In Real Life ✓

9. The Screaming Goat

Gilbert's little prank turned into something much, much bigger.

If there was no point in winning the school board's stupid games, we might as well mess up every single game simply for the sake of being annoying little pests, right? One look at each other and we knew what to do. We didn't even try scoring any points. We were just fucking around. We broke all the rules on purpose and we did everything in our power to make the game as hard as possible for our opponents.

But they didn't think it was funny anymore.

"Eve, stop trying to trip me! I'm on your team!" Leslie yelled when I hooked my foot behind her ankle. Not even my friends were safe from my wrath.

"What are you talking about?! I didn't do shit!"

Referee kid blew his whistle again and I blew a stray hair out of my face in annoyance, to which Gilbert only snickered to himself and ran ahead to trip someone else. The whistle went off again and again and again, but we kept going.

Until we were put on the side-lines.

I smirked at the players on the field, running back and forth, trying to salvage the game we'd successfully ruined, and Gilbert leaned close to whisper, "Let's steal his whistle."

"Good luck," I said with a snort, looking at the way the whistle dangled from the boy's neck. Gilbert would never be able to get it if he kept it around like that.

"Aren't you gonna help me?" he asked.

"No."

"Lame."

A few minutes later, Gilbert was standing right behind the boy, patiently waiting for an opportunity. He crossed his arms as he watched the back of his head, which was going left and right as he followed the ball on the field like a cat. Gilbert glanced at me with an impatient grimace and I stuck my tongue out at him, but he actually managed to snatch the whistle when the boy took it off, and he put it around his own neck with a proud grin. I face-palmed when he whipped the whistle around his neck, making it swing around wildly. But his victory was short-lived, because he blew on it and blew his cover. I'd be hearing that damn whistle in my dreams.

The boy instantly came running, screaming, "Give me that!"

But then Gilbert tossed it at me.

Fuck.

I ran off, but referee kid whined so much his voice actually started sounding hoarse from screaming, so I eventually gave up and threw it in his face. To my surprise, he didn't complain as he rubbed his nose and just thanked me for returning it.

"You have an unhealthy obsession with that whistle, kid."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure."

Gilbert appeared behind me and whispered, "Weak."

I wheeled around, arms crossed, and glared at him. "Shut up. This was your joke. I shouldn't even have caught the stupid whistle."

I shouldn't have, but it was just too easy to go along with it—maybe even kind of addictive. He wasn't afraid to fuck with people and I liked that. I tried so hard to keep myself from smiling. I tried so hard. But then he smiled and I gave in.

"Get a room," said referee kid.

And I wasn't even walking, but I tripped over my own feet.

When Tamara, Leslie and I were all huddled up in our tent at the end of the day, they were grinning at me like they'd won the lottery, and I knew exactly why they looked like that. They'd been staring at me and Gilbert messing around all day.