Chapter Three
*Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.*
The alarm went off but there was no need. I flipped over and smack the rectangular black box. I adjusted myself to the original position, staring at the bare ceiling. Heavy eyelids indicated very little sleep. How can I? The open try-outs were today, as marked with red highlighter on the calendar above the brown dresser. I had enough time to relax and get ready for the day. Or so I thought.
"What time is it?"
My hazed eyes read the clock. 7:27 am.
"What!? No way!"
Throwing the white sheet aside, I jumped out of bed. I noticed Vaike wasn't in the darkly lit room. I tripped over my cleats and braced myself on the light grey coffee table. There was a note.
Hey, Shorty. Went to Roy Field. I tried waking you, but you didn't want to wake. Hope you can come out in time. Teach.
I crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash can between the bed and dresser. I cursed at myself and ran into the bathroom in the corner. No time for the toothbrush or combing my messy hair, I swashed some mouthwash and spat into the sink. Thankfully, my gym clothes and cleats were laid out the night before.
Busting out the door, I had twenty-seven minutes to get to the field or else the gates would be closed. It is normally a thirty-minute walk from the dorm, so I had to jog fast or run a little. My feet mixed up the pace in effort to conserve as much energy for the drills.
"Watch out! Move!" I yelled as I scurried past two girls down the stairs. Maybe my ears heard profanities, but I didn't care as I busted through the door, almost blinded by the sunlight. Turning two sharp lefts, I jumped over a set of bushes and landed on soft grass. I had two options: go through a classroom building, the science department, or traverse around said building for the longer route but with fewer people. I decided to risk the building. As expected, the hallways were mostly full of students going to their classes. Any and all poor souls that got in my way were shoved to a wall. No doubt I received many looks but I wasn't concerned. I huffed my way out the long building, leading to a sidewalk before a two-way road.
"Can't wait." I whispered to myself as I ignored the orange light while crossing the road. Thankfully, no cars were around. I could see the field in the distance as I made my way down a tree-filled hill. A few more maneuvers and I arrived at the main gate.
7:59 the tower clock read.
I panted with hands on the knees. Lips smiled with a sigh of relief. A shadow approached, "ID, please."
"Here," flashing the plastic, then putting it away. I was let inside the black gates by the supervisor in yellow. She stuffed a paper in my hand. I studied it for far too long.
"Guess this is my number."
The gate closed behind me, so I must have been the last one to arrive. The field was packed with well over a hundred students, all vying for a highly coveted roster spot. My neck rotated, hoping to find familiar faces. Vaike was part of a small crowd on the far-left field. I looked right and noticed the cheerleaders were having their try-outs. I pretty much forgotten about that. I spotted Lissa and she noticed me as well and waved with a wide smile. I waved back before an interruption from a whistle.
"Receivers report to Field One with the quarterbacks! Running backs, Field Two…"
The remaining words from Coach Anders faded out as my position group of choice was called. Field Two. Phila Anders jogged to the left with her group. I looked right and saw Coach Flavia and Coach Basilio directed the defense hopefuls. Coach Frederick was already lecturing the players that included Vaike as well as other big men. That left an assistant to lead the backfield gang.
"Line up by number!" The blonde girl announced as we got in position in the middle of the field. With just a notepad and measuring tape, she recorded our measurables: Height. Weight. Wingspan.
The nerves of self-conscious lurked around and festered as she moved closer and closer. Would I even be considered for a spot with the lack of height? That is what they wanted, right? No, I told myself. I shook my head and turned around, attempting not to let negative thoughts consume me.
"Hi there, name's Phil."
"H-hey…my name is Ricken. Ricken Smyth."
I was taken aback by this boy. He was my size and trying out for the team as well. The jittery hands indicated he was also anxious. My nerves calmed as we made quick small talk whispering. He seemed really nice; I hope he makes the team as well, even if he is rivaling to make the team.
"Next!"
I stepped forward with a gulp. I stood as tall as I could and spread my arms as the assistant stretched out the tape. After giving a verbal on my weight, she wrote down the results. As she took a moment to eye me up, I felt small. Really small. She was forced to look down at me. The blonde jotted down one last scribble as she continued her work.
After a few more players, the note-taking was over. Blowing her whistle, we jogged around the three fields. Not even breaking a sweat after two laps, we were placed in a new area on the field with bright orange cones. Finally, maybe I can show off my skills! However, disappointment sunk in. A tall man in a blue collared shirt acted as a quarterback as one by one we did basic handoff drills while in a line. After getting two rounds per person, the whistle blew.
"Alright everyone, that is all! Thank you for taking the time to come out. Finally roster spots will be posted later this evening on the Lewis Wall, directed to the north. Have a good day."
Wait, that was it? All I did was grabbed the ball from the guy and ran in a circle. How could one judge talent, given on very little information? Maybe they already have someone in mind. Regardless, I wasn't going to let a quick day go by fruitless. Maybe if I sneak in with the receiving group, I would have better luck. I waited until the last of the backfield group exited past the main gate. I jogged to Field One. Determined to blend in, luck was on my side.
Coach Phila had the players take a quick water break. Now was my chance. I went up another guy roughly around my build and height.
"Hey there. How's it going? Name's Phil." I pretended to stretch out my arms.
"Hey there mister!" The polite boy stuck a thumb out, "Name's Donnel McCoy, but you can call me Donny. Reckon nice to meet ya!"
"Nice to meet you too, Donny," I nodded.
I glanced around, looking at the other receivers. Jeez, they were tall. Only the linemen group were taller on average. I had to look up to everyone. Other than their heights, another observation clearly stood out. Girls. More than several were attempting to make the team. That is strange, I originally thought to myself. Not that they weren't allowed to play, but when you've watched football most of your life with only men, the gender stereotypes are hard to shrug off.
However, one woman caught my attention. She was the tallest and had legs for days. Removing a hair tie, she shook her head. Flowing crimson hair reached to her waist. The pale skin of an angel glistened. The lips on a million-dollar smile. And those eyes. If the galaxies danced together in the heavens above in their splendid, they would still fail in comparison.
"Who is that?" I leaned toward my country friend.
"Who ya mean, sir?"
His politeness was certainly something. I smirked and nodded, "Her. Red."
Donnel took a few seconds to scope the area. He found her. "Oh! I've seen her around here a few times. Her name is-"
His lips moved, but the words didn't reach my ear. Coach Phila blew her whistle as she directed everyone to take a knee on the ground. I mentally cursed myself while ignoring everything the coach rambled on about. I couldn't let my eyes off her. She flipped her hair and flashed a metal. Wing clips in her hair.
She must be from that sorority.
Only girls from Alpha Pi wore those hair clip. At least I had a lead on where she possibly stayed on campus. Maybe I could find her later and get to know her and…
"So, with that said, I encourage each of you all, whether you make the team or not, to find your own passions and glory. If I called your name, stay here and we will do a few more routes with the quarterbacks. Now everyone, bring it in. Nagas on three!" We got up and formed a circle for the chant that echoed. The other position groups seemed to end their training as well with similar shouts.
My name was not called.
That was it? All the hard work I put in, and for what? Dejected, I said my good-byes to Donnel. I didn't want to leave but I guess I had no choice. I wanted to stay around for a while longer as this is my last time on a practice field that the Naga team will no doubt use for their practices. Air escaped and re-entered my lungs a couple times before I decided enough of a pity-party.
A hand reached out and forced me to turn and look up. The rock of a figure blocked out the sun.
"Are you Phil?"
Taking too long for an answer, I made it awkward enough to appear as if I had forgotten my name. "Y-yes, sir. Coach."
The man turned his level lips into a soft smile. "You may call me Coach Frederick. It is a pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." He extended a muscular arm.
"Nice to meet you too, Coach Frederick." I grabbed his hand. "If I may ask, who told you about me?"
"Chrom," Frederick boomed.
Chrom. I didn't see him at all today but I guess if you're going to be the starting quarterback, there's no need to come out. Maybe the coach told him to stay at the dorm. But to my surprise, he appeared.
"Phil! Phil, glad you came out." He ran through the gate and gave me a big hug. Another surprise. "Coach, this is the guy I was telling you about."
Frederick rubbed his chin. "I see." He was studying me. Perhaps waiting for a response from my body language. Whatever the reason, it was making me uncomfortable.
After the pregnant pause, the giant of a man laughed and slapped my back.
"Phil, you ready to do a couple of drills?"
Finally! I waited all day for this; to prove I belong on the Naga football team. And who better to judge than the head coach himself? Looks like Chrom wouldn't be the only one to get a personal workout. I looked over my shoulder to notice the golden arm man give a thumbs up. I was led to the endzone on the far-right field. The anticipation building, I forced my fingers to cease fidgeting.
Coach Frederick readied his whistle. "Get lined up!"
A soft breeze picked up, feeling cool on my skin. This was my first, and probably last, chance to show what I am made of. The cleats dug in and I placed my hands on the white-lined turf. My stance was good enough as I looked down; a light smile came about.
Pffft!
Lifting off the ground, the arms pumped after my legs lunged forward, allowing for speed to pick up.
Got to go faster.
The wind grew faster by the millisecond, and it was not caused by Mother Nature. Blood flowing throughout my body, time seemed to pause. The white yard markers became blurs. The orange cones ahead drew bigger. I breathed through my nose until I crossed the 40-yard line. A gasp out of my mouth was liberating. The panting followed, crutching my knees. I glanced back at the greying man.
He looked perturbed while tapping on his stop watch. Did it read right? Shrugging it off, his face twisted a rare smile. I jogged back, eager to see the result. Fortunately, Coach Frederick yelled it out loud for all to hear that lingered around.
4.31!
Practice balls dropped. The nonchalant attitudes turned curious. All eyes were on me.
"Run it again!" growled Coach.
I lowered myself again, taking in a deep breath. The freshness of the air filled my lungs. I closed my eyes. All I thought about was crossing that line and making sure my first time was no fluke. One more breath and I was prepared. The whistle blew and I got up quicker off the line. My heart pounded away in my ears as I was unable to hear the cheers. A welcomed breeze pushed my legs faster than ever. I stepped over the final line huffing with a very red face.
4.28!
The first run was no accident. Those that watched from afar rushed to the fence outside the stadium. Agape mouths and light murmurs from the crowd confirmed what I already knew. I am fast. Really fast. Coach waved me over to the next area with three cones set up. The orange markers stood five yards apart in a "L" shape. Walking up to the first cone, Coach signaled me to get set.
A deep inhale and then the whistle blew. Legs churned around the second cone, back to the starting one. Sprinting back to the second, I turned left towards the third cone. Turf rubber flew up cutting corners. A last shake of the hip around the second cone, the finish was in sight. My head dipped through the first cone, stopping Frederick's watch.
6.54!
Whispers became normal level conversations. The level of intrigue was high. Even Coach Frederick chuckled to himself. All were impressed, except for one person.
The lavender dyed woman approached Frederick. "Sure, he is fast. But does he have hands? Speed is nothing without the ability to catch. And I reserve my doubts." Phila folded her arms emotionlessly. "Let me see what the little guy is made of."
The words burned in my stomach. If I made an impression on the head coach, why not on the receiver coach? Ever determined in my abilities, I sought to prove her wrong. Mutual stares lingered as I took my place within the wideout group. I shook my arms while watching the others take their turn catching the football.
"Next!" Coach Phila screamed.
I turned my head left and nodded to Chrom. With a tap of the ball, I got off the line, blazing like a gazelle. Ten yards later and a wiggle of the hips, I caught the perfectly placed ball. This repeated several times over. And yet, the coach stood stoic as ever.
"Lon'qu!" Phila spat. "On the ball!"
A tall, slender man ran over and faced me as we took our places. I heard rumors he was a transfer from Regna Ferox State and pretty good. Unintimated, I smirked at the poor soul. A flick of my nose told Chrom what I wanted to run.
This man is getting toasted.
With the signal from Chrom, I engaged in a hand fight with Lon'qu. His hands were fast, but so were mine. Finding an opening, my left hand pushed off his body. I managed to get that necessary step ahead of him. The rest was history. Even though Chrom developed a reputation of an accurate ball, the wind howled and made the throw off target. With a grunt and sense of urgency, I leaped forward. Stretching the right arm as far as I could, the fingers gripped the pigskin. Tumbling over, I secured the catch.
The spectators roared with cheers over the amazing grab. I brushed off the turf rubber as I got to my feet. Walking back to the end of the line grinning ear to ear, I flipped the ball to Coach Phila. I swore I saw her lips curl.
"Here you go, Coach. Yeah, I think I can play."
Coach Frederick blew on the whistle in sequence. "Let's call it a day, Phil!" He smacked my shoulders as I spun around. "Practice begins 6am sharp tomorrow. Be here or else don't."
"Yes, Coach!" I exclaimed. On cloud nine, I started my walk back to my dorm, but not without one more acknowledgment. I couldn't help but notice that a particular receiver was amused by my workout. It was…her. I gave the beautiful redhead a wink. She touched her blushing cheeks after I got off the field.
Twisted face with a goofy grin, I paid no attention to the students I passed by. Noises became silenced. My world was in slow motion. Nothing on my mind except visions of blades of grass, a football, and a painted white line. No one would stop me from scoring the game's final touchdown. No one. I always wanted to be a hero. Dragons are unfortunately myth, but winning the big game for the football team is good enough for me to play the part.
Arriving at the door, the last obstacle to the bed, I threw down my belongings and collapsed while staring at the ceiling. The daydreaming ceased and was overtaken by a whisper. I swore it was my father calling out for me, but the tone didn't match his normal coldness.
"Proud of you, my son."