(Chester Mullivan entered the V9 Pregames with a-
Thump
It was the first big football game that Chester's team had been practicing for a while, and right now they were down seven to nothing.
That loud thump you just heard was Chester slamming himself into the enemy quarterback, from the school Del Sol. Now he lay flat on his back, his mind exploding with excitement.
It had been the fourth down, and thanks to Chester, the Red Rock Rattlers (try saying that three times fast) would now be given the chance to even the score.
Chester could have laid on the floor forever feeling fantastic, but an arm from another player snapped him out of it. Chester grabbed the player's hand and was soon standing up. "Thanks," Chester grunted out.
Once he was standing, his excitement had subsided and he was now focused on the rest of the game. Chester moved with the rest of his team to Coach Fransico, whose face could be seen as focused.
Chester liked Coach Francisco, as he was a scary-looking guy who was honestly a pretty nice person, very similar to Chester himself. Coach Fransisco looked at everyone and gravely told everyone:
"Now is the time to win."
Chester knew that time would come today.
How Many Concussions Does it Take To Win?
Football Game, so Players and Cheerleaders recommended
-
Survival Chances
- Posts: 85
- Joined: Mon Nov 18, 2024 9:53 pm
- Location: Las Vegas
How Many Concussions Does it Take To Win?
V9 characters:
Thomas Shaw - The Nerd
Chester Mullivan - The Kindhearted athlete
Kaede Miller - The Dramatic Theater kid
Samuel Burkholder - The Amish Criminal Guy
Want more? Go HERE!
Thomas Shaw - The Nerd
Chester Mullivan - The Kindhearted athlete
Kaede Miller - The Dramatic Theater kid
Samuel Burkholder - The Amish Criminal Guy
Want more? Go HERE!
The turf on the sidelines, as always, was neatly branded with the sole patterns of all the shoes the Rattlers had chosen to wear that day. Black shoes, obviously. Red and black all over, like the enemy was going to be when the game was done!
[Clarissa Shoemaker, Memory Thread I'll figure out the number later]
Clarissa did not like defense cheers. They weren't as fun!
Got dang smug Del Sol Dragon cheerleaders were doing that one funny bit that got viral on TikTok once every other month where they were all yawns, pretending to sleep on the bleachers. First off, the Rattlers did that trick better because they had a stack of pillows and blankets on stand by when they decided to pull it out. And also, arrogant! The last laugh would be theirs. It allllways was. The number of games Clarissa had been sidelines to that had been Ls since her freshman year barely scratched double digits. Everyone in their school had the DNA of a winner. And, like, the DNA of a really tall person, but Clarissa guessed those things went hand in hand.
She was holding a water bottle fresh with icy condensation, pressing it to her neck, little droplets hitting the bodice of her shell. Hey, Ronnie was probably parched too, wasn't he? The cheerleaders had scattered into smaller groups, stretching, chattering, phones-ing. Clarissa caught Sylvie's eye, smiled. Frien! She moved on. Her forearms, elbows, and fingers were all still warm with the shared body heat of Joanne and Ingrid M. Gently tense and sore in the good way that muscles were when they did work but were already ready for their next shift. Coach caught her eye next. Clarissa had always been jealous of her beautiful eyes, low key. Way brighter and more pleasant to look at than Clarissa's, which she sometimes like to think of as thunderstorm clouds stuck behind her cornea. Coach smiled, two thumbs up. Clarissa couldn't help but swell up a bit at the unspoken praise. Her relaxed slouch became a prideful spring in her step.
Coach jerked her head sidelong at the football boy's huddle. Oh. Oh dang it, right.
One of Coaches many old (not that she looked old or even close to it) wise people strategies was that the cheer team always needed to have one of the boys or girls hovering near a team huddle. In her words (very paraphrased) that person had to read the mood, figure out the tone of whatever chants they did next. Uhhhhh. Clarissa tried to do that Thing when it was her turn, anyways. It wasn't her strong suit. Usually she just got back to the girls and said 'one hundred twenty percent!' or something that sounded nice but she didn't know the actual meaning or implication like, at all. Anyways! Clarissa did the thing where she nodded and wandered towards Coach Francisco's huddle, a bit stiff, eyes like camera lenses that had turned the person in the shot blurry and the everything else that didn't matter crystal clear.
Oh, and a smile. She had to wear a smile!
She hovered to one side, barely capable of peeking through the curtain of beefy boys, one of whom idly fistbumped her. Brixsen! Who was standing before he went back to sitting because he usually didn't get out on the field much. Clarissa focused on the quality of Coach Francisco's voice. He sounded like he had just banged his funny bone into a desk corner and was trying not to shout in pain. Relatable! Okay. Right. That meant things were serious. Clarissa stared at his face but that didn't tell her anything else that she could intuit. She glanced around a bit, idly sipping at her water. Hey, there was Chester. She tensed up a bit. No wait, she undid that. Chester was coooooool. It had been a long time since that fight in sophomore year.
That she could still remember vividly. The yelling and the sounds of knuckles cracking like pork rinds.
Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh, smile!
[Clarissa Shoemaker, Memory Thread I'll figure out the number later]
Clarissa did not like defense cheers. They weren't as fun!
Got dang smug Del Sol Dragon cheerleaders were doing that one funny bit that got viral on TikTok once every other month where they were all yawns, pretending to sleep on the bleachers. First off, the Rattlers did that trick better because they had a stack of pillows and blankets on stand by when they decided to pull it out. And also, arrogant! The last laugh would be theirs. It allllways was. The number of games Clarissa had been sidelines to that had been Ls since her freshman year barely scratched double digits. Everyone in their school had the DNA of a winner. And, like, the DNA of a really tall person, but Clarissa guessed those things went hand in hand.
She was holding a water bottle fresh with icy condensation, pressing it to her neck, little droplets hitting the bodice of her shell. Hey, Ronnie was probably parched too, wasn't he? The cheerleaders had scattered into smaller groups, stretching, chattering, phones-ing. Clarissa caught Sylvie's eye, smiled. Frien! She moved on. Her forearms, elbows, and fingers were all still warm with the shared body heat of Joanne and Ingrid M. Gently tense and sore in the good way that muscles were when they did work but were already ready for their next shift. Coach caught her eye next. Clarissa had always been jealous of her beautiful eyes, low key. Way brighter and more pleasant to look at than Clarissa's, which she sometimes like to think of as thunderstorm clouds stuck behind her cornea. Coach smiled, two thumbs up. Clarissa couldn't help but swell up a bit at the unspoken praise. Her relaxed slouch became a prideful spring in her step.
Coach jerked her head sidelong at the football boy's huddle. Oh. Oh dang it, right.
One of Coaches many old (not that she looked old or even close to it) wise people strategies was that the cheer team always needed to have one of the boys or girls hovering near a team huddle. In her words (very paraphrased) that person had to read the mood, figure out the tone of whatever chants they did next. Uhhhhh. Clarissa tried to do that Thing when it was her turn, anyways. It wasn't her strong suit. Usually she just got back to the girls and said 'one hundred twenty percent!' or something that sounded nice but she didn't know the actual meaning or implication like, at all. Anyways! Clarissa did the thing where she nodded and wandered towards Coach Francisco's huddle, a bit stiff, eyes like camera lenses that had turned the person in the shot blurry and the everything else that didn't matter crystal clear.
Oh, and a smile. She had to wear a smile!
She hovered to one side, barely capable of peeking through the curtain of beefy boys, one of whom idly fistbumped her. Brixsen! Who was standing before he went back to sitting because he usually didn't get out on the field much. Clarissa focused on the quality of Coach Francisco's voice. He sounded like he had just banged his funny bone into a desk corner and was trying not to shout in pain. Relatable! Okay. Right. That meant things were serious. Clarissa stared at his face but that didn't tell her anything else that she could intuit. She glanced around a bit, idly sipping at her water. Hey, there was Chester. She tensed up a bit. No wait, she undid that. Chester was coooooool. It had been a long time since that fight in sophomore year.
That she could still remember vividly. The yelling and the sounds of knuckles cracking like pork rinds.
Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh, smile!
