Just a game - Solo

Just a game

Tyren Orca(?) - District Two - Seventeen

It's quite a big thing, getting a tattoo. Half of you really does want it, whilst the other half is fearful, scared and anxious to know the real danger of the likely pain, or even the reality of a bad job. That's the truth of it, it could be bad. In this district, there's few good places to get yourself a decent piece of art through ink. Expression is reduced in the art world, so most of the designers and tattoo artists work in underground businesses. As such, that's where I'll have to go if I want one. I've been thinking about it for a long time now. I used to have a good, large tattoo on my back. Me and Alex got matching versions; a vulture carrying the districts in its claws. It spreads across our backs like a true piece of art. It was professionally done for our seventeenth birthday, so that we could have something to remember our childhoods by. We got the same because we're twins, but he looks only like a brother since we're not identical.

That tattoo is ruined now, on my body at least. I don't get to see it very much but when I do, it has a huge scar running through the middle from left to right, top to bottom. That's Matthew Dunham's fault. He caused it by sending a spear streaming across my bad like a glaive. He told me, since we're friends now, how it wasn't his weapon of choice. I found it hard to believe, but I lost to somebody who wasn't even using their favourite weapon. Today I want to get something on my arms. My arms are quite well built in that they are muscular, but only to the extent that then muscle is quite clean, an tight. It isn't bulging out of my shirts and it isn't causing stupid problems, it's where I want it; snug.

I'm only just waking up, and at this point the routine is the same as always. I just get up, take a look in the mirror and use the bathroom for all it's worth. I slip on my usually casual outfit, a nice grey hoodie and some black sweatpants. I like this hoodie simply because it had a nice black trim to the tightening laces that can adjust the hood, and the zip as well. Unlike my other house, my old one, Alex doesn't sleep in the same room as me. It used to be that we would have separate beds at either side of our previously small room. Now, he has his own room (which still has two beds for some reason) and I have my own smaller room, too. In ways, I've preferred this. The only problem is that it breaks the norm to which I have been used to for eighteen years. We have never not shared a room. Even when we briefly attended the peacekeeper academy, we somehow managed to share a room out of all the available candidates.

I head downstairs and make myself some toast. I don't like eating too much in the mornings because it can upset my stomach. Especially the bland taste of cereal, even if it is chocolate-filled. My mother and father are discussing something in the kitchen which is technically the same room as the living room. The TV is on and I think I'm able to watch something without being disturbed. "Morning, Tyren." I hear from my mother. It's not at all a strangeness in this house to be greeted; we all talk to one and other, despite the largeness of our household. We have Alba, my seventeen year old cousin. She's got lovely hair that always seems to change colour from browns to lighter browns. Never any outrageous tones. The there's Alex, my brother, Tyler is my three year old brother. Our parents live here. Max is my twenty year old cousin, and he lives here too. His sister is Tara, fifteen, and she lives here. Their parents... Alba's parents... There's a lot of us. "Morning." I grumble a little, the grogginess of my sleep showing through. They seem to leave me be, but I hear some footsteps coming down the stairs. If people are starting to wake up, I can assume that I won't get a chance to watch anything after all. I don't turn to look to see who is coming, so a moment later when Alex comes and slams himself next to me with a grin on his face, I was a little startled. He always looks quite calm and collected. In reality, that would be about right. He's got a nice smooth stubble that is a little longer than five days worth of growth. Mine isn't as much as his, but I'd say we're both capable of pulling it off, despite our youth. His eyes are another thing he shares with me; both brown. Most people say we look so similar, but I don't see it except for those things. "Today's the day. Are you ready?" Today's the day... Today's the day... What for? Surely it is something important that my sleepiness has blocked. I envy everybody else and their early enthusiasm. "The game...?" Of course. The football game. Our football game. "Oh, I almost forgot." I chuckle a little, lying entirely because I had forgotten. I'm not necessarily a good liar but he seems to have played into it apparently.

"So, are you getting that tattoo afterwards?" I nod at him, delving into the toast. "Only if we win." That gives me a chance to back out, at least. Not that I'd ever throw the game. "That gives us something to aim for at least." I give his words a smile, "That it does." Well we'll need to get some practice in, get warmed up and such.

We head out a bit later. We'll be going to the factory where the game is. They have a big field and everyone will be gathered there. We'll have a quick practice game beforehand and that'll get us warned up, then the real opposition will come out and we'll face them. Football is probably the second best thing in my life, so it must be very obvious by now to Alex that I am excited. Usually, our team would play well. We're a collective bunch but one if us can't make it, so we're limited by a central midfielder. I asked my other cousin, Mark, to join us. Neither me or Alex are the team captain, but I think without us, the team would be somewhat lacking. Not that I am arrogant about my skills, but I would say that together we are quite a formidable force. Mark had said that he'd never played with our team, so he'll give it a go. Mark and I rarely talk so it won't be the best replacing guy, but he's family so that's good enough.

We turn up at the place. The factory is quite small but the surrounding land is large. It processes raw stone that is mined elsewhere. It's a general factory owned by an overarching power that manages all the workers. My family is one of the more prominent groups that work here. The other prominent group, The Pera Family. We don't get to see our rivals before the match starts, but I can guarantee that a fair share would be from their family. We play quite rough, but hopefully we won't find ourselves injured by the end of the day. We enter the changing room and get into our kit. A nice red colour with black shorts and the red shirt. Our emblem is a red diamond with a whale on it. The lads are all our work friends. Our goal keeper is a tall guy, quite skinny, whilst our defending lot, there's four of them, are all generally built. One of them is very tall though. 6"3, or something near it. We call him the BFG - big friendly giant. He's a lad called Jeff. Sometimes he goes in the goals, so I don't know which he'll be today. I look around for Mark, but he's nowhere to be seen. He'd better hurry up because the practicing is about to start.

We all head out onto the pitch and we see that the gathering crowd is quite small, but that's alright. We're here for fun as much as we are here to win. The money is an enticing reward, though. $1000 can get somebody quite far, especially just do a little game like this. That's the reward for the final though, but this is just a little qualifier. We pass the ball around a couple of times between us all, and stretch our muscles. Warning up is essential. It's quite cold out, so the ground will be harder which means our falls will be bigger and more dangerous. Me and Alex take a few practice shots at the goal, with no keeper but still - it's practice.
The match is minutes from starting. Where is Mark?

We head to the middle of the pitch, Alex and I, because we're the strikers. Everyone has to be to their own side of the pitch except for us, as we start with the ball. We've stalled as long as we can, waited as long as possible, but still; nothing. We have to start, else the referee will foul us. Alex passes me the ball to start, and the game begins.

I take the ball backward, passing it to the left midfielder. There's no Mark, so we're a man down already. Stress is high, and the pressure to win is building despite the lack of real competition. I head forward like I should, finding a man to mark. Mark, it's sprinting through m head how we're missing him. The opposing side has a yellow kit, with blue bottoms. We're only about five minutes into the game, the ball has been passed to and from our defence and our midfield. Suddenly, the enemy intercepts. A lob pass is made, and it's in our box. What are we going to do without our central midfielder?

We're going to lose. The ball is slammed into the net.

They all start raving, and there's nothing we can do.

We have to make a counter attack. I'm not going to lose this game just because Mark hasn't turned up. We start with the ball because we were scored against. I pass to Alex opposite me and he sprints in. With a kick back, a back heel as well, the right wing has the ball and he runs down towards the opposition. He needs to cross in the ball but I lose sight of it as players start to block my view. A pass was made but I can't see who it is. Another, then another. Like lightning, the ball is sent into the net. It must have been Alex, that was some insane power behind that ball. I run towards whoever it is, celebrating like crazy as though we had won. He turns around and, it's Mark. "Holy shit! It's you!" I smile wide. If it were any other circumstance then I would have been angry, but he's made up for his penalties. "They held me up because nobody added me to the team list." He raises a brow at me, but I just chuckle as we get back begin the centre line. His place is behind Alex and I.

The game proceeds, nothing relatively glamorous happens in the time it takes us to waste even more of that time. It's a stretch, but Micky wanted us to wait it out and strike later on to secure the match. We've got to listen to him regardless. That's what being the captain means. Suddenly, one of our defenders comes forward. He's tall, and that when I notice it is Jeff, the big friendly giant. He comes so far forward that nobody expects it. He gets the ball with a slide tackle and somehow carries on. He slams a lobbing pass to Mark in the middle, who is now passing it forward to Alex. He can't keep control so he passes it sideways to me.

My heart is racing, my blood is pumping. Adrenaline, endorphins. My body is going crazy but I love it. This is why the game is so beautiful. The crowd is blaring in my ears, about two hundred people chanting our team forward. "Orca, Orca!" My parents are somewhere in that crowd. My other family. I bring my leg under the ball.

I shoot.

I SCORE.

Impossible.
Fantastic.

We've won.

My team runs towards me. Jeff is first, Alex and Mark next. A pile of us all cheering, celebrating. We've won, we're in the quarter finals. "Tyren has to get a tattoo!" Alex yells. "You bastard!" I tell back, laughing under the weight of the others. They leave one by one, each time reminding me how normality felt. "What're you getting, Tyren?" Jeff asks me. Jeff Brown, not a tattoo on his body. Does he really care? Probably. When people call him the big friendly giant they mean that he's a big lad, more or less perfect in terms of muscularity. He's got really short hair, nearly shaved but not quite. Shorter than mine. He looks like he could kill you, but if you heard him you'd think he was gentle, calm and smooth. He's really like that really. He's definitely more dedicated to his fitness than me, or even Mark. He's committed and for that I do envy him. He's a great friend though, we grew up together but didn't exactly talk much. Same classes, different friends. Now we're spot on with each other. He's better friends with Alex though. "I was thinking something on my arm." I tell him truthfully. I'd like a sleeve, really.

Amidst the celebration, there's booing coming from the other team. Typical, especially when their fans join in. They're probably saying how it was unfair that we bring in a new guy that wasn't on the team list.

I'm going to have to have words with the referee. I walk straight up to him with a curious look on my face. "What's your view on things?" I ask, since after all it is his view that is important. They call the referee the master of the game. "He's wearing your kit, passing your way, it makes sense to me." I give the referee a smile because I like the way he thinks. Now, the question is raised what we do next. "Drinks, or watch Tyren get tattooed for four hours?" One of the lads says. "Well it's not his first time so it won't be anything funny." Alex informs the group, though his tone suggests that it would be funny to have seen me in tickling pain.

We leave the pitch and get changed. The changing room atmosphere is so much more positive once we've got a win under our belt, as usual though. It is rare we actually lose, but on those occasions, we find ourselves put down in the dumps. Usually we need a good motivating leader to bring us back up, and Micky just can't do that unfortunately. When we're back into our casual clothes, me, Mark, Jeff and Alex all head out of the doors together, laughter in our guts because Mark had made a funny joke about girls. "And that's why they walk all crooked afterward." And we laugh some more. In the corridors, which are quite narrow but just enough for three people, we walk with Alex behind us other three. Somebody comes around the corner though, and it has me half smiling and half shaking, mentally at least. Marcel Pera. He was in the game, he scored the goal against us. Not only that but he's the rival. My eyes pin on him like knives. Jeff, who knows our situation, not liking he Pera family and all, just steps aside. He's like that because he'll just avoid danger or trouble even though he's big enough to deal with them himself. Marcel just walks on by, narrowly missing me and Mark.