as he disappeared into the living room.

Star sat at the table in the corner of the kitchen. "Now, what are you making me?"

David opened various cupboards, then the refrigerator. "If i make you breakfast, you'll play football?"

She groaned. "Do i have to do anything?"

"Just look tough," he said.

"Fine." She sighed. "Cheese omelet."

"Michael, grab a bowl and a spoon," David instructed as he disappeared into the pantry.

Michael went to the cupboard and pulled a red plastic bowl out, then slid the silverware drawer open. He sat down across from Star at the table. "I don't know what he's doing," he said apologetically, then slid the bowl in front of her.

David came out with a box of Sugar Crisps in his hand. He grabbed the milk on the way to the table. He filled her bowl with cereal, then drowned it in milk. He gestured to it with a flourish of his hand. "Your cheese omelet, milady."

"This? This is my cheese omelet?"

"As close as i can get." He gave her a rough pat on the back. "Eat up. We have armies to conquer. I'm going to suit up." He left the kitchen.

Star took a bite of Sugar Crisp. "How can you voluntarily spend time with him?" she said to Michael.

He shrugged. "He's a moron, so I look cool standing next to him."

Star laughed, forgetting her mouth full of food. She covered it quickly with her hand. After swallowing she said, "That's a good one."

He smiled, clearly flattered and maybe a little surprised with his quick wit. "Well, thanks."

For a minute there, she'd almost forgotten that he had a crush on Cheyenne. Was it wrong to flirt with him? Did that make her a traitor? Yeah, but how could she not talk to him? He was over all the time.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a little pinch of guilt sitting here with him right now when Cheyenne was probably at home by herself.

Star watched him. His neon blue eyes were staring out the window at the backyard. He propped his chin in his hand. He looked tired.

"Ready?" David walked in, zipped up his jacket, then rubbed his hands together anxiously. "You're not done with your omelet yet?"

She scowled. "Very funny."

♥♥♥

Cheyenne was not a football player. She did not do sports, period, but here she was, on the school football field at nine on a Saturday morning. Just what was she thinking when she agreed to come to this thing? The field reminded her of Kevin and all the practices and games he made her watch. What he didn't know was that Cheyenne always sat in the very back row of bleachers for the first twenty minutes then disappeared to the concessions until the last thirty minutes of the game. So, answer: She hadn't been thinking.

No, Michael Fox had the ability to stop her synapses from firing, which was why she was sitting on the grass on a football field in the freezing cold. Well, five degrees above freezing, if you wanted to be technical.

As soon as she noticed Michael's Vista Cruiser pull into the parking lot, her brain did that funny stop-start thing again and the cold air was forgotten. She could see David sitting in the passenger seat through the windshield.

They parked right next to Dean's truck as Star and Michael and David piled out.

Cheyenne ran up to the fence and waited for Michael as he walked over, his breath puffing out in front of him.

"Hey," he said, unlatching the gate on the fence. "You came after all."

She smiled. "You sound surprised."

"I am." He paused, glancing to the right. "Hey, give me a second? I have to go tell Hobbs how dumb he looks in blue."

Hobbs strolled up the field with a few other guys. "All right. I'll wait here."

"Cool. Just two seconds." He walked off.

Feeling self-conscious standing by herself on a football field, Cheyenne went through the still-opened gate hoping to catch Star. Was she going to play today? Cheyenne hoped not, since, by the looks of it, she was the only other girl there.

Following the sidewalk, Cheyenne headed down to the parking lot and noticed Star talking to Dean. Cheyenne frowned, then shook her head. She crossed her arms over her chest. Even from the distance, Cheyenne could see Star's lower lip shivering from the chill air.

Thankfully, the snow had melted yesterday; the ground was still a bit damp from it. Probably it'd snow again soon, but at least the worst of the winter seemed to be over. March was right around the corner, and Cheyenne always thought of it as a signal spring would be soon to follow.

Before reaching the cars, Cheyenne glanced at her watch. Star had been talking to Dean for more than two minutes. She walked over. "Dean, you wouldn't mind if i stole Star, would you?"

Dean shook his head. "I'll call you later," he said to Star. Star didn't say anything. When Dean drove off, Cheyenne turned to her friend. "What did he say?"

Star looked apologetic. "It's hard to get away from him when he starts talking."

"Well, you have to try harder, otherwise you won't get over him. What did he say?"

"To ask me if i've seen his drum sticks."

Cheyenne suppressed a laugh. "Drumsticks?"

"Yes." Star rolled her eyes. "I know. It's so lame. But they're his favorite sticks and i guess they were expensive. He hadn't seen 'em in a few weeks and thought maybe he'd left 'em at my house or something." She shrugged.

♥♥♥

"I don't get geometry," Star said.

Kayla nodded at all the right intervals. She was trying to focus on what Star was saying, but it was hard to listen to her and watch Hobbs at the same time. He was the class clown in school, but here, on the football field, he was all business and it was kind of attractive, the way he commanded the game and poked fun at the other team when they fumbled.

Someone threw the ball to him. He scooped it out of the air effortlessly and started running toward her. Was she supposed to be doing something? Defending the goal? The rules were still kind of fuzzy. She put her hands up, since that seemed like a logical thing to do.

And then...

Wham!

Something barreled into her and she went down, her foot catching a depression in the ground. Pain stretched in her ankle and shot up her leg. She winced, rolling over, trying to bite her lip so she didn't scream like a little baby. The first five seconds were the most brutal, but the longer she bit her lip, the more the pain in her ankle subsided until it was a dull, throbbing ache. Her whole back was sopping and muddy from the wet grass. She sat up.

"Kayla!" Star shouted, not expecting what just happened.

Feet pounded on the ground as everyone ran over to her.

"I'm okay." She managed to squeak out.

"Can you get up?" Hobbs asked.

She nodded. He wrapped his arm around her waist and hoisted her up. She put weight on that foot and the pressure produced a soft throb in her ankle, but she was otherwise okay.

"Tanner," Hobbs said, "what in the hell were you doing?"

Brett Tanner stood off to the side, hands on his hips. "I didn't see her," he said. "Sorry."

He must have been the one who slammed into Kayla. She nodded. "It's okay."

"I'll take you to the hospital," Hobbs said. "Where are your keys?"

"No." Kayla shook her head. "I'm fine. Look, i can move it." She wiggled her foot. "It's not broken or anything. Probably just some ice would make it feel better."

Hobbs pursed his lips and seemed to think this over, then, "All right. I'll drive you home."

She pulled her car keys out of her pocket and handed them over. He wove an arm around her waist and let her lean into him.

"Do you need me for anything?" Star said, following them as Kayla hobbled off the field with Hobb's help.

"No, i'll be okay."

"Call me later then, when you feel up to it."

Hobbs led Kayla to her car. He held the passenger door for her and helped her settle into the seat. He went around to the driver's side and started the car up.

"I'm going to hang out for a while to make sure you're okay. Looks like you're stuck with me for a couple of hours," he said, grinning.

Kayla felt herself smile, despite the stiffness of her ankle. Being stuck with him didn't sound all that bad.