Falling for the Goalie and Other Dangerous Sports

Chapter 9 - Derek

This chapter is going to be kinda short i think. maybe. idk. oh well, just enjoy it :)

(from Bri)

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I sat up in my desk chair. Why was I asleep at my desk? I peeled the sheet of notebook paper from my cheek and examined it. That's right, I was writing Dad's letter. Reading over it, I realized I must've fell asleep when I wrote my name. Last time I checked, my name wasn't Der. I quickly finished my name at the bottom and folded it up, putting it into an envelope. I'll let mom do the label stuff, because I haven't sent a letter since first grade. And that was to Santa Claus.

"What's that?" My mom asked, as I tried to slip my letter into her grocery list undetected. I didn't work out as planned.

"Er, a letter." I said. I felt like a nerd saying that I wrote a letter. A letter, for pete's sake.

"Oh, for who?"

"Dad."

"Okay, I'll drop that off with the bills when I'm on my way to work. I'm assuming you didn't put an address or stamp on it, so I'll do that too." She said, gathering up her purse and getting a stamp from the drawer. Mom knew me pretty well too.

"Where are you going today...?" I asked. Mom had two jobs: her main one, a chocolatier for Dove, doing fancy candy parties at women's houses, and waitressing at Bob Evans. She's a great dessert baker, just not when it comes to real food. Not like I have a problem with that, in fact I had a pretty good childhood, because she would always take me to her chocolate parties. Yes, my cheeks would hurt from all the pinching but the candy leveled it out. I'm surprised I'm not fat or anything. I guess that explains why Dad made me play soccer, baseball, and basketball since I was little.

"Bob Evans this morning, but there's a chocolate party for someone in Oxtown I have to set up this afternoon. So Max'll be taking you to practice, okay? Bye, honey." she kissed me on the head before I could protest.

"Bye, Mom." I groaned. I did not need head kisses anymore.

"MAX! BEHAVE!" I heard her say on her way out. I sighed. Max was in charge until practice. Just amazing.

I proceeded to get myself cereal and milk, picking up a Game Informer that was by the door. As I leafed through it, eating my cereal, the beast was finally awoken.

"Mornin' little...bro." Max said, yawning. "What time is it?"

"I dunno. Early, I guess." I looked outside. It was still light out, dew clinging to the blades of grass. I was up earlier than usual today.

"Oh, okay. What's for breakfast?" Max responded.

"Whatever you can get yourself. Which might be a glass of water, for all I know." I said, reading a review.

"I can make cereal!" He exclaimed.

"I have my doubts." I replied, looking up at him. He looked completely flustered, and very amusing for me. Eventually, after a stare down I won, he got his cereal and sat down beside me. We finished our breakfast in silence.

"Hey, do you want to go out and practice, Derek?" He asked me. I just gaped at him. Since when was he nice to me?

"I'm not always a self centered person, you know." he said, looking at me.

"Wait, what?"

"You said since when am I nice to you."

"Oh." I guess I said the last part out loud. But this was astonishing. My brother was actually going to help me. Help help me. Not mock. "Okay. Lemme get my stuff." I said, setting my dish in the sink and going up the stairs, two at a time. I was excited now, I was going to advice from the person who invented the Ashcrest goalie, Max. I put on the usual ensemble - t shirt and shorts - and grabbed my gloves I had set on a closet shelf.

When I came down, Max was already outside, juggling a soccer ball.

"Took you long enough, slow poke." I walked outside to meet him when he suddenly kicked the ball my way. It couldn't deflect it in time, so it hit me hard in stomach.

"Oof, what was that for?" I asked, doubled over.

"Gotta be on your toes." Max replied, smirking at me. "Now pick up the ball. You want to get better, you have to practice." He said. I angrily picked up the ball and threw it as hard as I could at him. He caught it just before it could hit him in the face. I didn't even see his hands go up. "Tsk, tsk, trying to take out this beautiful face." He said. I glared again.

He started juggling again, doing all these fancy moves. Max was obvioulsy showing off. Before I knew it, he had kicked it by my head. I tried to catch it, but the ball traveled too far past me. I watched as it landed in the neighbor's yard.

"Nice one, Max." I said. The Allen's had a vicious little dog that attacked me last time I kicked a ball over there. I was making Max get this one.

"Fine, fine I'll grab it."

"Watch out for the dog!" I called as he pushed through the bushes.

"What, this little puppy?" I heard him say.

I walked over and cautiously peeked at what my brother was talking about. I found him scratching the demon dog's belly, ball in hand. "This little fella ain't going to hurt anyone, is he?" Max said, continuing to pet the dog. He spotted me and started to growl. I immediatly pulled my head from the bushes, backing up a few yards and picking the leaves from my hair.

"Haha, he really doesn't like you." Max said as he came back through the wall of green, laughing. You should of seen your face..."

"That dog is vicious, I'm telling you." I interrupted.

"Whatever. But I think I'm going to take you to the park instead, there's not enough room here." He headed back inside the house to get his keys. I was now dumbfounded. This was really weird, but I was going to gladly accept the fact that my brother was helping me.

I hopped in the passenger seat and Max pulled out onto the road, heading towards the park. In a few short minutes, we arrived at Saranack Park. When I was little, the kids on playground would say that it was built on top of an Indian tribe war site and there were dead bodies everywhere. I never believed any of it, mainly because I didn't want to. Imagine if that were true...I'd never step foot in the park again, the thought of dead bodies and ghosts creeped me out. I could watch the goriest movie in the world and be glued to the screen, but turn on Paranormal Activity in the middle of the day and I'll stay outside for two hours.

"Alrighty, let's go." Max said, grabbing the soccer ball and cooler from the trunk. He tossed the ball on ground and started dribbling towards the field. I walked up behind him as quietly as possible and kicked the ball from his feet. I laughed as I stole it and jogged to the net.

"Very funny. Now give it, you need some one-on-one work," he said. I reluctantly passed the ball to him, putting on my gloves again. "Ready?" Max asked. I got ready to recieve the ball.

"Ready."

He started dribbling, acting as if he was faking out defenders. When he was in a too-close shooting range, I rushed him. I slid sideways so my body was paralell to the ground, hands out to snatch the ball from his feet. He kicked it sharply to his left and scored.

"Too early, little bro. Gotta time it right or you're screwed. Here, switch positions." Max passed the soccer ball out to me.

"But I want to get better in the box!" I whined. I could deflect the next shot, I know I could...

"Everyone has to know all the positions, Derek. Including you."

"I know that -"

"Then show me." I stared at him. Show him? Oh, I was going to make him eat his words.

"Fine. You want the gloves?" I said, undoing the velcro.

"Nah, once you're as good as me you don't need 'em." He gave me a smirk.

"Whatever." I muttered, dribbling out of the 18 yard line. I turned around to face Max. It was as if my life depending on getting this goal.

I hated it when Max is all arrogant. Couldn't he just help for once? It was as if he'd never heard of the word. "Help? What's help?" I could hear him say. Determined, I started to dribble towards the goal.

I was in a good shooting range and winding up to deliver the kick. I saw the surprise in Max's face, he probably didn't expect me to be able to shoot a semi-far shot, but he still rushed towards me. I gave my shot. I kicked towards the left, a natural thing for right footers, and watched as Max missed the ball by a hair. It bounced off the side of post, bouncing into the goal.

"HA! WHAT NOW!?" I yelled, running past him with my arms out, doing the airplane. "And the crowd goes wild for the game winning goal!" I continued to yell until Max grabbed the back of my shirt when I was running past him.

"When did you get good at shots?" He asked. "I never let a goal in. Period. What did you do?" I was too busy laughing at him.

"Can't take the fact I was able to score on you?" I taunted.

"Fluke. Had to of been." Max muttered as he finally let go of my shirt, walking to the goal. "Again. Go." he demanded, tossing the ball out again.

"Alright, but you might want to get your tissues out!" I said. Glancing at him, my laughter faded. He didn't crack a smile, didn't tease back, nothing, nada, zip. It was unsettling.

Snapping back into reality, I began dribbling again. I was in my newfound range, and Max was already charging. I needed a change up. I made a split decision to shoot to the right corner, but my feet were already set up for left. The result was watching the ball soar just outside the goal.

"How do you keep getting past me?" Max said. I was about to answer when he spoke again. "You're an eighth grader who doesn't even play forward!"

"Max, you're not acting like yourself." I said. He was looking lethal.

"It can't be me, I am not this bad to let you score." He shot me his signature smirk.

I looked at him. That hurt.

"What's wrong with you? That wasn't funny!" I said. Max was no longer teasing. He was insulting.

Max looked down at me. "It's the truth."

I took a wild swing at him, but he grabbed my arm before I could make contact with his head. How dare he say something so mean and uncalled for. What was wrong with him? I was practically spitting fire.

It took Max a moment to realize my obvious rage. He must've caught up on his words, because he dropped my arm. "Uh, sorry...I didn't...it was...I'm just getting some water."

He abruptly turned and walked towards the cooler. This was very unlike him. There was something wrong, and I didn't know what it was. Max would never stoop that low.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Max? I know you wouldn't usually stoop so low as take that low of a blow. That's just...I'm just ...you..." I tried to find the words to explain the mixed feeling of disapointment and anger.

"I need to tell you something, Derek." Max interrupted. I stopped my subconcious pacing and looked at him. He sighed and sat down under a nearby tree. I waited for him to go on.

"The college wants me to play. Play soccer. Play goalie."

"Wait, that's great....right?" I said. Being offered a spot on a college team was huge, right?

"Yes and no."

"When did they ask?"

"A few months into the school year..."

"What? Are you kidding me, they've asked you for that long?" I responded. Why hadn't he taken the position? My anger slowly dissolved into confusion.

"Yeah. They've even invited me to practices and things." Before I could express my disbelief even futher, he continued. "But the current goalie flagged me down. Big, scary junior. He's been there for a long time, and wants to keep his position. I know I'm better than him, the coaches do too from scouting, but he threatened me. Threatened horrible things. He said if I went to any one practice, he'd...I don't want to tell you the things he said. They were just horrifying..." He drifted off, eyes distant, but snapped back and continued. "But I ignored the letters and calls. I kept at my architecture stuidies, keeping my distance from the soccer field. Before, I could've joined a game at the recreation center. But there was no way I was being seen within a 5 mile radius of a soccer ball."

"Why didn't you tell Mom, or Dad, or a professor or the coach or...anyone?"

"Because your brother has a big head, little bro. He thought it would blow over, and everything would be fine because Max is all grown up and doesn't need help. Things didn't work out that way. I still got threatening texts and emails; I don't even know how he got my number or anything. I missed the field. My girlfriend -"

"You have a girlfriend!?" I interrupted. He went on as if I never said said anything.

"- Went through my phone and found a text I forgot to delete. Of course, she freaked out and wrote a letter to the coach and dean. I told her I could handle it, but I'm secretly glad she did. The player was expelled for the threats. And now, the college really wants me to play, but I haven't touched a soccer ball since I've come home. I'm not as good as I was, and now I'm thinking the team isn't going to want me anymore. That's why I was so mad at you for scoring on me." Max finally finished with a heavy sigh. I was so overwhelmed with all this new information, I had to sit down. There were so many questions to ask, and I didn't know where to begin.

"So, the moral of the story is to...um..."

"Swallow your pride, maybe?" I finished for him. Max was definitely a numbers person.

"Precisely. And again, sorry for snapping at you." He ruffled my hair.

"That's alright, I guess you've had a lot of stress on you...but you have to take the spot, I hope you know." I said, patting down my unruly hair.

"I plan on taking the position, don't worry about that. I just need to get back into the swing of things."

"And you do know Mom and Dad will have to hear about this." I felt like a parent talking to a disobediant child.

Max sighed. "I know. And I plan on telling them at the right time...which may not be soon..."

"Max!"

"I'll tell Mom and Dad about Miss Maddy..." He taunted. He had me there.

"Whatever. What about your girlfriend?"

"I'll explain that later, little bro. Right now, we have unfinished business." Max got up and jogged to the net, fishing out the soccer ball. I followed him, going back out to the 18. He tossed the ball out, and I started to dribble immediately. I got in a few more shots, but things were becoming harder. It was as if Max grew another pair of arms; he always had a hand on the ball. When I was finally nearing exhaustion, he called it quits and collected everything to put in the trunk. We walked back to his car.

"What time is it?" I asked. I still had practice later today.

"Looks like one o'clock." he responded as the car started up and the clock turned on.

"Oh, wow. There's still 5 hours until we have to leave for practice."

"Yup. So now I can get started on packing up my things."

"Why?"

"I'm leaving for college again tomorrow, remember?" he said. My face fell.

"Oh, right..."

"You'll be seeing me on TV at home, though." Max added, going to mess up my hair again. I grabbed his arm before he could.

"Not again, dude." He laughed. We drove the rest of the way home in a comforting silence and pulled into the driveway. Stepping into the house, I spoke up. "And you still need to explain your 'girlfriend'."

"I will as we clean up the kitchen...and the living room...and the bathroom..." Max said as he read the note Mom had left on her quick stop home to change for the chocolate party. It was in an angry sprawl, emphasizing her worry of where we were, and the punishments of not telling her we were at the park which she figured out with the missing soccer ball. "Let's just relax for now, then we can get cracking on this list."

I was about to plop down on the couch when Max stopped me. "And you are not touching anything until you change." I took a glance at my clothes. The were splattered with mud and had few grass stains here and there.

"What about you? You're caked in mud too!" I reasoned. He was worse than I was, his shirt was more mud brown than blue.

"Touche." I chuckled as we went our seperate ways to our rooms. Changing out of my dirty clothes, I realized how much I meant to Max. He went through all of that and told me first. He helped me with my soccer skills and my girl problems. He's always been there.

I came to a conclusion I shoud've seen years ago. Max was absolutely and undoubtedly the best brother in the world.