Yay me. I'm gonna move back to Missouri now. I slept better there. Hmmm....I think I'm okay with everybody. I literally CON think of nobody besides my Mom that I'm on kind of bad terms with.
Good choice, I've heard the Grand Canyon's edges are dangerous all the time this year. Did you? Interesting.... Oops, moms are not fun people to be at odds with. Especially dangerous if they are the cooks. Well, surely things will be ironed out in due time.
Whoah, that's weird. Yeah, the soothing sound of the rushing water miles below me, the creaking of the house teetering there on the brink, a occasional loose brick splashing into the water... True dat. She is, and she is poisoning me with a gluten-free menu. It will be...when I move out.
-last edited on May 24, 2018 23:00:26 GMT by TheGreatCon
Post by TheGreatCon on May 24, 2018 22:59:10 GMT
~<>~
Now when they had said the el vaquero apartment building, I had figured that meant soccer in the street outside. Not the roof.
I peeked over the side at the ground, which was at least 50 feet away. “And what happens if we kick the ball over the side?”
“Our team loses.” Mateo said.
“Fair enough.” I shrugged, and turned to go help the guys clear the center of the roof of debris. How couches and refrigerators found their way up here was beyond me.
Mateo dropped a handful of wrappers over the side of the building, before waving to somebody on the ground. “Hey, there’s Celeste!” He motioned her to come up.
I sighed, and prayed she was afraid of heights or long stairwells.
~<>~
The game may have been for fun, but the way some of the guys played you would’ve of thought the losers were walking home in their boxers.
The ball, which looked like a rolling casualty, was currently being batted around between a tall player’s legs. He shot it off to a short guy from my school, who did a quick dribble with the side of his foot before trying to fake the charging defender. The guy neatly slipped the ball away from him, and shot it up field. My defense kicked it right back over the guy’s head, and one of our teammates managed to deflect the ball to a wing-man, who caught the ball on his foot, tossed it in the air and then did a spin-kick. The ball just barely missed the goal markers, and bounced off the slight ledge. A flying head-butt knocked it back up field. A guy did a quick carry-through that resulted in a one-on-one with me. I faked left, and then shot right as he fired. I came up with the ball, and rolled it to a teammate.
I slid back into position, and watched as the game played out before me. I refrained from shouting directives, knowing in the heat of the game they’d likely be ignored.
Celeste had barely touched the ball, after almost losing it over the side of the roof the last time she had kicked it. She had much to learn in the ways of the soccer, especially in the thing called ball-control.
Another attacker was closing in. He wound up for a long shot. I bunched up like a spring, ready to dive.
-last edited on May 25, 2018 21:54:00 GMT by TheGreatCon
Post by TheGreatCon on May 25, 2018 21:53:16 GMT
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING ON OUR ROOF?”
The guy with the ball misfired, alarmed by the shouting voice. I didn’t dive, which turned out to be a mistake, because I might’ve been able to save the ball from going over the ledge. It disappeared over the side.
There came a honk, a crash, and then the concerted cry of voices that indicated we had likely broken a windshield.
Now was the time to split and run.
I dashed towards the far stairwell, which as of yet was clear. I leapt down the first flight, but landed badly on my leg. I winced, and crumpled. I dragged myself back up, and pulled myself towards the railing. Players shot past me, on their way down.
Mateo slipped under my shoulder, silently supporting my weight. We prepared to go down.
Suddenly I heard the telltale clomp of the boots that the local police wore. I slipped inside a doorway, pulling Mateo along.
There were yells as they nabbed a few of the horde who was charging down at them. The rest would likely make good their escape.
Now what? Hide here? They weren’t likely to check every room for miscreants.
I glanced deeper into the room. A small girl was crouched there, pepper spray in her hands.
“Please, no.” I practically whimpered.
She pulled the trigger.
~<>~
For one game of soccer, I suffered a likely re-fractured leg, bad pepper burns, and detention at school.
Most of the guys bragged it was worth it. They didn’t spend half that night washing out their eyes.
At least I didn’t have to explain it to anybody, and suffer through their “I am incredibly disappointed in you” looks. Instead I had to suffer through a room of “he got sprayed by a girl” looks. Stories flew around the basement, but I just curled up in my blankets and attempted to count to ten without blinking.
The guy with the ball misfired, alarmed by the shouting voice. I didn’t dive, which turned out to be a mistake, because I might’ve been able to save the ball from going over the ledge. It disappeared over the side.
There came a honk, a crash, and then the concerted cry of voices that indicated we had likely broken a windshield.
Now was the time to split and run.
I dashed towards the far stairwell, which as of yet was clear. I leapt down the first flight, but landed badly on my leg. I winced, and crumpled. I dragged myself back up, and pulled myself towards the railing. Players shot past me, on their way down.
Mateo slipped under my shoulder, silently supporting my weight. We prepared to go down.
Suddenly I heard the telltale clomp of the boots that the local police wore. I slipped inside a doorway, pulling Mateo along.
There were yells as they nabbed a few of the horde who was charging down at them. The rest would likely make good their escape.
Now what? Hide here? They weren’t likely to check every room for miscreants.
I glanced deeper into the room. A small girl was crouched there, pepper spray in her hands.
“Please, no.” I practically whimpered.
She pulled the trigger.
~<>~
For one game of soccer, I suffered a likely re-fractured leg, bad pepper burns, and detention at school.
Most of the guys bragged it was worth it. They didn’t spend half that night washing out their eyes.
At least I didn’t have to explain it to anybody, and suffer through their “I am incredibly disappointed in you” looks. Instead I had to suffer through a room of “he got sprayed by a girl” looks. Stories flew around the basement, but I just curled up in my blankets and attempted to count to ten without blinking.
The best part is that I would’ve gotten both of those looks.
The guy with the ball misfired, alarmed by the shouting voice. I didn’t dive, which turned out to be a mistake, because I might’ve been able to save the ball from going over the ledge. It disappeared over the side.
There came a honk, a crash, and then the concerted cry of voices that indicated we had likely broken a windshield.
Now was the time to split and run.
I dashed towards the far stairwell, which as of yet was clear. I leapt down the first flight, but landed badly on my leg. I winced, and crumpled. I dragged myself back up, and pulled myself towards the railing. Players shot past me, on their way down.
Mateo slipped under my shoulder, silently supporting my weight. We prepared to go down.
Suddenly I heard the telltale clomp of the boots that the local police wore. I slipped inside a doorway, pulling Mateo along.
There were yells as they nabbed a few of the horde who was charging down at them. The rest would likely make good their escape.
Now what? Hide here? They weren’t likely to check every room for miscreants.
I glanced deeper into the room. A small girl was crouched there, pepper spray in her hands.
“Please, no.” I practically whimpered.
She pulled the trigger.
~<>~
For one game of soccer, I suffered a likely re-fractured leg, bad pepper burns, and detention at school.
Most of the guys bragged it was worth it. They didn’t spend half that night washing out their eyes.
At least I didn’t have to explain it to anybody, and suffer through their “I am incredibly disappointed in you” looks. Instead I had to suffer through a room of “he got sprayed by a girl” looks. Stories flew around the basement, but I just curled up in my blankets and attempted to count to ten without blinking.
“Dude, what is wrong with you?” Mateo chucked me on the shoulder.
I shoved him back. “Way to shove me in the fire, friend!”
“Dischivalrous disgrace!” He pummeled me.
“On purpose!” I pounded him back, and we rolled off the back of the crate in a heap. We tussled on the ground briefly, before the teacher stood over us and started counting down from five, spray-paint can in hand.
We separated, shook hands, and were back atop the crate in four.
OOC: Two parts in one day to finish a scene. Sorry.
OOC: Con, how could you? You know it's hard enough for me to catch up as it is.
Well, surely things will be ironed out in due time. 
Anyway can't wait to see what's next!! 
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
*Shudders* 
