literature

Just Being Boys

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Literature Text

Irritation kept me hot, in the chilling weather. Somehow, Wakefield managed to drag me out into empty bleachers (also cold) and watch the football (Soccer) team practice. Correction, he didn't drag me to the bleachers, he made me stand while he sat on the railing to see. The circular, metal, cold, slippery railing people would normally lean against if they were standing.

"If they only had a goalie, we'd be a force to be reckoned with." He muttered, talking about himself of course. Sure, the team really did lack a true goalie but they made due with what they had. Unfortunately, in doing so, they lost one of their top strikers (who used to play goalkeeper at one time or another). Wakefield would love to do it...but he didn't qualify. Apparently, only standing as high as someone's ankle disqualified you from playing major school sports.
I could tell how much it bothered him by how he leaned with fingers intertwined on his thigh. He was bouncing as well but again. Wakefield was the calm type so seeing the focus (even from behind) human in such a trance was incredible. That is, it was.
Until he fell off the railing.

I wasn't quite sure whether the cause was the wind blowing from behind me (somehow getting past me),  Wakefield's own stupidity was, or it was the damn rail's slippery ways finally got to him but I was sure of one thing.

"No, I'm not finished watching yet!"
"You are now," There was no discussion, in fact, I'd ended up putting him inside the pocket of my jacket where any convincing he could try would be muffled by cloth. Meanwhile, blood rushed in my ears and my heart pounded harshly in my chest. It never failed, every time something like this happened (which wasn't often) it allowed old thoughts to plow to the front of my mind. This is dangerous, so many things could have went wrong, I could have gripped too hard, I could have missed, Wakefield could be- jabbing me in the side, through the side of my jacket and creating a bruise.
"What?"
"Before we go back to your dorm, pick up some candy." I didn't.

When we'd gotten back to my room, I was prepared to pass out on my bed but something in my mind, warned me that it was a bad idea. Instead, I removed my jacket and laid it on the bed while taking a seat in my chair. I had homework and a bed equaled sleep in this type of weather anyway. Which is exactly why roughly twenty minutes later, a small voice coming from my bed startled me.

"Jason, what's it like being so big?" I turned in the rolling chair, momentarily searching for Wakefield against the grey jacket. He waved his hand to steer me in the right direction, I was thankful but I didn't say it.
"It's like...having too much homework, like we both have." A not-so-sly reminder that he needed to hit the books while he was here.
"No, seriously, what's it like..."
"I don't know, I've never been small so I technically, can't say."
"Don't give me that crap, everyone's been small, what you mean is, you've never been human so you can't tell me. I don't believe that either though."
"It is Wakefield," I spoke with slight exasperation, "how can I describe something like height when it's all relative, I can't see it from both perspective so my views wouldn't be very accurate." I guess it technically wasn't true but he had quieted down enough so, I presumed that he was either annoyed at my reluctance or satisfied enough at the moment, I highly doubted the later.

I turned back to my work and continued, distracted, which meant nothing got done. The symbols that made up various words and in some cases, numbers but none of it was processing. To be honest, the staring only gave me a headache, what I wanted to do was turn and look at Wakefield but my stiffnecked ways wouldn't allow it. Instead me and my body settled for laying my head down, groaning quietly.

I wasn't sure how long it'd been since I'd become a zombie with its head resting on the desk but I do know what brought me back to life. An annoying, too close, repetition of my own name. "Jason..." It pestered, persistent "Jason..." It continued, "Jason, you hear me calling you...my voice isn't that...insignificant..." I twitched and my head rose, my chair turned so I could look at him on the bed ,his voice wasn't at all, insignificant.

But when I searched the bed, he wasn't there. "Down here," He yelled and when I found him, his smile was smug as he continued, "I can't believe you actually reacted to that. My voice isn't that...insignificant," he mocked.
I ignored it, "How did you get down there?"
"Chill, I don't need you for everything. I'm a big kid, can tie my own shoes and everything."
"Whatever, just get off the floor." My hand lowered and he scurried away from it, for effect most likely. Wakefield shook his head and smiled a crooked smile. It disappeared along with him under the desk, "You want me, you'll have to catch me first."
"Grow up, I'm not doing this."

And thus, 20 minutes later he was back on my bed, crawling all over me while my face was smashed into a pillow. We did it, played a game of chase and although I had technically won because I caught him, I felt much more like the loser.
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