Day 06 - Prompt 04 - Full Contact-Sport
Full-Contact Sport (HCL, Joe, Billy, PG, 408 words) for ds_aprilfools Day the 6th
It was a cold, windy afternoon but neither of them had noticed. They'd spent the last hour playing soccer with some of the other neighborhood kids, running the black-and-white checked ball up and down the grassy lot with the endless energy of twelve year olds.
Billy was scrawny and underweight, no matter how much Joe's mum tried to fatten him up. It was easy for Steven Talbot to push hard enough to knock Billy to the ground, ripping a hole in the knee of his already-mended jeans. Joe was on Steven in a flash, rage splashed across his face, fists flying. He got a couple of good shots in, splitting the other boy's lip and blackening his eye, before dragging Billy to his feet and pulling him off the lot. With a tight grip on Billy's elbow, Joe bullied and tugged him into a culvert at the far end of the field, slightly sheltered from the biting autumn wind.
He made Billy sit down and pull up the leg of his jeans so that Joe could see the abraded skin. It had bled a little. “You okay?” he asked gruffly.
Billy shrugged, a bare movement of his thin shoulders. He shivered and huddled down in his threadbare flannel jacket, the one that had been a hand-me-down a couple of years ago. Joe dropped down next to Billy and pulled him close, trying to share his body heat. Billy was always cold. Undernourished, underfed, and undergrown, as his mum would say when Billy wasn't around, shaking her head sadly.
“Mum's making beef stew for dinner, wanna come over?” Joe was under strict orders to bring Billy home whenever he could. His mum was worried about Billy, with his dad gone and his mum drinking like she did. Joe was worried, too, but he tried to not let it show. “She can fix your jeans up, too.”
Billy shrugged again, trying to hide how much he wanted a warm meal and the rough affection of Joe's mum. “I guess.”
“'kay. Let's go home, then,” Joe said, struggling to his feet, holding onto Billy's hand and helping him up, unwilling to let go for even for a moment. Sometimes he felt that if he didn't keep a firm grasp on Billy, he would disappear, vanish right before Joe's eyes. That wasn't something he was going to let happen. Not now, not ever.
My prompt table
It was a cold, windy afternoon but neither of them had noticed. They'd spent the last hour playing soccer with some of the other neighborhood kids, running the black-and-white checked ball up and down the grassy lot with the endless energy of twelve year olds.
Billy was scrawny and underweight, no matter how much Joe's mum tried to fatten him up. It was easy for Steven Talbot to push hard enough to knock Billy to the ground, ripping a hole in the knee of his already-mended jeans. Joe was on Steven in a flash, rage splashed across his face, fists flying. He got a couple of good shots in, splitting the other boy's lip and blackening his eye, before dragging Billy to his feet and pulling him off the lot. With a tight grip on Billy's elbow, Joe bullied and tugged him into a culvert at the far end of the field, slightly sheltered from the biting autumn wind.
He made Billy sit down and pull up the leg of his jeans so that Joe could see the abraded skin. It had bled a little. “You okay?” he asked gruffly.
Billy shrugged, a bare movement of his thin shoulders. He shivered and huddled down in his threadbare flannel jacket, the one that had been a hand-me-down a couple of years ago. Joe dropped down next to Billy and pulled him close, trying to share his body heat. Billy was always cold. Undernourished, underfed, and undergrown, as his mum would say when Billy wasn't around, shaking her head sadly.
“Mum's making beef stew for dinner, wanna come over?” Joe was under strict orders to bring Billy home whenever he could. His mum was worried about Billy, with his dad gone and his mum drinking like she did. Joe was worried, too, but he tried to not let it show. “She can fix your jeans up, too.”
Billy shrugged again, trying to hide how much he wanted a warm meal and the rough affection of Joe's mum. “I guess.”
“'kay. Let's go home, then,” Joe said, struggling to his feet, holding onto Billy's hand and helping him up, unwilling to let go for even for a moment. Sometimes he felt that if he didn't keep a firm grasp on Billy, he would disappear, vanish right before Joe's eyes. That wasn't something he was going to let happen. Not now, not ever.
My prompt table