This choice: Mix it up in the Hannah drama • Go Back...Chapter #16The Soccer Field of Play by: Seuzz   “So what are we going to do about Hannah?”
Marc-you turns at the question. Eva-you is leaning against the door frame of her brother’s bedroom.
Marc-you finishes pulling down an electric-blue workout jersey and looks around for some shoes. Eva-you points under the desk, where they are tumbled in a small heap. “What about Hannah?” Marc-you asks while bending down to pick them up.
“What are we going to do about her and Anita, and the rest of the soccer team?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eva-you makes a face. “Sure you do. If the rest of us know about it—”
“Who says the rest of you know anything about anything?” Marc-you grimaces while twisting the dirty laces into a knot and pulling them tight. “Has Hannah talked to you about the soccer team?”
“Well, no.”
“Has anyone else talked to you or Jess about the soccer team?”
“No one has to, Marc,” Eva-you sighs. “We—”
“So if no one’s said anything, what makes you think there’s something we have to do? Until Hannah or someone says something, we don’t know anything. Right? About Hannah or anyone else.”
Eva-you blinks at her brother. “Are we really making this difficult?”
“No,” Marc-you retorts with a grin. “We’re making this fun.”
* * * * *
More or less simultaneously, on a practice field outside of the high school. “What do you call that?” Dominique Hughes sneers at Hannah-you.
“I call it a goal,” you retort as Tara Weston fishes the ball from the net.
“I was wide open. You could’a passed it to me.”
“Would’a, could’a, should’a. I didn’t have to, and I got it in anyway.”
“That’s right, boss,” Tara agrees as she hurls the ball downfield.
“You wouldn’t have got it in if Tara was doing her job,” Dominique snarls. She gives Tara a dirty look.
“Hey, you got a problem with the way I’m guarding the net?” Tara hotly demands.
“Hannah sent it right past your ear! You could’a reached over and—”
Out of the corner of Hannah’s eye you see other girls—Gabriela Costa and Dani Sumner and (hssss!) Anita Nuevo—edging forward. But before they can throw themselves into the argument, a whistle blows from the sidelines. “Set it up again, girls!” Coach Puente shouts.
You and Dominique exchange baleful glares—and Dominique shoots a quick one at Tara—as you trot back downfield.
Freaking Dominique, Hannah-you thinks. She scares you even worse than Anita does. Her name is misleading: she’s practically a full-blooded Native American (Cherokee, or something like that) with dark skin and hair, bold cheekbones and a bolder nose, and an impassive, heavy-lidded stare that can crack stone. She’s tall and she’s strong, too, probably the tallest and strongest girl on the Westside soccer team.
Except maybe for Hannah-you. You’re pretty sure this new body you picked up yesterday could deck Dominique.
Elsewhere in your collective consciousness a very different thought boils up: And I bet Dominique’s got a snatch that’s more jungle than bush, if you know what I mean. Bet she’s a jaguar in the sack, too.
Down, Dalton.
That exchange with Dominique isn’t the only one Hannah-you has during morning practice, and if it’s the worst, that’s only because you pretended to believe it was totally an accident when Kelly Rinaldi tromped on your heel on the way into the changing rooms. Unlike Dominique or Anita, Kelly is too much of a chicken-shit to risk starting anything with Hannah.
The cheerleaders are coming out as the girls’ soccer squad is going in, but Eva-you is lingering inside, studying the screen of her cell phone. As your two bodies slide past each other, you make brief eye contact between them.
“Hey!” Eva-you calls down from the bleachers as Hannah-you and Tara emerge from the changing rooms later. Hannah-you glances back up at her, then mutters to Tara about catching up to her later. “So how are things going for you on the team?” Eva-you asks.
“Fine. Couldn’t be better,” Hannah-you replies as Eva-you comes down from the bleachers.
“Well, that’s great. ‘Cos, you know, Anita can be kind of a hard-ass.”
Hannah-you smiles; it feels tight on her face, and it looks tight, too. “I can be kind of a hard-ass too. I can respect that.”
“Sure. But, um, I didn’t ask if you respected it. I asked if you liked it.” Eva-you studies Hannah-you closely for a crack in the facade. “Are you getting along with everyone?”
“Why don’t you ask if everyone else is getting along with me? Or is it up to me to get along with them?”
“That’s not what I meant!” (It pleases you that Eva-you sounds authentically flustered.)
“So what did you mean, Eva? Why don’t you just come out and say it?”
“I don’t know, what am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know either. But it sure feels like you’re trying to get me to say something, and I’ll be damned if I know what it is.”
Eva-you bites her lip, the reaches out to grasp Hannah-you by the arm.
“You’re going out with my brother,” Eva-you says quietly. “I’d like to think that we’re all on the same team.”
“Being on the same team doesn’t mean we have to make the same plays. It doesn’t mean we’re all on the field at the same—”
“Look,” Eva-you says, “just promise me that if you have any problems with Anita or her friends or anyone else on the soccer team, that you’ll tell Marc.”
“I don’t need someone else to fight my battles,” Hannah-you replies, and hocks up a wad of blue goo, pulling a length of it out as though it were chewing gum. “Any trouble I’m having I can take care of myself. Marc saw to that.”
* * * * *
Dalton-you is swaggering to Advanced Woodworking when you hear his name shouted. Dominic Kleason, one of Dalton’s buddies on the football team, saunters up. “Hey man,” Dalton-you greets him.
Dominic ignores the greeting and drapes a heavy arm around your shoulders. “So how tight was she?” he murmurs in your ear.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t fuck with me, man.” Dominic squeezes your neck in the crook of his arm. “Every night, practically, she’s the one I jack off to.” He presses a stiff forefinger into your chest. “How tight, how soft, and what kinda noises did she make when you—?”
“Get. Off!” You twist inside Dominic’s embrace.
“Hey, take it in the bathroom, find yourselves a glory hole.” Erik Carstairs swaggers up and shoves Dominic. “So where’d you take Eva?” Eric asks you.
“Huh?”
“Huh?” Erik mimics. “Where. Did. You. Take. Eva. Garner. Last. Night? You. Dumb. Mother—?”
“Oh. Uh, just to Starbucks.” You struggle inside Dominic’s embrace.
“I meant ass or pussy? Dumbfuck.”
“Oh. Pussy,” Dalton-you lies.
“Pssh. What, are you saving the good stuff for the second date?”
“I ‘unno. Jesus, will you tell this fucker—” You twist harder inside Dominic’s grasp. It’s like trying twist a bottle cap off the wrong way.
“Yeah, you look pretty queer holding onto him that way,” Erik tells Dominic. Dominic lets go of you. “You’re bringing her back up to the Warehouse tonight, right?” Erik tells you.
“I dunno.”
“I wasn’t asking. Christ, you are the dumbest of fucks today.”
“I thought I was working tonight.”
“Tomorrow night, then. Bring her out and then, you know, find someone else you’re more into.”
Dalton-you gapes. “Seriously?”
Erik steps up close, putting his toes over yours.
“I don’t think your pecker got inside of ten feet of Eva’s pussy,” he informs you, and he flips the ball cap off your head. “Bring her out tomorrow night so someone else can finish what you couldn’t.” With a smirk, he wheels and swaggers off to class ahead of you.
You let yourself flinch from Dominic’s cold glare. “Fuck are you looking at, asshole?” you mutter.
“So you didn’t fuck her?” he demands.
“Nah. But only ‘cos my cock was too big for her pussy,” you return with a sneer.
* * * * *
While your other bodies remain at the school after classes to do homework, you drive Marc-you and Hannah-you out to Suffolk Wilderness, where you find a rock where they can sit and suck on each other’s tongue and tonsils while pumping streams of blue goo back and forth.
“I can fight my own battles,” Hannah-you tells her boyfriend between long, slurping kisses.
“I didn’t say you can’t. But you need friends.”
“I’ve got friends. Tara and Gabriela and Katrina.”
“They could be … more than friends.” Marc-you presses his tongue into his girlfriend’s mouth and sends another ropy worm sliding over it.
“If I did that,” Hannah-you groans when they break off, “I could just turn Anita and Dominique and them into friends.”
You rub two noses together, and pull at two pairs of lips. “Even better,” one of your body says (they are pressed so close together it’s hard to tell which one you’re speaking with), “we could get into Anita and her friends and make it a real war. Give the whole school something to talk about.”   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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