Shattered Chances: A Breaking Black Companion Novel (2 page)

My Uncle Shawn came onto the field and blew his whistle, calling all the Bulldogs to the field.

“I want a clean game. Work together!” my uncle said as he grabbed both mine and Colt’s helmets. “Not kidding, fellas!”

As the ref blew the whistle, we got into formation, ready to take on the pathetic 0-7 Lawson High Lions.

***

The game was going fine until the fourth quarter. We were up by two solid goals. First, Kenny Fischer, being the moron that he is, fumbled the ball and the Lions intercepted, and scored a touch down. That’s nothing compared to the travesty that happened next. Our brain dead quarterback got the ball back, I’m ten yards from the end zone, TEN YARDS, and what does he do? He throws it to #11 who was at the 13 yard line. Let’s do the math… Ten versus thirteen. Which do you think is closer? Ding Ding Ding! We have a winner! But what does jackass do? He throws it to his new best friend, #11. Don’t get me wrong, the guy got the touchdown, but I would have made that goal look good. Instead, #11 damn near barreled me over to get the damn ball in the end zone. To say I was pissed, would the highlight of the year from Captain Obvious.

While the rest of my team mates celebrated the 21-17 win over the Lions, I was racing after #11 up the tunnel that led to the locker rooms. I probably looked completely insane, I could feel the rage rising within me. Finally, I was just a feet behind him.

“What the hell, man?!” I yell loudly at #11, but they acted like they couldn’t hear me, quietly strolling up the tunnel at a leisurely pace.

“Dude, you deaf?! I had that ball!” I screamed, getting more and more pissed off by the second.

Colt, who was only a few feet behind me, started laughing hard. “Ford, you didn’t have shit. There were three guys on you and 11 was wide open.”

“Fuck off, McClain!” I screamed, casting him a vicious look.
Shit he’s annoying!

“Dude!” I continued calling after #11 as I gripped up his jersey.

#11 shrugged me off, pushing me hard against the brick wall. I must have looked shocked. The player pressed a finger hard into my chest.

“What man?! Come at me, bro!” I demanded. If they were going to put their hands on me, they were going to get a fight.

They hadn’t said a word, though. I stayed silent in mixed shock and curiosity. The hand that was laid upon my chest had glittery purple polish lacquered on the nails. A laugh sounded from behind the helmet as they lifted a hand to remove the helmet from their head.

As the helmet was removed from the player’s head, I was rendered speechless. Soft brown hair fell in waves over the player’s shoulder and the sweetest pair of blue eyes I had ever seen stared back at me. #11 wasn’t a guy after all, but a girl. A really pretty girl.

“Come at you?” the girl said as she smiled, the curve of her lip curling up as she ran her hand through her still wet chestnut hair.

As her polished finger nails reach the ends of her hair, she placed both hands on my chest. My heart was hammering and I must have looked dumbstruck.

“What are you doing?” I asked dumbly.

Seriously? That’s what you say at a moment like this?

#11 had a devilish look in her eyes.

“Comin’ at you… Bro.”

Before I could even reply, the girl had rushed me. Her lips locked with mine, and I swear, every nerve was alive and on fire. My skin tingled as I pulled her tight and kissed her back. I didn’t know her. I didn’t care. She was a small piece of unexpected heaven. But as quick as she rushed me, she retreated, leaving me with just a small taste of what she had to offer. I watched as she darted up the tunnel, leaving me standing stunned.

“Hey!” I called after her, desperate for something more. A name. A number. Hell, I’d even settle for a go to hell. I just wanted her to say something; validate that this was real.

“What?!” the girl said turning around on her heel with a cocky look on her face.

“What’s your name?” I asked and I smiled at her. I couldn’t help it. What the hell was happening to me? I’m smiling at her like an idiot?!

The girl winked at me slyly and said, “Cheyenne West.”

“Randy Ford,” I spit out.

“Meet on the Center in twenty,” Cheyenne said as she disappeared into the girl’s locker room with a sneaky smile on her face.

As I watched the door slam shut, I fell back on the wall and let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

4.

Cheyenne

My heart raced as I sped off to the empty girl’s locker room – a perk of being the only girl on an all boy football squad. I had never been so bold. I don’t even know what had come over me. I had just demanded a date from Randy Ford. We had a few classes together, though I doubt he recognized me. The day the Principal introduced me to my teachers and classmates, Randy was out sick, and I like to blend in. I had met his sister Averi on my first day, and she seemed nice. But then, when she went to introduce me to her brother, he snapped! Randy saw Colt McClain making eyes at his little sister, and Randy chased him down the hallway like a madman. Most people would have been like, “Holy shit, Batman!” but I actually found him to be adorable. Colt had a good six inches on Randy, but Randy didn’t care. He had a cute face, anybody could see that. But he was feisty, protective, and as he ripped off down the hallway, I couldn’t help but smile. That boy has spunk. Pretty boys bore me. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a boy that looks at his reflection more than me. If my past has proved anything, it’s that I need a guy who is as rough around the edges as I am.

Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as I slowly pulled a brush through my hair. I wanted to rush, beat him out to center field, but that would destroy my so-called plan. I had him right where I wanted him… I think. It’s not like I had practice doing this sort of thing. I had one other boyfriend in Omaha and that lasted a whole four days when I found out that Kyle enjoyed having a different flavor girl for each day of the week. He was an ass. With that being said, I didn’t have much of a plan, per se… just an idea. I’ve always been a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl I’m talking my good old time. Let him simmer. I’ll rescue him before his nerves roll into a full boil.

I traded in my bulky football gear and slid into a pair of boot cut jeans with rips at the knee, my red Chuck Taylors, and plain white t-shirt and my old faithful, my jean jacket with all my patches across the back. It’s my own personal work of art. I’m the artistic type, always have been. I find things and make them my own. This jacket is no different. It’s vintage, but when I found it, it just had a Kokopelli patch on the right shoulder. Poor guy seemed lonely sitting on my shoulder playing the flute all alone, so I gave him some friends. A Grateful Dead bear, a tie-dye alien throwing up a peace sign, patches of my favorite bands. It’s a conversation starter to say the least. I topped off my ensemble with a pair of gold hoop earrings. I’m not much of a glitter and makeup kind of girl; a little nail polish, some cherry lip balm and I am good to go. This was a source of contention for my mother, but my father said I was a natural beauty and I believed him.

I glanced at my watch… Fifteen minutes had passed. A pair of cheerleaders banged into the locker room. I think the one’s name is Stephanie who was rambling on and on about her crush on Randy. Cross her name off the list of girls that might be cool to hang out with. I listen to her chat to her friend and she sounds like a squeaky, vapid idiot. I want to take a dart a pop her bubble head. Yes, I said it. Pop! Keep dreaming, girl. He’s mine.

I couldn’t help but smile as Stephanie continued to whine to her friend as I pulled my lip balm across my bottom lip. With one last look in the mirror, I was finally ready for Randy.

***

He was waiting for me at center field, just like I had asked. All the players and their families had cleared out, even Randy’s own. He looked sheepish standing out there, shy almost, but I knew as well as anyone that looks could be deceiving. His hands were trapped in the front pockets of his baggy Levis, his shaggy blond hair trapped under his fitted Cowboys cap that he wore backwards on his head.

“I’m here,” he said with a coy smirk growing on his face, his eyes lighting up as he looked at me.

“So you are,” I replied, trying not to reveal the excitement I felt coursing through my body.

God, I was like a giddy school girl. Oh, wait. Right. I
am
a giddy school girl. I suppose this is acceptable behavior, then.

He took his hands out of his pockets and curled his thumbs through his belt loops as he surveyed me, wondering what I was playing at. When I didn’t say anything, he finally spoke.

“Now what?”

“You tell me.”

He smiled playfully as he rocked on his heels.

“Let me take you out.”

It wasn’t a request but a demand.

I laughed, “Okay…”

“Okay? You said okay?”

“I said okay… but you gotta catch me first.”

“What?”

But before I said a word I had turned quick on my heels, darting across the football field.

“Hard to get!” he yelled at me as he chased behind me. He was fast, but I was faster.

“Try impossible!” I yelled back, my face red from running.

I couldn’t help but laugh as the blood rushed from my heart, adrenaline coursing through my veins. He chased me clear across the field, down the tunnel, up the stairs and through the lobby. He nearly caught me in the arcade, but I slid through the crowd and damn near crashed into the Pac Mac video game. He wasn’t far behind me now, but I still had the lead, and that’s what counted, but suddenly, I found myself in a dead end. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me into the lobby, but it was jam-packed with people. The marching band had the exit blocked. Their bus hadn’t arrived yet and their captain thought that the entryway would be the perfect place to set up camp with forty-two band members complete with feathered hats and sequined jackets. They carried a variety of musical instruments including drums, flutes, trumpets, tambourines and one ridiculously oversized tuba. Randy had caught up to me and had the smuggest look on his face as if he had the biggest bag of tricks up his sleeve. His sneakers screeched against the tile floor, as he skidded towards me.

I laughed at him, backing away as I looked for a way to break through the crowd.

Randy must’ve noticed someone in the crowd that he recognized. He called out over the crowd, “Yo, Torian!”

A thin, dark skinned boy with a head of wild hair perked up. He smiled with a mouth full of pearly white teeth and he looked like he was up to no good.

Oh, great. Trombone boy.

But rather than giving his buddy a high five, Torian did something else… Something far worse. I watched as the kid was swallowed by the crowd. A few of the marching band members huddled into a group and several began to laugh, but instead of dispersing they all picked up their instruments. Wide-eyed, I looked at Randy who could barely control his laughter.

Naturally, I picked the class clown.

But before I could think on it anymore, a familiar song filled up the crowded space.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older?

The melody of the Beach Boys hit, “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” sounded out in the entryway. I could hear the lyrics in my head as the band played. I felt like the room was spinning.

Wouldn’t it be nice to live together?

No guy had ever performed a grand gesture for me before. Especially one as impromptu as this.

I wish every kiss was never ending!

The blood was rushing to my brain. What the hell was happening?! The ball was in my court and here comes Randy and it’s a total turnover. He’s smiling at me like I’m the best thing since sliced bread. Damn, he’s cute. The song played on rendering me stupid.

We could be married… Oh, wouldn’t it be nice?

He walked towards me with this devil may care attitude. Trombone boy was bouncing around, happy as can be. As the final verse of the song played, all of Randy’s shyness was gone. He grabbed my left hand, sighed softly and looked me in my eyes. Bringing his lips to my ear, he brushed my hair aside and whispered, “Gotcha.”

Without thinking, I simply reacted saying the one thing that would get him to kiss me.

“Yeah, you’ve got me.”

A midst the scene of trombone and tuba players, the flutists, Will on the drum, Shelly Carmichael with her tambourine, Mrs. Galloway waving her detention slips as she tried to get everyone to simmer down, Randy kissed me. His lips rushed mine at break neck speed. I was certain the earth was off its axis as our tongues danced and his hands drifted down my back, pulling me closer. Randy’s marching band buddies broke out into a raucous applause. Shelly turned her nose up and yelled, “Get a room, Randy!”

The music director Mrs. Galloway stormed through. “What is the meaning of this?!” she yelled as she berated Torian and tapped Randy on his shoulder.

Our kiss broke in a laugh as Randy grabbed my hand. We ran through the crowd, dodging Mrs. Galloway and her detention slips. As we pushed through the double doors of the Major Drummar Oakeley field, Randy yelled back to Torian, “Owe you one, T!”