Page 2 of Fear of Falling

At least, not from me. Instead, they argued about the order I positioned them in–which was in order of height. But then they wanted to change the order based on their jersey numbers, only then I couldn’t see everyone. All the while, their coach stood off to the side, having an animated conversation on his phone, seemingly oblivious to disaster unfolding before me.

My frustration was building, and I felt like I was seconds away from completely losing it. One simple picture–that’s all I was asking for. I’ve had little kids act better than this, and trust me, wrangling kids for a photograph is hard work. Taking pictures of them running plays was easy–each of them happy to show off.

Afterfinallygetting the boys position, I called over to the coach to have him join the team. I then rapidly took a series of photographs before they all started moving again. Over an hour, and all I had were the photos. It was tempting to leave it at thatand get on with my weekend, but Lydia had specified she wanted comments for the article, and there was no way I was coming back again next week. Overtime or not.

With my camera hanging from my neck and my phone’s voice recording app on, I walked over to the boys. “Who would like to make a comment for the article?” I called out over the loud chatter. An instantaneous sea of heads turned towards me, before I suddenly found myself swarmed. “Okay, okay! One at a time, please!” I waved my hands to quieten them.

I should have known that a bunch of teenage boys required specific instructions as their attempts at humorous questions were thrown at me.

“Are you single?” The boy in front of me asked, with a mouthful of braces and a horrific haircut. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but clearly thought he was smooth. I raised an eyebrow at him in response. Around him his friends snorted, a few slapping him on the back for what they thought was a ballsy act. “In your dreams,” I replied, turning to the next player. His question was no better.

“Are you into football players, babe?”

It took everything I had not to laugh at his attempt at a suave smirk. Sophisticated, these boys weren’t.

“Nope. Next.”

“How about you and me ditch this place and go get something to eat.” This boy went so far as to wink at me. I decided to call his bluff.

“Sure. Do you have a car?” I asked. The kid sputtered in front of me, his cheeks reddening in response. “Thought so.” Before another boy could ask me out or make some stupid horny comment, I held my hands up and took charge. “I’m twenty-five and so far out of your league. That goes forallof you. Now if anyone actually has something to say about this team, or the upcoming championship, then step forward. If not, I suggest yougo wait for your parents to pick you up.” The looks on their faces were priceless as suddenly none could meet my eye. They clearly weren’t used to taking blows to their egos. With their humor deflated, they grumbled and started walking away towards the parking lot. I probably should have felt bad, but I didn’t.

Aside from the fact they were all far too young, I was completely over this assignment. One that should have taken less than an hour had taken almost two. Yet, I still had no comments for the article. As I was about to call my losses and tell Lydia I’d come back next week, one of the boys appeared to change his mind as he turned and walked back towards me. He appeared to be one of the older of the team, 17 or 18, with a mop of dirty blond hair that he huffed out of his eyes.

“Sorry about them,” he nodded back at the rest of his team. “I’m Mateo, team captain.”

“Nice to meet you, Mateo.”

“Do you still need some comments? I’m happy to help.”

My eyebrows shot up, surprised by the legitimate offer. “Uh, yeah, I do.” As much as I wanted to get home, I knew this was my way out of having to return on Monday. “I promise it will be quick.” Before he could back out, I held my phone up and asked my first question. “So, this is the first time your team,The Greyhounds,has made it to the Championship. How excited are you and the team?”

“We’re pumped!” he grinned, lighting up his features with excitement. “We came so close last year, but this year we’re going to win it. I know we can.”

I was pleasantly surprised by the maturity of his response–especially compared to his teammates. “So, you’re a high school senior, correct?”

He nodded, still smiling.

“After graduation, are you planning to continue playing at university?”

“Sure am. I already have a few schools I’m interested in and hoping to play for.”

I went on to ask him a few more questions about his time on the team, what he enjoyed most about playing football, and how he liked his coach. Once I was satisfied I had enough for the article, I turned off my voice recorder and slid my phone in my pocket.

“Thank you, Mateo. I appreciate you taking the time to answer my questions.”

“No problem. Happy to help.” Mateo huffed his hair out of his eyes again before he grinned.

“Good luck at the Championship,” I smiled back, not wanting to keep either of us away from the weekend any longer.

“Thanks!” Giving me a nod, he turned on his heel and jogged towards the parking lot. By now almost everyone was gone, only a few teens remained chatting as they waited for their parents, their coach long gone. Happy to have finally finished, I double checked I had all my things and headed back towards my car.

Sliding in the driver's seat, I pulled out my phone and sent Lydia a quick text to let her know I was done, including a reminder that she really owed me one. After securing my camera safely back in its case, I was finally ready to head home.

2

JOSIE

Thanks to the damn assignment taking so long, I found myself caught in the tail end of the traffic pouring out of the hockey arena. What should have been a fifteen-minute ride home turned into forty. By the time I reached my apartment building I was beyond tired, annoyed, and hungry.

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