Greetings. The following is my first attempt at fanfiction. It focuses on Ralphie Tennelli and Keesha Franklin. The other children are only supporting characters. For you shippers, this story is R/K, with some hints of C/DA and A/P. When I first began writing this story, it was quite personal, I'll admit. It was a form of therapy for me and some of my own problems. However, since then I have grown, and that purpose is no longer needed. However, I still aim to finish it, as...well, I like the story!
Good stories need critical feedback, and I am not about to show this fanfiction to any of my real life friends (they already think I have an MSB fetish). Therefore, serious constructive criticism is welcome and HIGHLY encouraged. If a piece of criticism is legitimate, well thought-out, and considerate of my feelings (it doesn't make me cry), I will answer it at the end of the next chapter I publish. I reserve the right to incorporate your changes, but if I don't, I will explain why.
Anyways, that's enough about me. I now take you to Ralphie Tennelli in his senior year of high school. Enjoy.
October 2004
Walkerville High School, Walkerville, WA
BOOM, shicka shicka, ka-BOOM, shicka shicka, ka-
BOOM, shicka shicka, ka-BOOM, shicka shicka, ka-
The beat of the drum line rang in Ralphie's head as his heart pounded. In the distance, the bright stadium lights made the football field glow. He loved this part. No matter how many games he played, the ecstasy of this moment never grew old.
"Alright guys!" he roared to the line on his left and right. "Ready to kick some Bull Dog ass?"
His teammates roared back at him. He could feel their support coming from all directions, making him invincible.
"LET'S GET 'EM!"
He ran toward the football field at full speed. He could hear 40 footsteps thundering behind him, making him feel like his own feet were causing an earthquake. As he approached the turf, he heard the announcer:
"And here comes the home team, let's hear it for the Walkerville Bog Beast Butterflies!"
Ralphie was the first person to greet the crowd. The cheerleaders spun their glittery pom-poms. The audience cheered and waved their white and red streamers with pride. They stood up for him. They whooped and hollered. They made him feel like a rock star.
"Go Ralphie!" "Knock 'em dead, R!" "We love you R! "RRRRRRR!"
It was heaven. He was amazing. He was a hero. He gave the crowd a big grin, waved his trademark red cap, then turned around to show off the giant red letter "R" on his jersey.
Today was game day.
The Walkerville Butterflies had the ball, so Ralphie, as defensive captain, patiently waited for his turn in the spotlight. It was only a matter of time before the offense either scored a touchdown or fumbled the ball. He turned and looked out at the crowd, trying to spot his friends. He knew Carlos was playing trumpet in the band, and DA was drum major. He wouldn't be able to get their attention from the field, but it was nice seeing his best buddy cracking some shitty joke to the poor sap next to him. He noticed Arnold and Phoebe were waving at him from the middle of the bleachers. He took off his hat and waved it back at them, trying to ignore the feelings of discomfort when he saw them kiss.
Tim was drawing something, as he always was. Wanda was a couple rows behind him. When they made eye contact, she smiled and gave him the finger as her special way of saying "hello." He would've flipped her off in return, but then the entire crowd would see it and get offended. So he just smiled back.
Ralphie continued to scan for a sign of Keesha, but she wasn't there. He made eye contact with Arnold and gave him the "where is she?" look. Arnold just shook his head. Ralphie shrugged his shoulders. Keesha must be doing the school broadcast right now. Which meant that she'd hear about his biggest plays while on the air.
Suddenly, the crowd started booing, and Ralphie's attention snapped back to the field. The receiver had fumbled, and the Bull Dogs had just picked up the ball. Jesus Christ, our offense sucks, he thought to himself.
"Alright guys, we're up!" he called out. He took off his red cap and put on his helmet. He took a moment to admire the big letter "R" that replaced his former number #07. He pulled a LOT of favors with Coach Teller to get the letter, but it completed his picture too perfectly.
Out on the field, the defensive linemen took their places on the line of scrimmage, facing the Bull Dogs' squad. Ralphie, as inside linebacker, hung out a few yards behind, eyeing the field, looking for an opening. He found it - the little guy on the outside was shaking slightly. There's my punching bag.
Ralphie dug in his cleats and took a deep breath in, remembering Ms. Frizzle's lesson on the heart and lungs. He willed his heartbeat to slow down, giving himself a moment to prepare.
Time slowed. Everything was still. The crowd faded out as Ralphie balanced on his tip-toes.
"HIKE!"
The field instantly turned from a chess game to a mass of flowing flesh and testosterone. Bodies collided with bodies as the tackles and defensive lineman butted heads. Ralphie exhaled as he sprinted over to the right where that poor little outside tackle was waiting for him. The small fry stood his ground, bracing for impact with the 6'10" tower that was Ralphie Tennelli.
Brave kid, he thought.
BOOM
Ralphie pushed all 250lbs of his body into the squirt, bowling him over with little resistance. He kept sprinting as he saw the Runningback grab the ball from the Quarterback's hands. He changed targets accordingly and bolted for the #80 jersey. His heart was racing.
The halfback tried to get in Ralphie's way.
BOOM
The halfback was no longer an issue.
Ralphie's breathing quickened. His legs were starting to burn; he needed more oxygen, or he wasn't going to catch up. He was within 2 yards of the Runningback when a Butterfly defensive lineman, #29 Jake, blocked the exit. The Runningback was trying to weasel his way through when Ralphie closed the distance and lowered his head for a tackle.
"SHICKA SHICKA KA-!"
CRACK. THUD.
The world spun. Ralphie was on the ground. There was the sound of cheering underneath the awful ringing in his ears. He was struggling to figure out which way was up when he felt a painful rap on his helmet.
"R, the play's over! You're crushing them!"
He felt 2 bodies underneath him and realized that he'd tackled #29 Jake as well as the Runningback. He rose slowly, trying desperately not to stumble. He wanted to wave at the audience to let them know he was fine, but he didn't know which direction they were in. He only saw shapes that he assumed were players.
I'll be fine, he told himself. Nothing that hasn't happened before. Just give it a minute during the huddle and you'll be good as new.
Sure enough, while Coach Teller was dictating the next defensive play, Ralphie's vision cleared. He briefly considered telling Coach about his concussion. His mom had urged him to rest if he ever took a hit like that. But he couldn't leave now. The game's still 0-0. If I take a break, the Bull Dogs might actually score. We could lose!
"You okay, R?" Coach Teller was looking up at him inquisitively. "You look a little pale. Do you think going to be sick?"
Ralphie shook his head. "I'm fine coach, but thanks. What's the play?"
"Excuse me, Mr. Papal, but you're dodging the question."
Keesha was on fire. The studio lights beat down on the mayor's head, making his sweat very apparent to the news camera. He began squirming in his seat like a fat panda. Keesha loved it when they squirmed.
"I just told you, we have a spot for the supermall just outside of Walkerville, and construction should begin -"
"I'm sorry Mr. Papal, but let's get the facts. May I remind you that 10 years ago, you commissioned this same mall to be placed in the Walkerville swamp. A mall that, despite the fact that there were some planning issues, is STILL not here!"
"I'm sorry, Keesha, but that's all the time we have for today." Derek, her co-anchor, interrupted her. "Thank you very much for watching. We'll keep you updated on the events of the city council elections in the weeks to come. For Walkerville Weekly, I'm Derek Thompson."
Keesha beamed for the cameras. "And I'm Keesha Franklin. Thank you Mr. Papal. Stay tuned for our sports update in just a few minutes."
Keesha held her forced smile for another 5 seconds as the outro music played off the newscast. Finally, the "On Air" sign dimmed, and the thick, awkward silence in the studio devolved into the hustle and bustle of 20 students racing to prepare the next segment. People ran to and fro like builder ants. All 3 cameramen were talking into their microphones at the same time, and the stage manager was shouting something. As Keesha let the sound guy tamper with her microphone, she grinned smugly at the mayor.
"Sorry for being so harsh, Mr. Papal. I'm just doing my job."
"And doing it well, Keesha," the mayor replied, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "But you didn't let me finish my argument. If this conversation was really as important as you say, you'd continue this after the break. It's more important to the good of Walkerville than your football game."
Keesha shook her head, her poofy hair bouncing inside its tight bun. "I couldn't agree more, Mr. Papal, but unfortunately, I don't run the program. Maybe we can continue this discussion next broadcast?"
But the stage manager was already yelling for places, and there was no time for further plans. The mayor walked off the stage, and their teacher, Mr. Evans, started talking into Keesha's earpiece.
"Okay, Keesha, the game's score was 16 - 0, Walkerville wins. Opposing Runningback suffered from a..."
Keesha tuned Mr. Evans out; everything he said would be on the teleprompter anyways. She knew the he was holding her hand, which she neither needed nor appreciated.
The students all shuffled into their positions. The sports reporter, a blond, white kid named Jack, quickly got up onto the news stage and made himself comfortable in the third seat. Keesha breathed deep as the "On Air" sign turned back on.
"Hello, and welcome back to the Walkerville Weekly with our sports report. I'm Keesha Franklin."
"And I'm Derek Thompson. An eventful game today, score 16-nothing, Bog Beast Butterflies, but Runningback Santana for the Bull Dogs has a sprained knee, and will be out for about a week. We go to our sports reporter, Jack Birmingham, for the details."
Keesha put her facial expressions on autopilot, smiling and nodding as Jack discussed whatever happened at the game. Her thoughts automatically went to her college application for Washington State University's broadcast journalism program. That last interview with the mayor was definitely the final piece for the news reel portion of her application; she could feel it. Together with her forest fire coverage and the O'Neill court case, she was looking good -
"...the sprain was caused when Tennelli rammed into him in the 2nd quarter."
Ralphie?
"You can see here, 'R' Tennelli took out both Santana and his own lineman, Vorndran. We think the damage might have occurred after the tackle, cause if you look here, Tennelli doesn't get up right away. He continues lying on top of them, well after the play is over, probably bending Santana's knee until the muscle sprained. I guess that's just how the 'R' likes to relax after a tough play; on the bodies of his enemies."
Keesha maintained her composure. She knew Jack was blowing smoke out of his ass; that was NOT how knees are sprained. Still, something was wrong. She watched the footage closely and noticed that Ralphie stumbled a little as he walked off the field. She'd text Phoebe after the show.
"Thank you very much Jack. That's all for our sports section. I'm Keesha Franklin"
"And I'm Derek Thompson. We'll be right back with Janet Perlstein in Entertainment."