•strictly platonic• boy x boy •

•emily oneshot•

Emily Scott POV

"No! Don't make me go to soccer practice! Anything but soccer practice! I'll literally wash the dishes for a whole week rather than going to soccer practice," I begged. I was ready to bust the waterworks if this didn't work.

My mom stopped pulling at my braids for a brief moment. "Goodness, gracious young lady. You don't want to go to soccer practice that badly, huh?" She knew exactly how much I hated to wash the dishes in the first place.

I shook my head fervently (I had to ask Emmie how to spell this word). "Pretty please with a cherry on top."

My mother kneeled next to me and held my shoulders firmly. "Is someone bullying you? Is there a manager I need to talk to? I'll talk to the coach and resolve this issue. You shouldn't be pleading with your whole life to not go to a simple soccer practice. I swear I will get to the bottom of this, sweetie. So just tell me right now what is going on right now and everything will be fine." She smiled and patted my head.

Wait, that's not how this was supposed to go. "I don't like sports, simple as that. Are you really surprised, Mom? Us Gen Z kids hate going outside. All we wanna do is play on our phones."

My mom raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Your acts of deception won't fool me, sweetie. I'm actually the CEO of the company." She patted my cheek.

I was speechless for a second. Which was unlike me, I know. Did she just reference a- you know what, nevermind. "But Mom~"

She stood up and calmly placed my soccer bag in front of me. "We are going to practice. I paid a lot of money for your soccer gear. If you refuse this, no more dolls for you. I will take away all your electronic devices and force you to watch as I embarrass you next time I visit your school." Oh the horror. "Now fetch your cleats and socks in less than five minutes or else." I shivered at her passive-aggressive smile and slowly backed out of the kitchen.

"Yes, ma'am."

Once I had grabbed everything and changed into them, I ran downstairs to walk into the kitchen to see my mom next to a ready snack bag and water bottle on the island counter. "Nice hustle, Emily. Now if only you tried that hard in soccer. I'm watching you, honey."

I sighed dramatically. "Geez, Mom. I'm going, what else more do you want from me?"

"Effort, sweetie. Now please take your stuff and hop into your car seat."

"Okay," I said defeatedly.

During the car ride, she put on Kidz-Bop while turning up the volume and I thought I was gonna throw up. I gagged. "What's wrong?" She asked. Now I wish I had brought my pink iridescent headphones.

"Oh my gosh, Mom, really? This awful music. Please shut it off. I think my ears might bleed."

Instead of responding to my request, she had the audacity to sing along with it off-key, as if the kids weren't bad enough singers. "I feel something so right, by doing the right thing~"

I flipped out. "Oh come on! That's a dumb censor. Why would they change 'wrong thing' to 'right thing.' That makes literally no sense. Kidz-Bop really knows how to ruin songs at max capacity."

She finally turned off the radio and I sighed in relief. "Next time you refuse to go to soccer, this will happen."

"You're like a soccer mom, but without the van."

Mom laughed as she reached into the glovebox compartment for her one of many dozen sunglasses. She turned to me and asked which pair. Holding up one blue pair and one violet pair, I could barely tell the difference. Why she would waste money on two of the same product, I would never know.