Author's Note: I am the Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons. This is written for Round 11 of the QLFC. My prompt is: Falcons: You are writing sports fiction! You can pick any sport (magic or muggle) but it CAN NOT be Quidditch.
The No-Maj
Becket Smith flattened his body close to the broom and gripped the handle as he flew. It was the bottom of the fourth quarter, and everything rested upon him scoring.
In his left arm, he clutched the Quod with trepidation, as if the large, red thing would explode any minute. The fact that it could and most likely would explode just added to the racing of his heartbeat. He shot a glance to his left where his friend, Logan, flew parallel to him. Logan met his eye and shook his head, mouthing the word 'no.'
Becket looked down the field. Two of his older brothers hovered over the large cauldron set in the grass on the other end of the massive clearing at the edge of his parents' property. Turning back to his friend, Becket chucked the Quod.
Fumbling with the ball, Logan shrieked. "Don't give it to me, mate!" His British accent deepened with his anxiety, and he passed the Quod back.
"What do you mean?" Becket pulled up on his broom to come to a stop. "You play Quidditch back home, don't you?." He gestured at Logan's t-shirt, Hufflepuff Quidditch written across the front, as if his point should be obvious.
"Yeah, but nothing explodes in that game." He threw his hands up in the air. "You Americans and your explosions!"
Shaking his head, Becket snorted. "You Brits and your sensitivities."
"Oi!" Logan, not one to stand being called chicken, held out a hand. "Give it here, then."
Down the field, his brothers began making tick-tock noises. "Not a chance, dude," Becket said and took off.
Closing in on the cauldron, Becket paused for a split second as he flicked his eyes back and forth between his brothers. Ryan and Zach—fraternal twins similar in every way except appearance—were formidable and ruthless, but predictable. They were seventeen, going into their final year at Ilvermorny, and had played Quodpot since their second year.
The twins looped back and forth in front of the cauldron in a dizzying display of aerial acrobatics. As Becket zeroed in on his brothers, they cackled. Becket swerved to the left, only to be met with Ryan's grinning face. When he angled his broom the other way, Zach cut him off, and Becket bounced back and forth between them. The twins called their signature move the Smith Sandwich—Becket just called it annoying.
Ryan spiraled around Becket. "Tick-tock, tick-tock, little brother."
Taking a deep breath, Becket closed his eyes and tried something he had only read about in QuodSport. He made a sharp turn down and let his broom hurtle towards the ground. Vaguely, he was aware of a cascade of obscenities from above, but he pushed those aside and focused on the wind whipping against his skin. Opening his eyes, he pulled up as his heart galloped at full speed. The cauldron was just a toss away. This was it; he had finally beat his brothers. Becket grinned, dug his fingers into the ball's leather and—
BAM!
oOo
Riley Morgan ran with the care-free abandon of a child with two months of summer ahead of her. She loved the woods behind her family's vacation cabin and could think of no other place she would rather be. It provided an endless opportunity for adventure and an outlet for her wild imagination. The woods were just as much her home as her real house in Virginia. Riley couldn't imagine a summer without the earthy smells of dirt and underbrush and the company of the towering trees.
Pushing through low hanging branches and hopping over a fallen log, she skidded to a stop at the top of an embankment. She grabbed the trunk of a young tree and half-slid down the slope to the stream that trickled across the forest floor. She hesitated.
The stream was the border of her parents' property. She and her brother were under firm instruction that they were to never go beyond the stream. Riley kicked off her shoes and crouched down at the water's edge to stick her fingers into the cool stream. A school of minnows darted away from her. As she leaned forward to get a better look, the distant sounds of children shouting distracted her. Riley stood and looked off into the part of the forest that was strictly forbidden.
The noise carried through the trees, both distinct and nondescript, like echos, and it made her wild with curiosity. Looking down at the stream, Riley carefully stepped into the water. Rules were made to be broken.
oOo
Becket hit the ground with enough force to knock a few thoughts loose in his head. He laid on the ground, dazed and wondering what had happened. Above him, the sky was blue and the trees arched overhead. A flock of birds flew past, and Becket blinked once and then again. A face appeared hovering over him. The face doubled and hands were suddenly pulling him up.
"—stupid idiot—"
"—mom's going to murder you."
"Mate, you look like—"
Becket groaned and rolled over onto his hands and knees. He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. The muffled insides of his head cleared, and the world drew up to full volume again. He stood up and stumbled before righting himself.
Zach grabbed his brother's arm. "Where'd you learn that?" he asked as he brushed the grass off of Becket's back.
"QuodSport I read the other day." Becket swatted at his older brother. "Will you quit that?"
"No, I will not," Zach said, making a display of smacking his brother in the back far harder than was necessary. "Now, we have business to attend to."
Forcefully removing himself from his brother's grasp, Becket folded his arms. "We do not!"
"We had a deal, fair and square." Zach held out his hand. "The Quod blew; you lost. You now owe us one mint-condition Abraham Peasegood Quodcard."
Across the clearing, a twig snapped followed by leaves rustling. Heads turned and all talk of Quodpot ceased.
"Who's there?" Ryan asked, raising his voice to be heard across the clearing.
A shriek sounded as a blond girl tumbled out of the bushes. She was younger than Becket, but by only a year or two. Fright and surprise froze her expression, eyes wide and mouth open.
Ryan approached her. "Who are you? You're trespassing on my family's property."
"I—I uh…" The girl stood, glanced from Ryan to Zach and then to the broom Becket held in his hand.
Becket shoved his broom behind his back. The girl turned and ran back into the woods.
oOo
Riley pulled her brother by the arm through the woods. "I'm telling you, Jake, they were flying. On brooms!"
Her brother pulled his wrist out of his little sister's grip. "That's stupid. You're making up stories."
"I am not." She planted her fists on her hips and looked up at her brother.
"People don't fly," he said with the long-suffering tone of an older brother.
Turning away from her brother, Riley continued walking. "Well, these kids were," she said over her shoulder.
She led her brother through the woods, and when they got to the stream, Riley jumped from one bank to the other. Her brother held back, eyeing the water.
"We're not supposed to go past the stream," he said. "I'll tell mom and dad."
Riley lifted her chin. "If you tell them, I'll tell them about the magazines you keep hidden under your mattress."
Anger flashed across Jake's face. "Have you been sneaking around my room again?"
"What is Playboy, anyways?"
Jake scoffed but looked away. "You don't know anything," he said. "You're only ten."
"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked. "And I'm almost eleven."
Backing away from the stream, Jake sent his sister a cursory look. "Fine, whatever." He grabbed onto a tree to haul himself back up the steep incline. "I'm going back."
"Baby," she said, sticking her tongue out.
Holding up his hand, Jake displayed one finger.
She propped her hands on her hips. "That's rude!"
Riley watched her brother disappeared back through the woods. She kicked at the sticks and dirt, forming a small divot in the forest floor. Her brother used to be more fun, but now he wanted to do nothing but play stupid games on the computer. There had once been a time where Jake wouldn't have thought twice about adventuring through the woods with her. Sighing, Riley turned and continued on through the woods. She wanted to at least find the clearing again.
It wasn't hard to locate, but this time it was empty. Stepping through the bushes lining one end, Riley slowly moved out into the open. She paused, listening for any noises. When the only sounds came from the birds in the trees, she began walking with more confidence. At the other end of the field, a large black pot sat in the grass. Riley knelt down and gave it an experimental rap with her knuckles. It was made of metal and gave a hollow twang. Eyebrows raised, she grabbed it by the brim and tried to lift it. Grunting, Riley rolled it onto its side, the pot heavier than she would have expected.
"Weird," she said, standing up and leaving the pot on its side.
That's when she saw it, lying in the grass not too far from the pot. Riley picked it up and frowned. It was a broom—a funny looking one with stiff bristles and Firebolt 2000 etched into the side of the handle. Riley glanced around her and lifted one leg over the broom. A grin spread across her face and she ran in a large circle around the overturned pot.
Footsteps crunched through the woods near the clearing. "—can't believe I left it behind."
Riley stumbled as two boys stepped into the clearing, her breath catching in her throat. They came to a stop as they saw her, and then it happened. The broom jumped in her hands, and Riley lurched through the air. She screamed as the world spun around her like a jaunty carousel. Finally, it came to a stop, and Riley crashed into the ground.
When she opened her eyes, the two boys stood over her. They met each other's eyes and then looked down at Riley. The boy wearing a yellow shirt shook his head and turned to his friend. "Well, she's no No-Maj, Becket."