Toy Soldiers: Yellow Card (PG)
Summary: In which Ric tries out for the soccer team and Billy breaks the rules.
Notes: For prompt 26, "teammates."
YELLOW CARD
*
The first time Ric met Billy Tepper was at soccer tryouts, junior year. Mr. Rainer started them out with a pep talk, as if they were in elementary school and needed encouragement more than drills. Ric leaned his elbows on his knees and tried to look like he was listening.
"-- not merely trying to train you, but to encourage you to do your best in all circumstances --"
"Bullshit," someone muttered behind Ric.
"So?"
"Oh, come on. It's supposed to be a soccer tryout, not a motivational seminar."
"It's the first five minutes," Ric said over his shoulder, trying to keep his voice down too. He didn't want to start off the school year with a detention. "He can't be that bad."
One of the guys behind him -- the one with brownish-blond hair, in a red t-shirt -- just shrugged and looked at his friend. The other -- dark hair, skinny -- shook his head. "Nah. We lost all but two games last year."
The first guy grinned. "So why are you trying out again?"
"Mr. Tepper! Mr. Montoya!"
Shit. Ric got up and went over to where Mr. Rainer was standing, followed by the guy in the red shirt. Mr. Rainer threw them each a soccer ball. "If you gentleman wouldn't mind starting us with some drills," he said sharply. "The cones are over there."
"Down and back?"
"Yes, Mr. Montoya." Mr. Rainer pulled a whistle out of his pocket. "On my mark."
The other guy, Tepper, was already in position. Ric went over and dropped his ball in front of the cones, too. Nothing to worry about, he reminded himself. He'd been doing these drills since he was a kid.
"Hey. Montoya."
Ric looked up. Tepper had come over and stuck his hand out. He was grinning, like they were just fooling around on their own. "Billy Tepper," the guy said.
Ric hesitated one second, then took Tepper's -- Billy's -- hand. "Ric Montoya."
Billy shook his hand, then went back to his own ball. He looked down at the cones, same way Ric had been doing, then over at Ric. He was still grinning. "Race you."
Before Ric could say anything, the whistle blew.
By the time they'd each rounded the far cones and started back, the guys watching were yelling for them. Ric pulled ahead finally: Billy could run, but he couldn't control the ball like Ric could. Almost to the end --
Billy's ball shot by next to him, straight shot to the end, not around the cones at all. One of the guys down at the end -- the dark-haired one who'd been sitting next to Billy -- stopped it. Half the guys were laughing now, and even Mr. Rainer just shook his head. Ric rounded the last cone and stopped the ball, not sure if he should be pissed or not. Billy was the one who'd said he wanted to race.
Billy came over, though, and shook his hand again. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"Hey, you won. We're good for five minutes, anyway." Billy jerked his thumb toward the cones, where two other guys were tentatively kicking the ball down through the cones. One of them was the skinny dark-haired guy.
"Yeah," Ric said, just to say something, then, "Were you here last year?"
"No. Joey and Phil were." Billy looked away from the cones again. "You want to eat with us? They can tell you whatever."
Easy as that. "Sure," Ric said, and smiled back for the first time.
-end-
Notes: For prompt 26, "teammates."
YELLOW CARD
*
The first time Ric met Billy Tepper was at soccer tryouts, junior year. Mr. Rainer started them out with a pep talk, as if they were in elementary school and needed encouragement more than drills. Ric leaned his elbows on his knees and tried to look like he was listening.
"-- not merely trying to train you, but to encourage you to do your best in all circumstances --"
"Bullshit," someone muttered behind Ric.
"So?"
"Oh, come on. It's supposed to be a soccer tryout, not a motivational seminar."
"It's the first five minutes," Ric said over his shoulder, trying to keep his voice down too. He didn't want to start off the school year with a detention. "He can't be that bad."
One of the guys behind him -- the one with brownish-blond hair, in a red t-shirt -- just shrugged and looked at his friend. The other -- dark hair, skinny -- shook his head. "Nah. We lost all but two games last year."
The first guy grinned. "So why are you trying out again?"
"Mr. Tepper! Mr. Montoya!"
Shit. Ric got up and went over to where Mr. Rainer was standing, followed by the guy in the red shirt. Mr. Rainer threw them each a soccer ball. "If you gentleman wouldn't mind starting us with some drills," he said sharply. "The cones are over there."
"Down and back?"
"Yes, Mr. Montoya." Mr. Rainer pulled a whistle out of his pocket. "On my mark."
The other guy, Tepper, was already in position. Ric went over and dropped his ball in front of the cones, too. Nothing to worry about, he reminded himself. He'd been doing these drills since he was a kid.
"Hey. Montoya."
Ric looked up. Tepper had come over and stuck his hand out. He was grinning, like they were just fooling around on their own. "Billy Tepper," the guy said.
Ric hesitated one second, then took Tepper's -- Billy's -- hand. "Ric Montoya."
Billy shook his hand, then went back to his own ball. He looked down at the cones, same way Ric had been doing, then over at Ric. He was still grinning. "Race you."
Before Ric could say anything, the whistle blew.
By the time they'd each rounded the far cones and started back, the guys watching were yelling for them. Ric pulled ahead finally: Billy could run, but he couldn't control the ball like Ric could. Almost to the end --
Billy's ball shot by next to him, straight shot to the end, not around the cones at all. One of the guys down at the end -- the dark-haired one who'd been sitting next to Billy -- stopped it. Half the guys were laughing now, and even Mr. Rainer just shook his head. Ric rounded the last cone and stopped the ball, not sure if he should be pissed or not. Billy was the one who'd said he wanted to race.
Billy came over, though, and shook his hand again. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"Hey, you won. We're good for five minutes, anyway." Billy jerked his thumb toward the cones, where two other guys were tentatively kicking the ball down through the cones. One of them was the skinny dark-haired guy.
"Yeah," Ric said, just to say something, then, "Were you here last year?"
"No. Joey and Phil were." Billy looked away from the cones again. "You want to eat with us? They can tell you whatever."
Easy as that. "Sure," Ric said, and smiled back for the first time.
-end-