It was time to get serious. In a large open field in Townsville park, a certain green-eyed puff swooped up her already short hair into an even shorter ponytail. She wiped the sweat off her brow and kicked the dirt back as she hyped herself up to throw the pigskin.
"What's taking you so long? Just throw the fucking ball, Buttercup." Mitch said, from very, very far away.
Mitch's impatience was just enough to throw Buttercup off her balance. Before Buttercup could stop herself, that football was zooming through the sky. The average citizen could see how that football cut through the air like a bullet. Mitch, reasonably so, decided to dodge the football and when he looked back, he saw the football cut a clean hole in a thick oak tree behind him. The guilt hit Buttercup and she decided to fly over to catch the ball before anyone got hurt.
Then, right at the cliff's edge, Buttercup saw a hand catch the football like it was a mere toss. Fresh steam rose from the hand like the steam of a fresh pie. When her eyes slowly followed that hand to see who it was connected to, she saw a boy with curious dark blue eyes and silky blonde hair that could make any girl swoon. Too bad he wasn't Buttercup's type. He sported a deer-in-the-headlights look, just the kind of face you can sucker punch, and he looked at her, then looked at the ball, then looked at her again. Buttercup did not have the time to deal with this; she had a game to go back to.
Buttercup sighed, "Boomer just hand over the football so I don't have to kick your sorry little ass. Ok?"
"Oh, you want this? Yeah sure, here ya go!" Boomer winded his arm back, one eye closed, slightly stuck out his tongue, and threw it. Buttercup thrust herself in the air to catch it, but wait— where's the ball?
Electric blue streaks zig-zag through the city sky; Boomer's got the football under his arm. A lime green streak shortly followed; Buttercup is hot on Boomer's tail. He looked back to see an extremely pissed Buttercup, but that didn't stop Boomer from pissing her off more. From fresh wet laundry hanging on thin strings to family-sized cars, Boomer threw whatever he could at her to slow her down. No matter what Boomer threw, Buttercup dodged, though it managed to slow her down little by little. He blew raspberries at her to taunt her more— big mistake.
Bam! A straight collision into a metal pole, sending Boomer plummeting down. Buttercup took the opportunity to tackle Boomer down to the cold gray cement.
Boomer's gotta be done for now, right? Wrong. Even after Buttercup snatched the football from his grip, Boomer was still giggling like a little schoolgirl. Only to immediately wince from the headache— guess he wasn't left completely unscathed.
That didn't matter to Buttercup though. She flew straight to her friends in the open field. With her hands on her knees, struggling to catch her breath, she apologized for keeping them up; if it weren't for pretty boy, they would have been still playing. Mitch tells her to keep the apology, the gang already went to the bodega and bought some gyros and fries.
"Here we saved some for you too." Mitch passed the takeout they ordered just for her.
Buttercup muttered softly, "Oh sweet." She ripped into the stapled bag to munch, racing really worked up an appetite.
Then a voice right behind Buttercup's shoulder says, "Ooh, what did we get?"
Out of sheer surprise, Buttercup elbowed him right in the throat. He fell backward, landing straight on the pavement. His hand was still holding his throat when Buttercup urged her friends to look for a new spot to play. With only a little bit of protest, Buttercup's friends gathered all of their bags and scurried in every direction to look for a better spot to play.
Out of curiosity, she took a small peek over her shoulder to see how pretty boy was doing. Boomer wiped the dirt off his bare knees and headed opposite. Buttercup's eyebrows twitched, maybe she didn't have to be that harsh. He didn't have to give up that quickly either.
