Disclaimer:  Don't own SSX Tricky.

We Are NOT Sports People

Chapter Three

"Mockingbird…" Brodi mumbled, picking up another french-fry to eat, hesitating at his lips.  He kept his eyes closed, his ears almost twitching as they strained to hear all the birdcalls around him over Eddie's chomping mouth.  "Wren… Chickadee… Swallow…"

"Brodi, if you don't shut up—" Elise threatened through gritted teeth, her hand holding a bag of ice wrapped in a cloth to her head.  Brodi opened his eyes and looked at her.  She was glaring at him.

"So sorry," he apologized genuinely, sticking the french-fry in his mouth.  He chewed it and swallowed.  "I didn't know I'd be bothering you."

"Are you sure you don't want part of my Big Mac?" Eddie interrupted, waving his half-eaten sandwich in the air in front of Elise.  She gave him a you-must-be-kidding-me look.

"I already told you, I'm not hungry."  She paused, and her nose delicately wrinkled in disdain.  "Besides, you've got onions on your burger.  I hate onions."

"I can take the onions off…"

"I said NO, Eddie!  I'm not hungry!"

Eddie shrugged, biting off a large amount of greasy—yet strangely delicious—fast food.  "Wha'ever f'oats yur boat," he said through a mouthful.

Brodi laughed quietly, then looked down into the cardboard cup holding his McDonald's french-fries.  He fished out a particularly soft-looking fry and ate it, licking the salt off his fingers.  He preferred the soft ones.

It was almost an hour after Elise's and Marisol's "inevitable bitch-slapping," as Elise fondly dubbed it.  The trio was now sitting outside on a cafeteria bench in the shade of a large, red-and-white-striped umbrella, watching the camera crew exit and enter the gym every now and then, loading and unloading their cargo.  It seemed the next SSX Tricky mini-olympics game would take place outside, and even after an hour of work, the television staff were still hauling cameras and microphones.

"I really hope we're not doing soccer," Eddie suddenly whispered.  Elise and Brodi looked at him while Eddie sipped his fountain drink meekly through a straw.

"Why?" Elise asked, shifting her ice pack.  Eddie glanced at her and Brodi darkly.

"Brings back bad memories of the ol' school days…"

Brodi watched Eddie shift uncomfortably under his and Elise's gaze.  He ate another french-fry.  "A heavy snowfall disappears into the sea without a trace."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, looking up.  Brodi picked up another french-fry and polished it off, shrugging.

"I'm not too sure.  But it's one of my favorite Zen sayings… you know, cause it has to do with both snow and the ocean…"  Eddie turned to look back at his Big Mac, though he didn't take a bite.  "Sorry bro, it just seemed to fit the moment."

"S'ok," Eddie murmured, opening his mouth and raising the burger to his lips.  He hesitated, changed his mind, and took a drink through his straw instead.

Elise shifted the patch on her forehead, which had become irritatingly cold.  It certainly wasn't doing a thing to reduce the splitting headache she had had since she'd regained consciousness, but hopefully it would reduce the swelling.  She almost shuddered at the thought: Elise Riggs, the beauty of the SSX Tricky Tour Group, being filmed on TV with a huge, red lump the size of her fist on her forehead.  The only thought that brought some comfort to her situation was the assurance that Marisol had the same, if not an even bigger bump, on her face.

A small bird suddenly landed on Brodi's table.  Eddie, Elise and he became very still, watching as the bird hopped nervously from side to side, studying Brodi and his french-fries jealously with one beady, black eye.  Brodi slowly stuck his hand in his cardboard cup.

"Blue jay," he whispered, gently tossing a fry towards the normally feisty bird.  It hopped backwards a little bit, and then nervously pecked at the large piece of food, trying to pick it up in its beak.

"HOO-HA!" someone behind Brodi screamed, and the bird took flight, twittering angrily.  Brodi jumped and accidentally dropped his cup to the ground, turning around to see who had the nerve to do something like that.

It was Luther flanked by JP.  Brodi glared at him, while Elise and Eddie frowned sourly.  "Just what are you doing here?"

Luther's laugh sounded uncannily like the bray of a donkey.  "Only wish I had ma' shotgun with me.  I woulda taken aim at that thing and BAM!"  Luther lifted his hands in front of him and closed one eye, as if he were holding an invisible gun.  "Filled it full a' lead, right then and there!"

"As fascinating as your talk of death is," the Buddhist spat, "would you please leave?  Just the mere sight of you is getting my inner self off-center."

"What are you guys doing here anyway?" Eddie asked, glaring at JP and his crony.  JP took off his expensive sunglasses, polished them on his expensive t-shirt, and then set them atop his head amongst his hair, shining with expensive hair gel.

"Sorry if we are disturbing your meal," JP said absentmindedly, looking at Elise.  "Just wanted to see if the lovely lady was all right.  You took quite a hit back there in the gym."

Elise lifted a carefully plucked eyebrow.  "Um, no.  I gave the hit, remember?  I didn't take anything.  I just happened to be using my own forehead as a weapon, was all."  JP laughed and bowed at the hips.

"My apologies," he said suavely, his blue eyes twinkling.  "Of course, yes, I should have remembered.  I saw it clearly, after all."

Eddie rolled his eyes.  "Beat it, JP."

Luther swelled with indignation, as if the command had been directed to himself.  "Who you tellin' ta' leave, ya' keyboard-typing geek?"

Brodi crossed his arms.  "Now, now, children, no name-calling," he said coolly, gazing up at Luther from his seat.  "Let's have a fair fight, okay?"  JP raised a hand at Luther before the redneck could say anything else.

"Diplomacy, Luther," JP chided airily, but his eyes, which were focused on Brodi, were glittering strangely.  There was a tense silence for a while; everyone was too busy glaring at everyone else to say anything.  Elise finally spoke up.

"Hey, do you guys know what sport event is next?"  JP looked at her and she shifted the icepack on her forehead.  "We've been watching the camera crew for the past hour.  They're moving the equipment outside to somewhere behind the gym."

"I don't know, but I certainly hope it is football," JP said softly, a smile gracing his lips as he gazed unseeingly at the gym, almost as if he could see a playing field beyond it.  Luther hooted and hollered in agreement.

"Oh yea, baby, football!  I'll so be sacking the back!  Yea, that's what I'm talkin' about!"

JP looked at him and frowned.  "What?"

"Sacking the back!  Knocking the quarterback down, you know!  Defense!  Hoo-ha!  Manly stuff!"

JP's brows continued to be furrowed, however, as he tried to understand what Luther was talking about.  Eddie started snickering.

"He was talking about soccer, Luther, not American football."

"Oh…"

"Stupid."

"What'd you call me, geek!?"

"Poop head," Eddie quickly covered.  He then frowned upon second though.  "Wait a sec—that's an insult too…"

"What's up, gang?" Rahzel's voice happily interrupted.  Everyone turned to watch him approach them in a much better mood than before, springs seemingly attached to the balls of his feet.  The fact that Elise and Marisol had survived their smack down obviously was a big plus to him, and certainly a big relief.  "Feeling any better, Elise?"

She shrugged, removing the icepack from her face.  The area was flushed red from the cold.  "No, not really.  I already told you, Rahzel, I wanted an aspirin to go along with the icepack.  I have this horrible headache."

"Sorry Angel.  But remember, you were the one that cracked yours and Marisol's heads together."

"She was biting me!  What was I supposed to do!?"

"Bite her back?  I dunno," Rahzel answered with a shrug.  He then waved it away.  "But never mind then.  I'll get you an aspirin ASAP.  Has everyone eaten lunch?"

There was a simultaneous nod of everyone's head, but afterwards Brodi turned to gaze sullenly at the fries that had fallen on the ground, looking up to glare at Luther out of the corners of his eyes.  "Good then.  Just wanted to let you guys know the next sporting event will take place on the soccer field.  I want everyone down there in about twenty minutes."

Eddie's face paled so much that his freckles looked like sprinkles mixed in vanilla ice-cream.  "Oh no," he whispered, lowering his gaze to his half-eaten burger.

JP grinned.  "Ha ha!  Very good!  I can't wait to play football again!"  He made a kick with his foot, as if hitting an invisible soccer ball.  "I played the position of striker for five years at St. Constance's Private Academy, you know.  Best offensive player St. Constance's saw in thirty years."

"Football?" Rahzel repeated.  "No, no, JP, we're not playing soccer.  We're just playing on the soccer field."

JP looked downtrodden, and his glistening hair gel didn't seem to have nearly as much glitter to it as usual.  Eddie, however, looked so happy he could faint.

"So what are we playing, then?" Elise asked.  Rahzel started chuckling.

"Can't tell you that.  Not until everyone's through eating and arrives on the field."  He shared a mischievous smile with everyone.  "I want it to be a surprise."

"That can't mean no good…" Luther mumbled, crossing his arms and scowling.  Everyone personally agreed, but upon looking at Rahzel's determined expression, they knew it would be of no use to say so.

"Does anyone know where the others are?" he asked.  Elise quirked an eyebrow, raising the icepack back to her bump.

"Um… how should we know?" she snapped, fanning herself with her hand.  "They're probably eating in some restaurant… in a cool building with air conditioning…"  She turned and scowled at Eddie.  "I swear, where do you get off wanting to eat outside in this weather?"

"Well, does anyone know Mac's cell phone number?" Rahzel continued.  Brodi nodded and took a pen out of his back pocket, scribbling the number down on a spare napkin.  "Thanks Brodi.  He's probably with Kaori… I'll give them a buzz."

"Don't mention it," Brodi dismissed with a smile, handing the disc jockey the napkin.

"And so that leaves… Marisol and Seeiah, and Psymon, Zoe, and Moby.  Marisol's still in the girl's locker room—"

"Probably trying to fix that bump," Elise muttered happily to Eddie.

"—and Seeiah's in there with her.  So… does anyone know where those last three trouble-makers are?"

"Wouldn't be talking 'bout us, would ya?" an English voice suddenly said.  Everyone turned around to see the said three walking towards them.  "What's up, Rahzel?" Moby continued, crossing his arms and looking in a much better mood than before.  Italian must have set well with him.

Rahzel smiled a toothy grin.  "Good!  Just wondering where you three were… The next game's going to take place on the soccer field in a little more than a quarter of an hour.  I want you three to be down there at that time, so don't wander off somewhere."

"Shit," Psymon said, wrapping an arm around Zoe's shoulders.  "Guess that cancels our romp in the auditorium, huh baby?"

Zoe snickered, Moby glaring at Psymon from behind his back.

"Well," Rahzel said, clapping his hands together.  "Guess I'll go give Mac a ring on his cell phone.  See you guys in a bit."

As there was hardly anything to do—and hardly any time to do it in—the group of boarders simply relaxed underneath the shade of the striped umbrellas.  Elise dropped her icepack beside her, the pack now containing more water than ice anyway.  Brodi picked his empty cardboard cup up off the ground, set it on his table, and made sport out of trying to throw the dirty fries back in it.  The boarders watched him do that for several minutes, Marisol and Seeiah finally emerging from the gym to join the group.  Marisol looked very bitter, and she and Elise were constantly glaring at each other.  Both girls seemed to have reduced the appearance of their bruises so much that they were hardly noticeable.

Time passed, as time usually does, till it was five minutes until the next event.  The boarders were starting to get restless.  One could tell, because Brodi was now trying to throw three fries in his cup at once, Elise was fanning herself with more force, and Psymon had seized Elise's icepack, ripped it open, and dumped the water on Moby's head.  Moby was still chasing Psymon up a tree when Rahzel came back out to greet them, looking slightly worried.

"Mac and Kaori still aren't here?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.  "Where could they be…"

"Maybe they're having a make out session," Marisol suggested, studying her forehead in Seeiah's compact mirror.  Zoe nodded in agreement.

"Yea, I wouldn't be surprised.  They probably don't know what time it is…  Time really flies by when you're sucking face, after all…"

"Did you ever reach him?" Eddie asked.  Rahzel nodded.

"Yes, as soon as I left you all, I called him.  He said he would be here in a bit."

"I hope he hasn't gotten in a wreck," Seeiah suddenly mumbled, biting her bottom lip.  Luther looked at her and grunted while Rahzel's face paled a shade.

"Way to be oligopolistic," Luther growled.

JP looked at him.  "It's optimistic, Luther.  I'm French, and I even know that."

Luther blinked.  "Right… Then what'd I say?"

"I have no clue."

Rahzel checked his Rolex watch.  "Ohhh… this is ridiculous."  He looked up at the group.  "You all head down to the field.  It's time now already.  I'll wait for Mac and Kaori."

Zoe stood up and looped her arm around Moby's, steering him away from the tree, for which Psymon was eternally grateful.  He attempted to slide back down, missed a chunk of bark he was reaching for, and landed promptly on his bottom.

"Don't break your tush, Sketchy," Marisol chirped, walking past him, Seeiah by her side.  "It'd be a real shame.  You've got a very fine one, after all.  Almost as nice as mine…"

Psymon growled, standing back up and walking with them.

"How the heck would you know?"

Marisol grinned wryly at him.  "On the rare occasion that you do pass me in a race, I get a full view of it, Sketchy."  Psymon frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment Marisol reached back and pinched his rear, winking at him.  The Canadian stood, stunned, for a moment or two, before he grinned wolfishly and followed her.

The grass was short and smooth out on the soccer field as ten of the twelve SSX racers stepped onto it, resembling a military buzz cut.  The sun was at its toughest point of the day, high and bright in the sky, forcing almost all of the television crew under baseball caps and makeshift tents.  The racers stood in confusion, no one recognizing the scene before them.  Three separate nets had been set up all along the soccer field, approximately twenty feet apart from each other.  Large white rectangles had been drawn around them, and lines in between each of these, making them looking uncannily like—

"Tennis," Zoe spat, looking incredulous.  "You can't be serious… Rahzel can't be serious!  We can't play in the grass!  This is—is—ridiculous!"

"Not another pansy sport!" Luther groaned, sticking his face in his hands.

"Afraid so," said one of the nearby cameramen, looking incredibly bored with the whole situation.  The boarders turned to him; he was carrying a set of twelve rackets over to them.  "Here… distribute these.  Each of you gets one."

"Ah, 'ell no," Moby groaned, taking a brightly colored racket and passing the others over.  "Look at this!  This thing hardly weight more than lil' Mac!"  He frowned and threw the racket high over his head; indeed, it soared incredibly high, lasting up in the air for a good six seconds.  After it hit the ground Moby grudgingly picked it back up, plucking off the spare bits of mud and grass it had collected.

"The pout on your face could rival a baby's," Brodi said, taking a racket, his eyes twinkling.  Moby looked at him sharply.

"You calling me a babe, eh?"

"Certainly not.  I was only saying that you have mastered the pout look far better than anyone I know."

Zoe grinned.  "Of course.  Moby knows what looks are sexy these days."  She elbowed the Englishman, who was laughing nervously.  "He's fashion-conscious."

Moby's face soured.  "This wouldn't have anything to do with my sports gear pictures, would it?"

"'Course not!" she said, winking at him.

The same cameraman that had given them their rackets was heading back over to them.  "All right.  We're about ready for you all to start playing.  Are you guys ready?  Where's Rahzel?"

"RIGHT HERE!" the disc jockey suddenly shouted, hurrying across the field, Mac and Kaori running behind him.  "RIGHT HERE!  RIGHT HERE!  WE'RE HERE!"

Marisol was snickering when Kaori and Mac finally joined the group.  She passed them their rackets.  "Now what was making you two late, hmmm?"

"Traffic jam," Mac panted.  "Lunch hour.  You know the deal."

"Uh-huh," Marisol said, looking very disbelieving.  She winked at Kaori.  "Then why do you look so flustered in the face, dear?"

"I am?" she asked breathlessly.  "Well, we've just run down here all the way from the parking lot—"

"A likely story," Marisol interrupted, grinning wryly at them both.  Mac caught on to what Marisol was implying faster than Kaori did, and he blushed, looking down at the ground.  He mumbled something inaudible, suddenly fascinated with his racket.

"Sorry, didn't catch that.  What?"

"We just ate lunch," Mac said a little louder, glancing up at Marisol to glare warningly.  "That's all."  Marisol chuckled and turned back around to face Rahzel, who had just finished talking to the television crew and now looked ready to discuss their sport.

"Good to see we're all finally here!" he said, holding his hands, panting slightly, and smiling at everyone.  "Now, as you've probably guessed, the next sport you'll be playing is—"

"Tennis, we know, we know," Elise said, glaring at her racket.  "I think everyone knows the rules.  Just one quick question, though, if a score is zero in tennis, isn't it referred to as 'love'?"

Rahzel blinked.  "Uh… well, yes it is.  But Elise, we're not playing tennis."  Everyone looked up to stare at him incredulously.  Rahzel began to laugh.  "No!  No, of course not!  Not now, anyway.  You'd be playing on a real court if I had you all playing tennis."

"Spit it out then, mate, what are we playing?" Moby barked.

"Badminton, of course!"

Author's Notes:  Thank you guys for the reviews last chapter (all four of you, lol)!  I personally agree with you guys; an anime version of this WOULD be hilarious.  And Nissi Nirvani, thank you for your help.  I tried to work on Marisol a bit… but please let me know what you think of the characterization of everyone.  (And that goes for you ALL, not just Nissi.  Lol…)

~Pudgoose