Confessions of a Teenage Caffeine Addict

30 // Gone

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Shoutout to this really awesome user, Bluecaramal, who made me a trailer for my book, which is absolutely amazing because no one has ever done that before. It's incredible. She rocks.

Also, on another note, this chapter may seem a little confusing since it's a flashback within a flashback, but bear with me. So the "present" timeline is February. However, this chapter centres around Jake having a flashback to August, 6 months earlier (from February). Within this flashback, Jake is having another flashback to March (which is 11 months earlier from February) He's remembering bits and pieces from State. Good luck and happy reads.

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There are far better things ahead than we leave behind.

—C.S. Lewis

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JAKE

AUGUST // 6 MONTHS EARLIER

Grass was probably my favorite thing, next to ice, of course. And with grass comes dirt, which I currently had a mouthful of—no thanks to Georgie O'Sullivan—who was just as dirty in soccer as he was in hockey. And I mean that in the worst way possible. He was even worse in scrimmages, because, honestly, what's a ref gonna do in a game that's technically not even league official?

"All day, Roswell," Georgie shot me a smirk before running off. It was way too early in the day for Georgie to be this snarky. A few seconds later, Calum's hand appeared in front of my face, and I grabbed it, letting him pull me up. I tucked my shirt back in, readjusted my shin guards, and spit the clump of dirt, grass, and arrogance out of my mouth.

"You kiss Jules with those lips?" Calum laughed.

"And Emma." I gave him a shove before finding a mark, because Mansfield had a throw-in.

The guy who took the throw-in looked like he was about 14 years old and had never even seen a soccer ball before, let alone touched one. As soon as the ball left his hands, I made a snap judgement call and ditched the guy I was supposed to be marking for a nice patch of open space. I figured the guy would panic since no one on his team was open and just throw the ball somewhere where there were no players. I was right and got to the "no player" area—AKA grass—and had just enough time to control the ball before sending it down the line to Derek, who was making a break towards the corner.

"Got time!" I heard Ryder shout from the middle of the field, a few yards outside the 18, meaning that Derek had about three or four seconds before two Mansfield defenders closed in on him.

"See Ry!" I called out to Derek.

"Switch, Leight! Switch!" Ryder's voice mingled in with mine.

Derek looked across the field to where Ryder was wide open. The guy who was supposed to be stuck to him like glue was off picking dandelions or something. Derek took two more steps: one to plant his foot, and one to chip the ball. Ryder pulled the ball out of the air with his right foot and gave it a hard kick over towards Calum. A Mansfield player came up behind him and stuck his foot out just as Calum was making a break for the ball. He saw the defender's foot, but didn't see the elbow to the back. Just the way he landed made me cringe, regardless of the scream that came out of his mouth as the player jammed the heal of his of his cleat down onto Calum's wrist. Then, to really sell it, he threw himself on the ground and grabbed his ankle. Mansy. Derek had his arm wrapped around the guy's neck seconds later.