Miss Incomplete | ✓

34 | He Loves Me Not

The soccer stadium shun brightly against the night sky, the white lights beating down on the bleachers and game as if the were the second source for the sun. The loud excitement and cheering continues to be thrive within the nature, and I walk up towards the bleacher.

Our section, the Panthers, was filled with the whole student body. My eyes search for a seat, and found that everyone was packed and deadly serious on the game, their eyes remained focus.

I turn, seeing the timer on the clock reading twenty minutes. My eyes found their way down the field, spotting our team instantly as the colour of dark blue jerseys shined bright against our rival's red.

I look back to find a seat, and spotted one near in the front portion of the bleachers, closer to the field. I rush to the seat, snagging it before another student came and took it away.

My eyes begin to focus on the game, noticing the jerseys better. They were short sleeves dark blue jerseys with yellow stripes on their sleeves, similar to the pattern of Adidas but instead of three white stripes, they had two. In the back, was a white outline of their names and numbers. I found Graham shortly in the far left, sweat clinging to his hair as they created patches on his forehead.

Graham, 12, was running with the ball in his grasp. His eyes trained on the white and black ball laid in front of him as he manages to slip from a couple of opposing players before going in the other team's goal; quickly adjusting himself for a split second before aiming for a score — resulting in a corner kick.

I look over to the scoreboard, seeing the white digit change from zero to one. The crowd behind me cheers wildly, screaming. I even heard someone saying how hot Graham looks at the moment. I almost rolled my eyes — they've never seen him sleeping with a spoon full of ice cream clinging on his lips.

Graham walks back to his team, which huddles together in a short distance from the bench. His expression drawn together his brows as he appears serious and stern, no other passing emotion crosses his features. Graham is always like this during games.

Graham animatedly begins speaking with the coach, and his team, before they spread out and begin walking back to the centre, another round being called in.

I spotted Julian shortly after, his figure appeared in the front portion of the field as he waited himself timidly across the other captain in front of him. He dressed relatively normal to the team, with the except of a pale yellow arm band across his left bicep, reading the word Captain.

The referee blew the whistle, and the game starts. Julian manages to snatch the ball from under the rival team's nose and the roar of the crowd emerged; Graham followed Julian shortly behind as a short of bodyguard and defence. I smiled, and cupped my mouth, "GO GRAHAM!" from the top of my lungs, hoping he heard.

Julian, 8, suddenly, stops and turns to the audience — our audience. His brows drawn together as he searches for something. Whatever it was, caused a strong enough distraction that caused the ball to be swept from under his feet by another player, 24.

The crowd sighs, sad and deflated as we suffer another lost in the ball. The same player, managed to make their way to our goal and scored a goal in our basket, gaining another point.

1-2.

The first half of the game ran smoothly — for the other team, Coyotes. Halftime came with the announcement of the buzzer and the team begin to gather back to their bench, taking a short fifteen minute break. Each of the players had a tired and exhausted appearance, some more than others. The coach walked over to them, and begin giving them a pep-talk, but from his tone, he was trying to bring the team up as much as he could without sounding too disappointed by the turn of events.