Decisions Ch. 02

Disclaimer: All characters are over 18.

Chapter 1:

"Pro Right, 513 Fullback Flare, Pro Right, 513 Fullback Flare. On one, on one. Ready... break!" I said into everybody's eyes, the team clapping in unison as we broke our huddle and hustled to our positions. I fitted my mouthguard into my mouth, biting into it and getting set directly behind the center. I blinked the sweat out of my eyes, turning my head to look at my receivers one last time before putting my hands out, satisfied that everybody was where they were supposed to be. "Down.... Reeeeeeeeaaaaaaaddddy..... Set 180..... Hutty-hut!" I screamed.

The ball flew into my hands, the sound of dull thuds, grunts, snarls, and the odd expletive of the linemen crashing into each other resounding all around me. Good thing they were all either orcs, ogres, or werebears, or else i'd be up a creek. I dropped back, turning my head to the left of my formation looking for my reciever. Valerian Hightower the Elf, one of my two, was having trouble getting off of the line of scrimmage, being pressed by a werewolf cornerback. I shifted my eyes to the middle of the formation, eyeing for my tight end, DeAndre Fowler. He wasn't hard to miss, being a Werebear and almost as tall as Ricky. I saw him in an instant with an arm raised as he streaked past the linebacker that was covering him.

I braced my body, bringing my arm back to throw, before pumping forward and lobbing the ball with an intense velocity. The ball sailed through the air, spiraling as it achieved its maximum altitude and began it's descent back to the Earth towards Fowler's outstretched hands, where it promptly whizzed through his hands, hitting him in the pads, bouncing off and landing on the grass. I swore, hitting the sides of my helmet in frustration. "Damnit, DeAndre." I mumbled to myself.

"Goddamnit! Catch the freakin' ball, Fowler! Ortega! ORTEGA! Get over here! Get in at Tight End. Fowler, bump out." Coach Freddy screamed. "Si, senor." Ricky replied quietly in a chippy Mexican accent as he hustled over next to me. I snorted, trying not to laugh too loud at his antics. I didn't want to get coach any more mad. Even though he was normally mild-mannered, he looked like he wanted to rip someone's head off at the current moment.

"If you get that open in midfield, DeAndre, you better be ready to snag it in." He yelled, storming over to the formation, his vein on his bald head protruding furiously. He pointed furiously at DeAndre and then the rest of us. "Do I need to remind you guys that we go up against Jefferson High School in ten days!? Ten damn days! That's all we have! You guys need to quit being so sluggish and focus! Jesus!"

No one thought it'd be a smart idea to remind him that this was only the third day of practice. Belcourt High School had scrambled to get a new coach in time so we wouldn't forfeit the season. It just so happened that a certain football coach who's been coaching me for three years decided it was time to resign and seek another job elsewhere at a higher paying establishment. Either way, that was no excuse. Almost everyone here had played football one way or another at another school before being forced to transfer by law.

"Goddamnit!" He said once more to himself. "McCrae, get me my clipboard!" A sophomore receiver, probably a leprechaun if his close cropped red hair and four leaf clover sticker on his helmet said anything, darted off. "Yes, coach!" He said quickly, over his shoulder, running to the spot where Coach Freddy threw his clipboard down at the ground in frustration. He picked it up, running it back to the formation and handed it off to him.

Coach Freddy held up the clipboard. "Everybody huddle around." We had around thirty people on the roster who had signed up for football in the short amount of time, so we were reasonably spaced out. We huddled closer, staring at the clipboard. "Look, O-Line, you guys did good, you just need to fire off on the ball harder. No other complaints from me. Who was my Left Receiver? Hightower? Look man, you gotta' shed that press quicker. Just rip through the guy, don't swim over him! Fowler, not only did you drop the ball, you also ran the wrong route. You were supposed to run a back side post, not a speed out. Right reciever, same to you. Shed that press quicker. Everybody got that?"

"Yes, coach!" The team murmured in a chorus. Coach Freddy turned to Coach Eric. "Eric, anything you got defensively?" We all turned to Coach Eric who rubbed his beard, thinking. Coach Eric was the another one of the coaches of the Belcourt Minotaurs Football Team. He lost his job as part of the Definition of the Treatment of Other Species Act, being half Satyr. "Yeah... uh..." He bleated. "Defense, huddle up on the other side of the line of scrimmage. I'll talk to you guys there."

Half of the huddle broke away, leaving just the offensive side standing around. "Well?" Coach Freddy asked. "You all know what you're supposed to do. Am I supposed to hold your hand? Go freakin' huddle." The center immediately raised his hand. "Huddle, huddle, huddle!" He cried out as the team surrounded him, with the linemen in front and backs/receivers lining up behind them. I stepped towards coach. He was short and portly compared to my tall and langley height, so I had to bend down quite a bit to talk to him.

"That was a good ball, Chris. Your passing skills have improved over the Summer." He murmured.

"Thanks, coach." I said surprised. It was a rare occasion to hear him compliment anybody, so whenever he did, I took it as if it were a nugget of gold.

Coach Freddy sucked on the bottom of his lip, staring at the defensive huddle through his Oakley sunglasses. With a loud clap and a cry of "Smash!", they broke their huddle, moving into their formation. "Alright, let's take a look... they're in Cover Two... so... let's go..." He rubbed at his stubble, thinking. "Let's go with... Pistol Left...17 Power Read" I nodded, hurrying back to the formation, who were looking at me expectantly.

I took out my mouthguard so I could speak clearly. "Pistol Left, 17 Power Read." I repeated to the formation. "On one, on one. Ready... break!" Hearing the sound of everyone yelling "Break!" at the same time and clapping was satisfying. I lined up three yards behind my center, turning around to make sure my halfback was lined up correctly behind me and to tell him what to do. He never played a down of football before in his entire life, having only watched a few games here and there on ESPN. I knew I was doing him no good telling him what to do before every play. I was wasting valuable time and it certainly wasn't encouraging him to study anytime soon... but I just couldn't throw him under the bus and make him look stupid by not knowing what to do.

"It's a run, Viktor. Make sure you don't snatch the ball away from me until I hand it off to you. Once you get it, just keep on running straight and through. Don't stop until the whistle." I said. Slightly fearful crystal blue eyes flitted up to me, before he nodded and squatted down, biting down on his oversized mouthguard (which accommodated his oversized fangs). I guiltily slipped the mouthguard into my mouth, biting down on the gel custom molded to my teeth. The defense looked primed to stop the run. I was already resigned to the fact that he was probably going to get the snot smacked out of him.

"You'll be fine." I mumbled, not exactly sure to whom.

I examined my offensive formation one more time, making sure everyone was set before I held my hands out to receive the snap. "Down.... Reeeeeeeeaaaaaaaddddy..... Set 180..... Hut-hut!" I screamed. The ball came flying into my hands where I promptly secured it, looking for my read keys. Sure enough, the offensive line was having trouble opening up a huge hole, but there was still a hole nonetheless wide enough for a skinny Viktor to squeeze through. I turned around, holding out the ball for him. He came running up at full speed, grabbing hold of the ball and tucking it securely into his chest.

He burst into the hole with a surprising amount of force, smashing through like a truck. I stepped away from the formation, watching the play develop. Viktor held the ball in tight as he introduced himself to our team's defensive tackle, bouncing off of him and flowing to the right side of the formation as he struggled to stay on his feet. By either a stroke of luck or hidden amounts of tremendous skill, he somehow stumbled forward, covering the ball up with two hands as he split between the right guard's and tight end's blocks.

My mouthguard slipped out of my mouth as my jaw dropped open when Viktor finally stopped stumbling and began flat-out running, somehow managing to stay up as the defense struggled to bring down the 5'7'', 120 pound Junior knock-off version of Marshawn Lynch. I soon began hurrying to catch up to him, moving myself into optimal position to block for him. I slowed back down to a walking pace when I realized it wasn't needed. As Viktor rapidly began to approach the end zone, Nate Redmond, our safety, dove to tackle him. He got his hands around him but slid off, unable to wrap and squeeze.

Home free, Viktor burst into the endzone, spiking the ball and screaming in exuberance as the rest of our offense caught up to him, yelling and slapping him on the head the way testosterone-filled athletes do when one of their own accomplishes an extraordinary feat. I was a good thirty yards away from the endzone when I turned around to look at Coach Freddy, who was watching with a confused expression morphed onto his face.

"Who was that? Was that Sokolov?" He asked. I simply smiled to myself and slipped in my mouthguard. It wasn't often that you found Coach Freddy dumbfounded.

The team was reinvigorated after Viktor broke away for his 50+ yard scamper to the end zone and practice ran so much smoother because of it. It wasn't until the afternoon heat that was beating down on us in the late afternoon began fading away and the evening chill came on did we really turn the intensity down a notch and finish up what was a three hour long practice. Coach Freddy blew his whistle three times.

"Come on, ya'll. Take a knee!" He said, waving everybody over from their individual offensive groups. I looked over before turning back to face the Tight End I was working with. "One more rep." I said, as I positioned the ball in front of me. "Set, go!" I said, dropping back three steps. I brought my arm back and swung it forward, throwing the ball in a spiral towards the sprinting werewolf tight end. The ball sailed into his outstretched hands as he caught it, tucking it away, and turning upfield.

I smiled in satisfaction. "Nice catch, Fowler!" I called out. I unstrapped my helmet, taking it off as I turned around to jog towards the rest of the team who were taking a knee around Coach Freddy. I ran a hand through my short brown hair, wiping away the streaks of sweat that were running down my forehead.

I took a knee next to Viktor who had an open spot next to him. Fowler came up behind us, clapping my lightly on the shoulder. "Good ball, Chris." He said. I simply nodded my head as I looked up at Coach Freddy. He took off his hat, wiping at his bald head before talking.

"Overall guys, good practice. A little rough at the beginning but everything worked out in the end. Great job. Alright.." He looked at his clipboard. "I'm sure you guys already know this, but in ten days, Jefferson High School comes here. I'm not sure about you, but this game will make or break this school. This game will be watched closely by everybody, and I mean everybody. However, the way I see it, we're not where we need to be to smack the shit out of them, but we're close. We're definitely close. You guys keep coming here, you keep working at it, you keep staying on that grind, you'll win some games this year."

He flipped through his clipboard again. "Oh, right. School work. Guys..." He looked around at each of us, man to another man. "I know you guys are out here to play ball, but school starts at the end of this weekend and school always comes first. Make sure you guys are diligent, respect your teachers, yada, yada, yada. You know how it all goes. That's all I got for you guys. Oh! One more thing."

He set his clipboard down by his side. "Guys, it's only been a couple of days, but Principal Finch already got a couple of complaints from jumpy people who saw some big animals prowling around at night. Now, i'm not accusing you weres here on the team and I know you guys gotta' let the animal out every now and then, but i'd also rather not you guys get shot by animal control before the season starts. Alright, that's about it. Let's get a break and let's get out of here."

Everyone stood up, hollering, as they put their fists in the center of the circle. I leaned forward, raising my fist. "Minotaurs on me, Minotaurs on three. One, two, three!"

"Minotaurs!" Everyone shouted.

Chapter 2:

I drove the car up the familiar driveway, stopping at the garage door and placing it in park. I pulled the handbrake, opening the door. "Thanks for giving me a ride home, Chris." Viktor said, as he climbed out of the passenger seat. "No problemo, Vik." I replied, smiling at him. He was such a good kid. Nice, friendly, polite... did I mention nice? It's a mystery how he never had a girlfriend before. I never ever wanted him to change.

He slung his bag over his shoulder as I walked with him up to the front door. The sun was just beginning to set and the skies were becoming dark. As we stopped in front of the door, he fumbled with the doormat, retrieving the key that was hidden underneath. He slid the key into the lock, turning it and opening the front door.

I walked with Viktor inside, enjoying the familiarity of the house as Viktor cupped his hands around his mouth. "Mama, i'm home!" He called out. "Go take a shower and wash up for dinner!" Yulia called back. Viktor turned to look at me, bumping me with his shoulder as he slid his bag off his shoulder, setting it to the side of the door. "You staying for dinner?" He asked. By the insistence of the matriarch of the Sokolov household, a spot was always open for me at the dinner table, but this time, I had to decline. I had already promised my parents i'd be home for dinner. "Nah. Gotta' head home tonight. Wish I could stay though. Maybe next time?"

He nodded energetically. "For sure! Will you be here when I get back?" I nodded. "Yeah man, go take as long as you need to. When you get upstairs, can you tell Stasi that i'm here?" I replied as Viktor began walking upstairs. "Yeah, I got you." He said as his back retreated away from me to the second floor. "Anna, Chris is here!" He called out.

"Coming!" A muffled voice came from her room.

I wasn't left alone in the hall for long. Yulia poked her head from the study, smiling at me in that motherly way of hers. "I knew I heard the voice of my second son." She said. The rest of her body followed as she left the study, heading towards me, and wrapping me in a hug. She let go, looking at Victor's retreating back up the stairs, before turning back to me. "How was practice, Christopher?"

My smile widened at the thought of Vik's prowess at running the ball. "Oh, it was great! Viktor did really well. I wouldn't be surprised if he was given the starting job!" I said. Yulia's chest puffed up in pride at the prospect of her son being on the starting team. "That's excellent news, Kristopher." She gushed, relieved. "Me and Anton were always wondering if he'd be more of an athlete. Less of those video games and being cooped up in his room by himself. It's good to see that he is, yes. "

"Well, he certainly has the potential to be a great athlete. What were you doing in the study?" I asked. Yulia waved off my question. "Oh, you know how my dear husband gets when he works by himself on his Coven projects. Always grumbling, irritable, and self-doubting. Two heads are always better than one, even though one of those heads majored in political science." She wagged her finger at me. "While we're on the subject, have you found a major yet? The last time I asked, you didn't have one."

"I think I have." I said, with an ounce of confidence. A couple months back, i'd wake up interested in a different job. Maybe one day i'd want to be a pilot, the next: a doctor, a week later: a professional football player. But after a lot of soul searching and the gentle prodding of one loving Stasi, I think I may have found my calling. "I want to major in criminal justice and maybe become a federal agent or a police officer after college."

Her eyes widened. "That's a dangerous line you're walking, Christopher." I shrugged sheepishly. "What can I say?" I said. "I don't think i'd be able to sit behind a desk for the rest of my job. I want to do some good in the world."

She nodded at that last bit. "Always a good boy." She said, pinching my cheeks. "You'll go far in life that's for sure." Even though I knew her words were genuine, I couldn't help but feel like they had a hollow ring to it, as if her mind wasn't completely into her conversation with me. Her eyes flitted up to the stairs, still seeing that Stasi was still in her room getting ready. She leaned in to me, her voice adopting a quiet tone. "Christopher, is something wrong with Anastasia?" She asked, hastily.

My eyes widened open in alarm. "No!" I said, a bit too loudly. My tone surprised her as much as it surprised me. "No." I repeated, much quieter. "Is something wrong with Stasi?" I asked, fearfully.

Yulia shook her head. "No... no. She just... ah... ever since the Pacific Mall, she hasn't eaten much, and you know how she is. She likes food. I mean a lot. Big appetite. But lately she's been poking and prodding at her food and synth packs. It is almost as if she doesn't like her food anymore. Only thing she ate was when I cooked her favorite Zharkoye."

I was surprised and alarmed at all of this. Sure, Stasi was a bit of a picky eater when it came to food, but not that much to where she'd never eat. She'd actually eat whatever was put in front of her by her mom, me, or my mom. The image painted in my head of Stasi miserably picking at her food was gut wrenching.

"I'll try out and find out if anything's wrong." I said.

"Good. Spasibo. Always a good boy." She repeated, pinching my cheek lightly once more. It must've looked comical as she did it, reaching all the way up to my six foot tall form.

I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and my ears perked up. I've been here so often that I could tell who was who just by the sound of their footsteps on the stairs. Elena's was a loud boom-boom-boom of energy as she bounded down the steps. Viktor's was timid and quiet, almost as if he was afraid to wake up the wooden floorboards. Stasi's was... well... it was more a gentle padding, almost as if she was floating on a cloud.

Who am I kidding. I knew it was Stasi because 1) Anton was in the study so there was no way he could be upstairs (unless vampires secretly have teleportation powers or there's a secret elevator in the study) 2) Yulia was right here with me. 3) Viktor went to go take a shower. 4) Elena never walked down the stairs this slow. So by process of elimination..

"Hi, Chris!" Stasi said, her smile wide as she enveloped me tightly in a hug. It didn't look she had trouble eating or was going through anything, she looked better than ever. Her skin was bright, with a rosy hue tinting her cheeks. I was just about to give her a passionate kiss on the lips when I realized that Yulia was standing right there and I remembered Stasi's want of keeping it under wraps for now. She broke the hug, looking up at me lovingly and grasping my hand. "Mama, Chris and I will be outside for a little bit!" She said over her shoulder. Yulia clasped her hands tightly, smiling at the both of us. "Be back quickly! I don't want you to spoil your dinner." She said enigmatically as she turned around to go back to the study.