Melody and Harmony: Page 16

Foster nodded. "It's like a prayer. Or a Talisman would probably be more accurate, I guess." He shrugged. "What ever you want to call it, it's a way of staying in the good graces of the god of wind."

Aaron nodded. They came to a worn and dented, long faded brown outer airlock door. Aaron knocked four times in an odd broken pattern. "And whats the Pirate Queen's story?" He asked as the door slowly opened.

Foster followed Aaron into the airlock. "It's one of the oldest pirate rock songs. Talking about how we're sailors without a sea, and now a kingdom without a ruler. Our pirate queen was so in love with sailing that she unfurled the sails of her soul and let the god of wind take her away from the only safe harbor any of us ever truly know." The Outer air lock door hissed closed and sealed itself.

Aaron nodded. "So she died and went to Heaven." He interpreted.

Foster shook his head. "Not exactly" He corrected with a smile as the inner air lock door opened. He had been expecting another dance club and was surprised instead to to find a very large and very welcoming apartment with a large open central area.

Aaron led him in to the main area and kicked off his shoes. Foster followed suit. "Welcome to our Hideout." He held his arms open. "Don't get any ideas, we're not rich or anything. I'd say ninety percent of this is either scrounged or stolen." He sloughed his jacket off and dumped it onto a nearby table before flopping into a large jet black bean bag chair. Once he was comfortable he loudly whistled a four note jingle that seemed to echo off the walls.

"Finally!" A girls voice replied from the second floor.

Aaron looked at Foster with a smile. "Make yourself at home and feel free to explain what 'not exactly' means." He gestured to a near by empty chair.

Spoonerville: Page 15

Rodney's walk was longer than he had anticipated. The fence around the football field had already been locked so he had to walk the long way around. It was just past three and the sun was hours from setting but the tree line was tall enough that he had been walking in shade for a while. The wind was picking up and he could hear it the trees, even his noise-canceling headphones couldn't block it out entirely.

It was obvious now that Derek knew how Rodney felt about his sister. He was apparently comfortable enough with the idea to give both of them shit about what appeared to be mutual interest.

He could feel the heat sinking out of his body through his feet and into the ground with each step he took.

It was embarrassing though. The way he made fun of them. It was entirely possible that he was only cracking jokes to hide his discomfort at the idea of his friend and his sister dating.

Rodney zipped up his hoodie and shoved his hands in the pockets.

If it were his sister, he'd be furious. He'd have no way of knowing if his best and only friend was hanging out with him just to spend time with her! And that kind of deception meant they weren't really friends! And if Rodney would kill the imaginary guy dating his imaginary sister then it was logical to assume that Derek was planning to kill him, and Rodney couldn't allow that.

Rodney was still in the shade of the tree line, and he had begun to veer toward it as he continued walking. The concept of killing Derek so he could be with Vivian consequence-free had ensnared him. He did a one-eighty and began to walk back in the direction he had come from, continuing to veer closer to the tree line.

He couldn't guarantee that killing Derek would go off without a hitch. There were several things to consider, the most pressing was that once he had successfully killed the jailor of his eternal love he would have to dispose of the body. But if Vivian truly loved him she would be an ally in solving the problem of the body and any others that came up along the way. Such was the power and dedication of true love.

He had doubled back again walking towards his grandmother's house. He was coming close to the edge of the tree line and about to pull another one-eighty when he tripped over his own two feet and fell past the shade of the treeline and into the warmth of the sun. He picked himself up and dusted himself off and could remember the absolute determination he had just felt to murder his best friend.

The chill of the shade returned, this time with him standing fully in the warmth of the sun and he knew without out a doubt that he had made two very important decisions.

The first was that he would never tell anyone what had just gone through his mind.

The second was that he would never, ever, walk the tree line again.

He turned back towards his grandmother's house and tried to remain calm, but found himself sprinting to her door before he could even think of walking.

Shades of Justice: Page 47

Kelly was a great swimmer. She was good at sprints but better at distance. She had absolutely shattered school records and been a dependable scorer since she was a freshman. The other girls called her a work horse, her coach called her “hey you!” or “The quiet one.” She was not a star player, never one of the favorites. She was in all ways, exceptionally invisible.

And she liked it that way.

She had only touched the pool once since becoming a Shade and it had been forty minutes of pure bliss. This time she told herself she didn’t even need to swim. She could just relax, float, and let her ear plugs join forces with the water and make her functionally deaf to the world.

She didn’t even notice she had started laps until she was in the middle of her third turn. STOP! a part of her brain demanded. You can’t run away from this! It warned. There is no lap number, no yardage that will give you enough distance to make a clean get away!

She swam until her arms and legs were screaming louder than her mind.

When she stopped she was almost eight thousand yards away from where she had started, but when she pulled her goggles off and her earplugs out she was still in the same pool, the same school, the same life, with the same problems.

Her arms were pillars of flaming jello but she still pulled herself up out of the water and onto the deck. She rolled over onto her back and let the rush of oxygen from her huge chest raising breaths artificially lighten her mood.

“Did you make it?” Gordon asked.

Kelly opened her eyes. Gordon was looking down at her. She sat up slowly. “Nope. I got seventy eight hundred yards in before I realized I was still here.” She sighed.

He sat next to her. “There are more efficient ways to escape.” He pointed out.

She nodded. “Escape from what? I can go anywhere I want, when ever I want.” She admitted.

He nodded. “But your still stuck inside your own head.” He admitted looking at the school record board on the far side of the pool.

She looked at him for a second. “Why are you here?” She asked.

He shrugged and then met her gaze. “If I have to be stuck in this prison.” He tapped his head. “The least I can do is get to know the people in the other cells.” He smiled.

They both went back to looking at the scoreboard.

The surface of the pool had long ago gone flat like glass before she realized they were holding hands.

Lidarion: Page 41

Obla'reth returned to the podium. He opened the book and continued to translate. "It is in the best interest of all races and the paragons for the paragon's to be left alone. But the titans were not stupid. There was no point to creating stewards of the world if the world could not call upon them when needed." He turned the page. "And so there were legends and songs placed in every society. Seeded into every generation."

Obla'reth looked up from the book. "You already know how to contact the paragons." He said.

Squints sighed. "I'm pretty sure I'd remember knowing how to summon the paragons." He said.

Obla'reth looked down at him. "Do you have a particular interest in nursery rhymes, and bed time stories?" He asked.

Squints opened his mouth and froze for a second.

Brooke jumped in. "Blessed is the king of the Earth, Sitting in the heart of the crown."

Squints shook his head. "There is no crown mountain or mountain range. It's just a song, it doesn't exist." He sighed again.

"Yes it did." Harruff spoke up for the first time in hours. "Names rarely live as long as the things they identify. Crown in the oldest Minotaur language roughly translates to Urune." He explained.

Squints shook his head "I thought Urune meant hat?" He asked.

Harruff shrugged "I did say 'roughly'" He replied.

"How does this help us?" Lisa asked.

Squint's eyes lit up. "Because before we referred to that range as the 'The cliff cities' it was the Urune mountain range." he said with a smile.

Trent looked skeptical. "Who thought that 'The hat mountains' was a good name?" He grumbled.

Squints sighed "I think your missing the point."

Melody and Harmony: Page 15

They waited until the other side of the door was silent as the grave, and when Aaron opened the door the sun had already risen over the wall that bordered the city. Foster squinted in the early morning light and felt the desire to be anywhere but where he was. "Thanks for not killing me," He paused as he realized that Aaron had saved him not once but twice. "And then helping me escape the cops. But my mom's probably lost her mind by now so I'm out." He turned to head back to his part of town. The sound of the gun stopped him cold.

"You haven't told me about your bag." Aaron reminded him.

Foster sighed heavily. "You didn't want to talk in the hideaway, I doubt you want to do it here in the alley, so" He turned back towards Aaron and gestured for them to go.

Aaron stuffed the gun in his pocket. "Look I just need to know what the symbol means." he said, leading Foster to a safer location.

Foster shrugged, explaining as they made their way in between buildings. "it's a reference to a lyric from an old Setting Sails song." He said as if that explained everything.

Aaron nodded. "And whats the lyric?" he asked.

Foster was getting antsy. " I am driven to traverse every sea without fail, for if I have breath in my lungs I'l have wind for my sail." He said with impatience.

Aaron was lost. "Why would she have that as a tattoo?" he muttered to himself.

Foster raised an eyebrow. "So you do know the song?" He asked.

Aaron shook his head. "Never heard it my life." he admitted.

Foster. "So then how'd you know about the pirate queen?" He asked. "She has the winds of all seasons tattooed on her shoulder."

Aaron opened a door and ushered Foster into a dimly lit hallway. "The winds of all seasons?" He asked.

Spoonerville: Page 14

The rest of Rodney's first day was fairly uneventful. Vivian had her TA period to close out the day while the boys had P.E. Neither Rodney or Derek were any good at basketball which left them little to be excited about for the next month.

The final bell rang and the parking lot flooded with kids. Rodney was on his way out of the gum when his phone buzzed. It was a text from his grandmother.

[Tuna noodle casserole for dinner tonight, so don't make any plans with your friends. During the school year Monday and Wednesday are family dinner night.]

[Sounds good to me.]

Derek appeared next to Rodney as he was sending off his reply. "Down for some GoldenEye tonight?" He asked.

Rodney shook his head. "I can tonight. Gran's imposing family dinner nights on Monday and Wednesday." He explained.

Derek nodded. "Sweet! That leaves us the 'Za days to hang out." He said with a smile.

"'Za days?" Rodney asked.

Derek nodded. "Yeah, Tue 'Za Day, and Thur 'Za Day" He laughed at his terrible joke.

Rodney shook his head. "See the problem is you're not even ashamed."

Derek shrugged as the exited the building. "Geniuses rarely are." He boasted with a puffed up chest.

The parking lot was beginning to empty out. Vivian was leaning against the driver side door of the Volvo playing with her phone. She pocketed it as the boys approached. "Great." She sighed looking them over. "Sweaty boys, just what the leather interior needed." She groaned.

Rodney shook his head. "Your car is partially spared. I'm walking home." He confirmed while jutting his thumb at the worn out football field behind him and the more worn out houses beyond.

Vivian opened the driver's side door and unlocked the passenger side so her brother could get in the car. "You sure?" She asked.

Rodney nodded. "I've been nonexistent around the house the last few weeks. Gran wants to build a family tradition."

Vivian nodded but didn't get in the car. "Well," she paused. "Tell her I said hi, and you to enjoy yourselves." She said with a soft smile.

Derek lowered his window enough to stick his head out. "Just make out already!" He yelled at both of them.

Vivian and Rodney blushed at the same moment and Vivian broke eye contact to jam her finger into the 'window up' button on her door handle. Her brother was cackling like a hyena and pulled his head back in just quick enough to barely avoid getting trapped by the rising window. When she looked back in Rodney's direction he had already started for his grandmother's house and was waving in her direction without looking back.

Shades of Justice: Page 46

Dante slept hard and woke up tossing and turning. It took him a moment to realize where he was and what had been happening before his nightmares. He wiped sweat from his brow and Sat up, instantly feeling the wear and tear from the last few days in his shoulders. He yawned so deeply his jaw popped. He got up off the bed and slid his shoes back on. Near the door he smelled coffee.

Further down the hall he found a large room that looked more like an office building break room than a futuristic command center. There was a coffee pot on the counter that was almost full and bubbling happily. He opened cabinets until he found a mug and grabbed the coffee pot to fill it.

He was alone at a table over a half drunk mug when Mark walked into the room. "Good morning." He offered, grabbing his own mug from the cupboard. "You snore like a demon, by the way." he said with a smile. "So I hope you slept well, because I didn't" He took his full mug and sat at the table with Dante.

Dante was dazed, and still half awake. "Nightmare's." He grunted. "Feels less like I slept and more like I was dead for a few hours." He sipped from his cup. "Did I miss anything?" He asked.

Mark shook his head. "No, I would have waken you for anything important." He assured. 

They sat in silence drinking coffee for a few moments. Waking reality was starting to seep back into Dante's mind. He got up and started to pace slowly. "How long do you think she'll be unconscious?" He asked.

Mark shrugged. "I dunno, I'm not a doctor." He said with little comfort.

Dante kept moving. "I should have gone instead of her." He told mostly himself.

Mark "Oh sure, That's why there are five of you. So the other four can beat themselves up every time one of you makes a dangerous decision. It's fun, you'll see. The bad guys aren't the real danger, it's the ulcers from guilt that'll really kill you." He finished and drank his coffee.

Dante stopped pacing. "Look I appreciate everything you've done for us, really I do, but are you our boss? the sixth member of the team? the Obi-Wan to our five lukes?" Dante asked.

Mark tried not to smile. "Why do you ask?" He asked.

Dante shrugged. "Because if she weren't on that med bay I wouldn't stick around here any longer than I physically had to and I can't think of a reason that anyone would. So why'd you stay?" He asked.

Mark thought about it for a second, sipped his coffee and set it down on the table softly. "Shakespeare" He finally replied.

Dante was thrown for a loop. "Excuse me?" He asked.

Mark smiled. "Plenty and peace breeds cowards, hardness ever of hardiness is mother." He clarified.

Dante was still lost. "You say that like it makes sense." He pointed out.

Mark "There is a mindset among a certain type of person, that there is an inherent horribleness in the universe that travels by way of osmosis. More easily infecting and thus destroying anyone who has known an easy and carefree life. That only constant preparation and holding watch against evils both great and terrible can successfully prepare a person to repel such evils should the need arise, and that a society that sees no need in such a preparation is not only destined for destruction but unworthy of the lofty position previous hardened souls lifted it too in the first place." He stopped to take a drink.

Dante "And this is what you believe?" He asked.

Mark shook his head. "The exact opposite in fact." He smiled. "I believe that we have an unfortunate addiction to believing our narrative is the central and singular reason for the existence of the universe, and that to believe such a thing regardless of all the evidence to the contrary is to turn a blind eye to the incomprehensibly vast and impossibly chaotic universe."

Dante nodded "So you do believe that peace breeds weakness." He circled back around.

Mark shook his head. "No I believe that ignorance does, but the human mind can only focus on so much at any one moment. And if keeping the peace for my friends and family and everyone else on earth means my life is focused on the villainy of extra-terrestrial chaos, then so be it. I will be the hardness ever of hardiness that breeds the plenty and peace."

Dante swirled the last bit of coffee in his mug. "What about the cowards?" He asked.

Mark finished his coffee. "That's what Shakespeare and every other doomsday preper got wrong. Peace doesn't breed cowards. Cowards just are and always will be. There is no amount of hardness that can breed out fear, nor breed it in any deeper than it already is." He stood up and smiled at Dante. "I stay because this seems like the best place for me to do the most good I know how to do. And that helps me sleep at night." He shut off the coffee maker. "Now come on, let's go check on Sonya." He finished.

Blood and Profit: Page 69

Mew had flown a lot of ships in her lifetime. From civilian cruisers all the way up to vehicle haulers. She had never flown the ship she found 'out back'. A vintage Shenear Luxury CT4. One of the most sought after space legal vehicles on the planet.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Ling.

"I know right?" Ling answered.

"Ling, I used to dream about this Shenear CT4 and you guys want me to use it for an errand?" She almost shouted.

"It's a ship!" The professor shouted. "We needed a ship, now get in the ship, and go confirm our tests at the ring, please!" He yelled.

She could hear Ling walk out into the hallway away from the lab. "He really doesn't care about it, I honestly don't even know where he got it." She said before she ended the call.

Mew used the keys to open the door and it slid open in total silence. not even the hint of a compressor hiss or a gear spinning. She carefully stepped inside and marveled at the incredible hand done interior leather. She ran her hands along the mid wall seam as she stepped into the pilot bay. Sitting in the chair was like sitting in a cloud that was made specifically for her. After three minutes of just enjoying the experience of sitting in the CT4 she couldn't wait any longer and she started the ship. The door closed and the engine roared to life exactly as it had in ever vid she'd ever seen that had a CT4 in it.

It had been years since she thought of flying as anything other than a chore, and now because of this ship she was dreamily making her way off to do legitimate chores. She barely even noticed the almost two hour wait for the pattern to clear so she could safely transfer to orbit around the colony.

Once she was in orbit she took the opportunity to open the engine up and give it some room to run.

She zipped over to the ring at just over 60% of maximum engine thrust and could feel the rest of the ships power silently begging to be set free.

She was reaching for the throttle when the comms chimed. "Hey!" The professor shouted. "Are you there yet?" he asked, clearly frustrated by the waste of several hours.

She pressed a button to open the channel from her side. "Yeah, just got here." She confirmed.

"Good." He calmed down. "Let's get to work" He said almost sounding something close to happy.

Lidarion: page 42

Obla'reth returned to the podium. He opened the book and continued to translate. "It is in the best interest of all races and the paragons for the paragon's to be left alone. But the titans were not stupid. There was no point to creating stewards of the world if the world could not call upon them when needed." He turned the page. "And so there were legends and songs placed in every society. Seeded into every generation."

Obla'reth looked up from the book. "You already know how to contact the paragons." He said.

Squints sighed. "I'm pretty sure I'd remember knowing how to summon the paragons." He said.

Obla'reth looked down at him. "Do you have a particular interest in nursery rhymes, and bed time stories?" He asked.

Squints opened his mouth and froze for a second.

Brooke jumped in. "Blessed is the king of the Earth, Sitting in the heart of the crown."

Squints shook his head. "There is no crown mountain or mountain range. It's just a song, it doesn't exist." He sighed again.

"Yes it did." Harruff spoke up for the first time in hours. "Names rarely live as long as the things they identify. Crown in the oldest minotaur language roughly translates to Urune." He explained.

Squints shook his head "I thought Urune meant hat?" He asked.

Harruff shrugged "I did say 'roughly'" He replied.

"How does this help us?" Lisa asked.

Squint's eyes lit up. "Because before we referred to that range as the 'The cliff cities' it was the Urune mountain range." he said with a smile.

Trent looked skeptical. "Who thought that 'The hat mountains' was a good name?" He grumbled.

Squints sighed "I think your missing the point."

Melody and Harmony: Page 14

Foster, like the others was dead center of the spot light and had his hands up. He was trying to figure out where his night had gone so incredibly wrong. He shouldn't have quit the gang, it was the only life he had over known, and now he was going to prison.

The kid in white who had held him at gun point did not have his hands up. "Close your eyes." He whispered.

"Why?" Foster questioned.

"Just do it!" He snapped.

Foster closed his eyes and there was a bright flash, he could see the light even through, his eye lids. He felt the kid all in white grab his wrist and pulled him away from the alleyway.

"You can open your eyes now." He advised, as they continued to move.

Foster opened his eyes and followed the kid in white.

The kid in white stopped at a door he knocked three times with his knuckles and once with his elbow.

The door opened and the kid in white pulled Foster inside. As the door closed it faded into the wall indistinguishable from the rest of the wall.

Foster noticed immediately that the room they were in was very small, barely enough for the both of them. "What is this place?" He asked.

"Shhhh!" The kid in white hissed. "We needed a place to hide." He whispered.

Foster nodded. "Yeah but how did you even know this was here?" Foster asked in a whisper.

The kid in white turned away from the door and leaned against the wall "I do a lot of hiding, noticed pretty early on that there weren't enough places to hide. So my friends and I made some." He explained.

On the other side the door they could hear soldiers canvasing the alleyway

Shades of Justice: Page 45

After six hours of sleep, six sodas and six toaster pastries, Warren found himself on the bus headed to QQPewPew. He didn't really know what else to do with his free time.

He entered the mall through the food court and made his way down the hall to QQPewPew. He could see from a ways off that most of the screens were running the same match of the same game, which mean that there was a tournament of something playing. He got closer to the store and realized it was Heroes Guard. A team based, field control, character focused, First Person Shooter.

He walked into the store and move around and in between the audience, he stopped at Arthur's desk where Arthur was uncharacteristically watching the match rather than playing on his Gameboy. 

Arthur held his fist out and Warren bumped it. "Who's playing?" Warren asked.

"Scrubkings versus Fat Sami" Arthur replied without looking away from the match. 

Warren watched the match for a moment. The commentator camera was floating above the center of the arena and Turtle Soup was on a three kill streak effectively blocking the choke point allowing Falsetto to gain much needed distance to the goal.

Arthur pointed to the father and son that Warren had introduced himself to the last time he had been at the store. "You're friends are sitting right there. if you feel like saying hi after this point I'm sure they'd enjoy seeing you." He waved Warren off as Falsetto scored the point for his team and the match field reset to cheers and groans from the audience.

Warren made is way through the crowd over to the chairs where the father and son were sitting, kneeling down behind them as the commentators laid out the current game state. "Hey Frankie" Warren said almost had to shout. Frankie and his father turned around. "Who's winning?" He asked with a smile.

Frankie's eyes got wide and he smiled from ear to ear. "Warren!" he shouted into Warren's face.

"With the rest timer hitting ten seconds, it's looking more and more like this is Fat Sami's game to win unless the Scrubkings can figure out a way to neutralize Turtle Soup who has been playing at the top of his game today John." The first announcers voice oppressively filled the room.

"Don't count Scrubkings out yet Tory, Duster and Burnt Toast are both clutch players that have incredible records coming from behind to win not just matches, but entire tournaments for the Scubkings. These guys didn't make it to worlds on accident."

"Absolutely John, Well ladies and gentlemen the round has reset and we've gotten green lights from both Scrubkings and Fat Sami to begin round four."

The screen flashed from the commentators to the game area again as Warren, Frankie and his dad turned their attention to the match.

After the game had finished the three of them decided to have lunch in the food court before the afternoon matches got started. Frankie was almost coming out of his skin he was so excited. "How did you get started as a pro gamer?" he asked.

His father leaned over a little. "Frankie you don't need to bombard him with questions all the time." 

Frankie nodded. "Sorry."

Warren shook his head. "It's fine, I promise." He said with a smile. "I actually got really sick the summer before last and had a long recovery time. I was playing MS a lot because my parents cause it had been a birthday present. The end of that summer there was a pro qualifier tournament and I got notice that my player score was high enough to go. I told my mom that I wanted to at least try and so I basically took over my parents computer and practiced like crazy. My parents took me to the tournament and I came in somewhere in the low twenties out of the almost two hundred that showed up for the event. I even played a match that was streamed online. I made about three hundred for my placement and had my entry into fall qualifiers covered by the company. just like everyone else in the top fifty. I was hooked. Placed 8th at fall qualifiers, my parents wanted their computer back so I used part of my prize money to buy myself a laptop and never looked back." Warren explained.

Frankie nodded. and poked at his hot dog. "So why'd you quit?" He asked nervously.

Warren wiggled the straw in his drink for a second. "Because as much as I love gaming, I had some responsibilities come up that were more important. and unfortunately taking care of those responsibilities mean I had to put my gaming career on pause for a little while." He said sadly.

Frankie nodded again. "But you want to come back?" He asked.

Warren nodded. "Very much so, I hope when I do come back that the game hasn't passed me by yet." He said.

Frankie lit up."You're so good though! can't you keep practicing in your free time?" He almost shouted.

Warren smiled. "We'll see about that." he pointed at Frankie. "What about you? You going to stay a spectator or do you want to be a player?" he asked with a grin.

Frankie blushed and nodded to his dad. "I'm not nearly good enough." He replied.

His dad rustled his hair. "He's good enough to beat the pants off of me in every single game we've ever played. He's said he'd like to try for Heroes Guard when he gets old enough." His dad added.

Frankie looked shocked. "You said only if I kept my grades up, when I actually got to a grade that gave grades." He laughed.

His father nodded. "And that's still true. If trying out for a pro spot is something you want to do and you can balance it with school then I'll do what ever I can to help you son." His father smiled.

Warren finished his soda. smiling at the pair across the table from him. "Thanks for having lunch with me today." He thank them.

Frankie laughed. "You're thanking us!" He said in shock. "My friends at school still won't believe that I've meet you!" He couldn't keep his voice down.

Warren laughed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "How about a picture then?" He said.

Frankie was forcing himself not to vibrate into a different universe in excitement. "DAD, DAD, DAD," He shoved his own phone into his dad's fumbling hands as he jumped out of his chair and scrambled around the table. "take the picture dad!" He laughed as he stood next to Warren and they fist bumped and his father took awkwardly framed photo after awkwardly framed photo.

 

Shades of Justice: Page 44

Gordon arrived in the kitchen of his parents home. his phone said it was about ten in the morning on Tuesday but he was so tired that it didn't mean anything to his mind. He heated up two toaster waffles and ate them without thinking about it. withing fifteen minutes of getting home had kicked off his shoes and passed on on his bed.

He shot awake like a gun had gone off. His room was dark. the glasses in the pocket of his Letterman jacket were dark as well and had no messages waiting for him when he put them on. His phone said it was 5:30pm. He went downstairs and found his parents already home and going about their usual evening routines.

His mother was in the kitchen making something sweet for one charity or another. She had changed out of her business attire into old sweats and gotten right back to work. She saw him out of corner of her eye as she was pouring melted chocolate from a pot into a pan to cool. "Gordon, Your coach called today, he says you quit football." She said with most of her attention on the chocolate.

Gordon nodded. "I uh, I don't know, school's gotten pretty intense this year and football just isn't as fulfilling as it used to be, I guess." He fumbled.

His father came into the kitchen. "School and your grades is the most important thing son, but you also made a commitment to your team, and you don't learn anything about personal responsibility when you just give up on a commitment you've made because its no longer fun or entertaining. The coach and your teammates need to know they can count on you son." 

His father's lecture got under his skin. "And who am I supposed to count on Dad? And why does anyone have to count on anyone, it's a below average high school sport in a below average town, full of below average nobodies. It's not war Dad, its sports and in the long run if high school football is the reason I learned the be accountable for my commitments then you were pretty shitty parents." He snapped as he stomped out the kitchen and then the front door of the house.

He wandered for almost an hour and found himself led by the sounds of the football game being played at the high school. he was on the far side of the perimeter fence. His old team was ahead by a touchdown. He sat and watched the rest of the game, an easy victory, he never would have even stepped on the field had he still been on the team.

As everyone filed out of the stadium he made his way around to the entrance and slowly fought through the crowds. Once he was inside he made his way back to the locker room and ran into the coach as he was leaving the locker room having just given his post game speech.  He didn't seem surprised or angry. "Mr. Jones. Good to see you." He offered.

Gordon nodded. "I just wanted to come by and thank you for checking up on me with my parents. I know it wasn't the best way to quit the team but I gotta focus on school this year." He explained.

The coach nodded. "You know that excuse is only gonna fly until your report card comes out, the D's and F's are gonna knock it right out of the sky." He sighed. "You wanna maybe try the truth this time?" he asked. Gordon shook his head. "Is it drugs?" The coach asked. Gordon shook his head again. "Peer pressure?" he tried again. "You running with a dangerous crowd?" He dug a little deeper. 

Gordon looked down the hall at the patch of field he could see. "Maybe, but their dangerous for the right reason's." He explained.

The coach nodded. "Your parents ok with bailing you out of jail?" he asked again, no coldly, not judgmentally, just asking sincerely. 

Gordon shook his head.  "No, but jail is the last place I'll end up." he said flatly with huff.

The coach nodded. "The coffin is worse." He offered.

Gordon nodded. "How come you're so calm about this?" he asked.

The coach leaned against the cement block wall. "Because after seventeen years I've learned to spot the determined ones. I rarely know what their determined to do, but determination always looks the same, you guys wear your honor stapled to your chest and run breast first into the world like you're immortal." He sighed. "Once I spot the determined ones, its just a matter of clearing the road ahead for them as best I can before their gone." he got up off the wall. "So, you need the road cleared, you just let me know. You may not be on the team, but as long as you're a student, I'm your teacher." he said before patting him heavily on the shoulder and heading out to the field.

New Website!

I have moved to www.Jesse-Kincaid.com

All my stories are there. A link to my book, and a brand new layout that is designed to make reading a lot easier. So check it out, www.Jesse-Kincaid.com