Pacific Bell High

> II <

The boy with the ice-blue eyes and dark hair pushed Justin back.

"Don't you dare touch my girl again, you hear me?" He seethed through clenched teeth.

He's not even worth your time, Justin. Don't say anything stupid. He reasoned with himself. He didn't want to have problems with somebody he'd recently just met.

But, all of those thoughts had cut off when the guy raised his hand up and shoved Justin's shoulder.

"Hello, new kid. I'm talking to you." He said, furrowing his eyebrows in question. "Don't place your hands on my girl."

"She didn't seem like she was your girl." Justin responded, still remembering how he bumped into -- Ciara, that was what he called her, after he came out of the principal's office.

The hand that shoved him back, gripped on his shoulder. The boy's face grew dark. "What did you say?"

Justin's hand reached up and clamped it on the guy's wrist. This guy wanted to be intimidating, but it wasn't working on Justin -- he had maturity, he wouldn't stoop down.

He pried the guy's hands off and pushed it off. He walked away without another word, in the opposite way that Ciara went, and could feel the daggers slowly entering the back of his head.

{•.•}{•.•}{•.•}

Justin didn't think he had to bump into him again.

Well, he didn't. Not until he jogged into his football tryouts, he didn't.

He could see black and gold with white uniforms running around the field. He was only dressed in his sweats and navy blue under armor. He was lucky that Mr. Dawson, the principal of Pacific Bell, had put in a word with Coach Evans to let Justin try out for the team.

"What position do you play, kid?" Was the first thing Coach Evans asked Justin when he neared the benches.

Coach Evans was tall, well built, had a shiny bald head that was beaded with sweat and hard green eyes. He sported a black windbreaker that, in small size, had the letters 'PB' sowed over the right side of his chest and the back it said 'Coach' in gold over his upper back. His black jersey shorts showed off his toned calves and his dirty white sneakers showed that he didn't play any games.

The whistle hung from the side of his thin lips and he clutched onto the wooden clipboard so hard that his knuckles were white.

"Quarterback, sir." Justin responded, as he kept eye contact. If there was anything he knew growing up, it was to play quarterback and to give adults respect.

Coach Evans nodded, then looked over to the football players, who took a water break. "We've got a quarterback already, kid." He told him, then nodded towards the boys. "Xavier Willis."

Justin followed his gaze and saw a boy with a curly dark blonde fohawk and the number 5 jersey nudge somebody. He was about to look away when he came in contact with the same blue eyes who glared at him earlier this morning.

Damn it, he thought as he turned back to Coach Evans, who eyed him down. He was sizing him up.

"But, here's the thing, kid." Coach Evans started, pushing out the whistle from his lips. "If there's anything I hate, it's favoritism. If you prove to me that you got what it takes to be a quarterback, then you can take Willis' spot."

Justin nodded at him, determination quickly etched into his features. "Yes coach."

"Remember, this is a tryout." Coach Evans reminded him, his voice growing hard. "If you can't deal with this, I'd advise you to pack your ass out of this team - cause I'm harder to the team players. Now, give me twenty laps."