Decisions Ch. 08

"Have you ever said it?" I asked.

"No."

"Try it."

"I don-.." He began.

"Try it!" I said.

"Really? Serio-..."

"We're not going to end this conversation until you say it." I said, a grin slapped on my face.

"Why do I have to say it?" He asked.

"Aw, come on." I said, throwing up my hand. "Just say it."

"Uh," He stuttered. "I.. I mean... will you say it?"

"No, hell no. It's not the same thing if I say it." I replied.

"Well, why do you want me to say it?"

"You know what, forget it." I said, exasperated. "Here comes coach."

Coach Butler squeezed his way in front of us. He was starting to grow a beard, the coarse auburn hairs lining his mouth. He glanced back at the two of us. "Chris, you're going out as Captain. Sokolov, you're an alternate." Without another word, he turned to the door, pushing it open. We were met with a swarm of flashing lights from cameras as we marched forward, balancing on our skates.

People screamed my name as I walked past them, walking through the cramped tunnel and into the rink. Right as the opening riff of 'Welcome to the Jungle' by Guns N' Roses started, we were already on the ice, getting warmed up. I looked around the rink.The whole school was here, and then some. I guess people just wanted a distraction from what was going on outside of good old sports.

I turned to glance at the other team, who were starting to hop on the ice. Their purple and green uniforms didn't look too attractive and they were met with a chorus of boos. Once both teams got their warmups out of the way, Vik and I skated to the center rink, being met with three players from the opposing team. Their captain and two alternates. The referee was standing there as well as a gruff police officer.

"That's a first." I mumbled, as we skated to a stop.

"Blue captains, Purple captains." The referee gestured for us to approach. "Alright, you all know how to play hockey, right? Good. I want a nice, clean match. Any questions from the purple? Any questions from the blue? Alright, shake hands and get your line out on the ice."

Vik and I stepped forward, outstretching our hands. The handshake was a long-standing proud hockey tradition; a symbol of mutual respect and sportsmanship. It looked like this team had none of that. We were met with stone-cold silence. Jeers from the crowd rang out and I felt anger bubbling in my stomach.

"Ok, ok." The referee said, stepping in between us. "Let's get this game on the road."

Vik and I skated back to the bench, then back out to the ice with Jordan and the Kelly brothers in two. I clambered into my position to the left of Vik, waiting nervously for the faceoff. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a great big Royal Blue poster with my face tacked right on the center. Sure enough, Ricky was holding it up for everyone to see. My heart skipped. I felt braver, more ready. I turned back to the winger in front of me, smiling. The referee squatted, making sure that Vik and the Columbus center across from him were set. He then dropped the puck and off we went.

The game was solid back and forth, nobody scoring or making a big play until three minutes left in the first period. It was a tense game, with both sides riled up. I was on the ice, keeping the puck in front of me and skating as fast as I could towards the other goalie. Cocking my stick, I did a slapshot, firing the puck towards the goalie.

"Shit!" I cried through my mouthguard as the goalie caught it. I slowed down. My world was suddenly turned upside down as the Columbus defenseman collided into me with his shoulder lowered, sending me flying.

"OI!" Vik screamed at the ref as the crowd roared in outrage. "What the hell was that?"

"Hey, hey!" The ref yelled, panicking as the two teams converged on us. "That's it, that's it."

Dan Kelly helped me up, staring angrily at the defenseman who crashed into me. "Stupid asshole." He yelled, taking two steps forward and pushing him against the glass.

"Danny, no!" I cried, following him and putting my hands around him. I was trying to keep him from throwing any punches. While Dan and the defenseman simply just pulled jerseys, all he needed to do was throw a punch and he'd get a penalty... or worse.

"Watch the lawsuit, Dan. Watch the lawsuit." I panted, trying to yank him off. "Don't even worry, it was a close play."

With some brief assistance from Vik and Dan's twin, Henry, we managed to get him off of the defenseman and he was replaced by Jones so he could cool off. Our team was fired up after that close encounter and it showed. Although Henry was struggling without his twin brother at his side, we were doing well. It only took two more minutes of play before we had something going on, rushing the puck forward with Brady in possession.

"7/11!" He yelled, catching my attention.

I nearly forgot my nickname. Brady was trying to make the nickname 7/11 stick with me. He said it was because I was always open.

He passed the puck to me and I secured it, firing a wristshot from the blue line. The hardened piece of rubber sailed through the air, dinging against the crossbar and down into the net. "Woohoo!" I screamed, pumping my fist as the spectators erupted into deafening cheers, assisted by the alto of the goal horn.

Despite that, it was an uphill battle. A miscommunication in the second period left us at tied at one to one and Columbus was not a school to be trifled with. But, neither were we. It was a hard battle and Vik and I were on fire... well, more Vik. I was doing decent, but decent wasn't good enough against Columbus. I was struggling with my shots. Shots I should have been able to make were going anywhere but the net. Vik was able to pick up the slack, making all the plays he could.

He was the one keeping an eye on me when I should've been the one keeping an eye on him! I had no idea what was making him do so good, but I was liking it. Maybe it was because the mermaid he may or may not have loved was in the stands watching him.

We managed to keep the game tied until the end of regulation and went into overtime. The entire first line was supposed to be off for the first minute to get some rest. We didn't need it. Vik had somehow managed to get the puck passed to him across the blue line. Surprised that he even got the puck, he froze, looking at the piece of rubber in horror. Swearing, I jumped to my feet, cupping my hands around my mouth.

"SHOOT, VIK! SHOOT!" I screamed.

With a defenseman flying towards him, Vik smacked the puck as hard as he could with his stick, bracing himself for the impending hit. With a thud, he was slammed by the defenseman, the groan of the crowd sounding all around the stadium. The crowd's shock, however, wasn't to be absorbed too easily. We watched with bated breath as the puck sailed past the goalie and into the net.

What was pure bated silence became pandemonium as the stadium erupted, Belcourt clinching its first playoff game in it's history as a school. I jumped off the bench, skating over to Vik and flapping my arms, my team not so far behind me. As I reached Vik and slapped his shoulders, yelling in his face, I saw him trying to blink tears out of his eyes, because for once, hard work did get to pay off.

When the clock ran out and we went back to the locker room, we were elated to say the least. I was shaking everyone's hand, congratulating everyone on clinching the playoffs, until Coach Butler walked in.

"Alright men, congratulations. We're in the playoffs, that's pretty impressive." He said, when the noise died down. "You earned it, alright? But we're in the playoffs, so we're back at zero wins and zero losses. But hey, we just gotta' keep grinding it out like we have all year, just keep grinding and uh... handle the playoffs like we handled everything all year and just working, keep grinding, getting better, and be ready to play our best football come playoffs. Got it?"

"Yes, Coach." We chorused.

"Alright, bring it in, guys. Gimme a hug." He said. With a cheer, we all crowded around him, swarming him in a smelly, testosterone-fueled hug.

Chapter 7:

The video that was accompanied with the Thomas Santo Shooting shooting had a sensitizing effect. The shooting itself raised eyebrows, but the video stirred deep resentment in Los Angeles, as well as other major cities in the United States and even Canada. The fact that the DTOSA somehow protected the officers from being charged also must've had an effect.

San Francisco was one of those cities, with mass demonstrations taking place at the Pacific Mall. Over 20,000 protestors united at the well-known hangout place for nonhumans to protest the injustice of the DTOSA.

Stasi and I would've gone had Anton not told us that the San Francisco Police Department set aside over one million dollars in overtime. I don't know about the next person, but with Belcourt now in the playoffs, I wasn't really into getting my head smashed in by an overzealous riot police officer's baton.

Instead, I did what any good friend would do. I sent out a mass text and invited everyone to my house for dinner, to simply enjoy the night and find some way to ignore my beloved city tearing itself apart. Rather than brave the bitter cold waving a poster, I was instead lounging on the loveseat with the love of my life and a shared bowl of rosolje between us, surrounded by our close friends and family. Ricky, Lucy, and Jazz were able to get dropped off by their parents, despite their concerns.

"It seems that everything has gone to waste, has it not, Christopher?" Anton asked, watching a protester yelling into the camera.

"What thing, Mr. Sokolov?" Lucy piped up.

"The football thing. Where we played football with a bunch of kids." I replied. "But no, Anton. I don't think it all went to waste."

"You know, Christopher... ya tozhe tak dumayu." He looked around the living room. "Is someone missing?"

"Huh?" Stasi asked.

"I feel as if someone's missing." Anton said.

"Yes, papa. Jaz-... Jasmine isn't here. She didn't answer her phone." Stasi said. "She must be at home watching the news. Every Belcourt student is. I wouldn't be surprised if people don't go to school on Monday and go to the Pacific Mall instead."

"I wouldn't be surprised. It kinda looks like fun." I chuckled. Even though it was clear that something was going to happen with the massive amount of people, it still looked a bit of fun. It almost looked like a festival, with the music and dancing in the center of the protest. Everyone was just standing around, singing, and dancing. From what I could see through the TV, reporters were going around and interviewing different people and there were smiles to be seen.

Of course, when night fell, everything changed.

*****

Deciding to leave the living room to the adults, we had all migrated to my room. Fitting six people inside of my room wasn't a tough task. Elena had the computer chair, but was out making hot chocolate for everyone. Stasi and I had the bed. Ricky had 'Ricky's Spot', Lucy had her own spot to fit her massive carapace, and Viktor was relegated to the closet.

We were watching the proceedings on our TV. It was clear from the beginning that the police were preparing for something. They were creeping in around the Pacific Mall, creating a wall of shields. Slowly, they advanced and when they were within breathing room of protestors, they began to swung their batons and throw tear gas into the crowds.

"Jesus!" I exclaimed as I watched a college lamia get beaten over the head with a baton. There was a lot of screaming and wailing as the cameraman fled to a safer spot, the live footage extremely shaky. But, just when the action started, it ended. The live stream was cut off and it was back to the news anchor. "Did you see that? It looked like the police had enough."

"Yeah, I'm going to be checking Twitter now. Tam, navernoye, nekotoryye khoroshiye veshchi tam."

"Good idea." I said. "You ok, Ricky?"

Ricky was staring at the TV, his mouth open. He looked at me, closing it and swallowing. "Chris?"

"'Sup?"

"She's there."

"Who?"

"Jazz."

"What about her?"

"She went."

"We-... what?!" I asked, my heart plummeting.

"She went. She begged me not to tell you guys."

"Ricky, what the fu-... WHAT?!" I pointed to the TV. "Did you not see what's happening?"

"I know, I know!" He said, panicking. "But she begged me not to tell you."

"Shit," I groaned, walking over to my closet to go grab a jacket.

"Lyubov," Stasi asked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting a jacket. I'm driving to the Pacific Mall and I'm going to drag her home kicking and screaming if I have to." I said, sliding on my black North Face jacket.

"Chris, no, you're not going anywhere." Stasi said, scrambling off the bed and getting in my way. "Your parents aren't going to let you. I'm not going to let you."

"Stasi, move." I said. She raised her eyebrow, giving me a look. "Please." I loved my friends and I was protective with all of them. If Jazz was there, I was going to go there and bring her back safely. If she got hurt...

No, I won't think like that.

Stasi had a furious expression on her face. "If you're going, then I'm going!"

My eyes widened. "No you're not! You're staying right here where it's safe and warm. I'm going by myself."

"No, you're not." Viktor insisted, standing up. "Take me with you. I'll watch your back, Chris."

That actually... wasn't a bad idea.

"Ok, Vik." I said. "Get into something warm."

"What?!" Stasi snarled, her pupils dilating and fangs elongating. She grabbed me by the shirt, putting her face inches from mine. "No. NYET! I'm not going to just sit here and wait for you. I'm coming with you or you're not going at all." She hissed.

I simply stared at her, my mouth slightly ajar. Why didn't I want to take her? She did martial arts with me. She was fit. I trusted her to have my back all my life. Why wasn't I trusting her now?

We both knew the answer.

The dream.

It seemed so far away, but the thought of it was still there. It cut scars in my mind that would never heal. If I took everyone I loved with me, it was going to happen. I know it. I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut. Stasi knew what that meant. She knew what was going on in my head. She knew everything about me. She loved me with all her being and I, her.

"Chris," She whispered, quietly, planting a soft kiss on my lips, her previous furiousness gone. "It's not going to happen. I promise. Let me help you. Where you go, I go. Let me have your back, like you have mine. Don't even argue with me, it's going to do you no good."

I opened my eyes. Her fangs were back to how they normally were. A simple accentuation of her beautiful smile. Her eyes were back to their crystal blue. Those wide eyes that I wanted to just dive into. "Ok." I breathed. "Ok. Stasi, let's go. Ricky, you come too. You'll be able to see over everybody."

"And be a bigger target for the police." Ricky grumbled. "How do we sneak out?"

"The window," Stasi said. "We'll go to the window. Our security detail isn't out tonight. Anton thought they deserved the night to be with their families."

"Aright, vamonos." Ricky said.

"Wait," Lucy asked. "What about me?"

"Lucy, you stay." I said.

"What?!" She exclaimed. "If your parents come in, my web is dusted!"

"Lucy," I said. "I don't have enough space in my car and I don't want you to get hurt. Can you just... can you just try and keep a low profile for an hour or two? We'll just grab her and run, I promise. You won't get in trouble, I bet my life on it."

Lucy bit her lip, trying to think of ways to protest. I knew she didn't want to go. She just wanted to be there for Jazz, but I was like her sometimes. Scared of people and shy. We both hated confrontation. "Ok." She said. "Be back soon, you four."

We got the window open and just as Viktor and Ricky slid out, my door opened. My heart sank, thinking that we were made, but standing at the door was Elena. She stared back at us, holding onto a tray with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. "Where are you guys going?"

"Ricky's house." I lied.

"Liar." Elena said. I was a terrible liar and Elena saw right through it. Her eyes widened when she put two and two together. "You're going to the Pacific Mall, aren't you?"

"Elena..." I began.

"Nyet!" She cried, setting the tray down. "Take me with you, please! I want to be there!"

"No, Elena." Stasi said, rushing forward. She grabbed her little sister by the shoulders, staring down at her. "You're staying here."

"But, Anna!" She began.

"No, Elena! You're staying here. I don't want you to get hurt."

"But, I want to be there for my people." Elena said, tearfully. Little drops of blood began leaking from her tear ducts and down her cheeks. "Chris, make her say yes!"

"I'm sorry." I said, my heart breaking.

Stasi turned to me. "Lyubov, I'll meet you outside. Ya poluchil eto."

"Alright." I replied, leaving my room and going out the window. Instead of jumping down onto the pavement like the other two, I sat on the windowsill, watching what was going on inside. I had to turn away after fifteen seconds, the sight of a tearful Stasi embracing a crying Elena too much for me to handle.

******

The dark night was brightly lit by a multitude of colors. The harsh glow from the line of ambulances waiting for clearance to drive into the mall and the warm light emanating from the store that was burning down the street. We had found our way to get into the Pacific Mall past the police barrier. They had left one of the roads unblocked for emergency vehicles. We parked our car one mile away and jogged the rest of the way.

Evidently, what was earlier a protest was quickly becoming a full blown riot and from the last Stasi checked, this wasn't the only place where it was happening. There were minor public disturbances happening nearby in Oakland to all the way in New York City. People, from doctors, to police chiefs, to janitors, the entire country were coming out and saying that this had to stop.

Why?

Why did this have to happen?

Couldn't we all just get along?

As we ran around protestors and police officers alike, looking for any sign of Jazz, a man on the back of a pickup truck with a megaphone was preaching to a crowd of protesters, reading from a piece of paper.

"The Declaration of Independence," Stasi panted. "How fitting."

"Yeah, especially the 'All Men are Created Equal' part." I gasped. "Ricky, where did you say she was, again?"

"Up ahead by like... another 100 yards." He said, checking his phone. iPhones were useful. They were able to track each other. Stasi and I had Androids so we had that least bit of privacy. "Wait... wait... she's at a store up ahead! I know this store. Vamonos!"

With Ricky leading the way and us three in tow, we sprinted after him. "Jesus, it's like Normandy here." Viktor gasped, stepping around rubble and people.

"Saving Private Jazz, yeah?" I laughed, darkly. Finally, we made it, pushing past loads of people. Ricky converged on a large mass of makeshift tents and people.

"Jazz!" We called out among the camp. Wounded people were scattered around and I instantly knew that this was a makeshift field hospital. My mind went to the worst, thinking Jazz was hurt. "Jazz! Jazz! Jazz, where are you?!"

After fifteen minutes, when our voices grew hoarse and our hopes of finding her among the swathes of people grew dim, Stasi and Viktor heard her. With their vampire hearing, they were good to have around. After only a few more seconds, I heard her too.

"Here!" She called back. "Here, I'm over here!"

We ran over to where her voice came from, which was a small tent. I pulled the tarp aside, expecting to find Jazz on some kind of gurney. Imagine my surprise when I found her tending to a wounded old lady. Blood was running down from a gash on her forehead and Jazz was wiping it away, applying gauze to the wound with gloved hands. She looked up at us, her eyes widening. "Chris... Ricky... what are you guys doing here?"