Decisions Ch. 02

"C'mon, Vik. Take it to the house!" I screamed. Casey Faulk, my old teammate at Jefferson, ran up to the ball, booting it high like a mortar, far away from Valerian Hightower and into the hands of Viktor Sokolov. I was somewhat in envy that Jefferson had a such a good kicker, because Belcourt couldn't kick if their lives depended on it. "C'mon, Viktor.." I murmured, as he took off, bobbing and weaving through defenders before someone finally got their hands around him, taking him down.

"Viktor Sokolov, vampire number twenty five, returns a 40 yard kick 19 yards to the 29 yard line. Not bad, but not too good either.

I stared at the clock. 1:33 left, three timeouts, and 71 yards to go. A hand kept me in place before I could head onto the field. I turned around, looking at Coach Freddy. "You got this. 538 Fullback Flare." He said, before slapping me on the helmet and pushing me onto the field.

I stepped in front of my formation, looking back at the other goal line, 71 yards away. From here, it looked impossibly long. I turned back to my guys. "You all knew it was going to be a battle. Let's keep fighting, now. Show them what we're made of. Let's go, 538 Fullback Flare. 538 Fullback Flare. On one, on one, ready..."

"Break." Everybody said, going to their positions. I stared over at the stands before I called for the ball, seeing Stasi biting her nails with her fangs, a habit that she never managed to break since elementary school. I held out my hands to my center.

"Down.... Reeeeeeeeaaaaaaaddddy..... Set 180..... Hutty-hut!"

The ball was snapped into my hands and I dropped back, looking around my formation for my recievers. My offensive line was tired, but so was Jefferson's, their starters haven't been given rest since halftime. I was given plenty of time, my eyes snapping over to my slot receiver, Joel Rocca, who was running a post, the man covering him in quick pursuit.

I braced my body, bringing my arm back to throw, before pumping forward and lobbing the ball with an intense velocity. The ball sailed through the air, spiraling as it flew towards it's target, Rocca's outstretched hands. I knew he would've caught it had the cornerback not grabbed his jersey, pulling him back and keeping him from catching the ball, which sailed past the pair and nearly got intercepted by the safety. My eyes grew wide at the nearby referee, who signaled for an incomplete pass.

"Are you kidding me?!" I asked the umpire behind me as the crowd booed and voiced their indignation that Pass Interference wasn't called. Even the announcer sounded mad. The umpire rolled his eyes, putting his whistle in his mouth. "That was a freaking blatant PI!" I pleaded. The umpire shook his head, spitting out his whistle, and smiling eerily at me. "Not the way I saw it, monster lover." He replied, malevolently. "Now shut up or i'll flag you for an unsportsmanlike conduct."

I threw up my arms in frustration. "That's fucking ridiculous." I muttered under my breath, looking over at my coach, who wrote a twenty on a whiteboard, signaling it over to me. I looked at my wrist, where my playbook band had the plays on it. Each play corresponded to a number. When we were short on time, Coach simply gave us a number from the sideline which I translated to a play and told the formation so we could hustle to our spots.

"Let it go, Rocca." I said, at the irritated slot receiver once I got into the huddle. "Referees have been blowing this game since kickoff. Anyways, guys, huddle up. Eagle 834, Fullback Seam. On one on one, ready... break!"

I passed the ball to the same receiver, Rocca, who burned the cornerback who committed the uncalled foul and caught the ball on a slant route for 14 yards before being taken down by the other team's linebacker. The bad thing was, he was tackled in bounds and we had no timeouts left. The clock was still running down from 1:05. I signaled for the offense to hurry up and get into the formation, looking at coach for a number. He held up a hastily scribbled fifteen, which I translated on my wrist playbook.

"Army 561, DHS!" I yelled to the left and right side of my formation. "Army 561, DHS! Down.... Ready.... Set 180... hut-hut!" I yelled, the ball being snapped into my hands. I was being blitzed by two linebackers, who were let in without so much as a block by the two pulling guards. Backpedaling to avoid being tackled by 400 combined pounds of testosterone and aggression, I flicked the ball to a waiting Viktor Sokolov, who caught the ball, and turned up the field.

"Ough!" I grunted, falling to the ground as I was hit hard by the linebacker. "A bit late there, buddy." I said, pushing him off of me and sitting up to look at the play. A wave of blockers in royal blue jerseys were clearing the way for Viktor, who was bobbing and weaving in between tackles. For not playing football before in his life, Viktor had moves. He was fast and agile, but not fast and agile enough. The free safety managed to grab hold of his ankles just as he was about to break free, taking him down inbounds.

"Fuck." I mumbled, standing up to run down the field. The screen pass had netted us about 20 more yards. We just had 31 to go. I looked behind me at the clock, which was winding down to 0:38. I looked at Coach Freddy, who held up a one and a half. I loved that play so much at Jefferson, I didn't even need to consult my wrist playbook.

"599 Tight DS." I yelled, signaling for everyone to run deep. I set up behind my center. "Down... set 180, Hutty-hut!" The ball was snapped into my hands and I dropped back. The problem was, the defense knew that we were going to run deep with all our receivers spread out like that and promptly responded with putting out seven defensive backs while taking out their three run stopping linebackers.

Bad for them as well. I don't mean to toot his horn, but Ricky was actually a pretty decent runner and could catch in pretty good coverage. When I knew that everybody was covered and the defensive backs were cleared out chasing after ghosts, I flicked the ball to him just as he was cutting back. He promptly took off to the right side of the formation, taking his huge, gigantic strides.

He powered through defenders, relying on blocks,trucks, and missed tackles, going hell for the leather for the endzone. He managed to get 30 yards before he was taken down in bounds by three defenders, just short one yard of the goal line. The crowd loved it, screaming their approval as we got within distance of actually scoring.

We were on fire and nothing could stop us, our four play drive taking us 70 yards to their one yard line. We were just under 36 inches away from securing victory. I looked at Coach Freddy as I took my sweet time walking to the formation, having beaten the clock, my worst enemy at the moment. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "SNEAK!" He yelled at me. "SNEAK!"

I didn't need to be told anymore than that. It was the most automatic play in our offensive playbook that involved me. It wasn't a pass. It was just me tucking the ball, lowering my shoulder, and shimmying my skinny, lanky frame into a narrow gap between the center and guard, gaining inch after bruising inch, me with a fullback's mentality.

My skinny 6 foot 3 inches and 200 pounds defied the stereotype of a traditional short yard running tank. I wasn't a Mike Alstott, Thomas Rawls, or John Kuhn, who bowled over defenders like nobody's business. What I did was have some good leg power, allowing me to get low and drive forward, manipulating my frame to gain decent leverage to follow my linemen. My body personally didn't like the beating it took, but coach sure as hell did upon seeing its success.

Too bad I was at Jefferson for three years. In such short yardage situations such as this, they knew what I was going to do. "He's going to sneak!" The linebacker screamed, lining up behind the nose guard as I positioned myself behind the center. "No, i'm not!" I yelled back. It was dumb for me to say that. They knew what I was going to run, and I probably confused my own guys. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, though. I took one last peek at the clock, which was winding down from 10 seconds.

"Tiger Sneak! Tiger Sneak!" I yelled to the formation, holding my arms out behind the center. "Down... set....... Set.... set.... Hutty-hut!" I took the ball from the center, tucking the ball and driving forward, powered by both my own legs and Viktor behind me, who was shoving me forward like a shopper on Black Friday. I grunted as I squeezed myself into the hole, driving forward and holding onto the ball as if my life depended on it.

I've done it so often that I knew where to go with it so I can pretty much get a yard or two every time. I fell forward and grunted as bodies fell on top of me, both defense and offense alike. "I got it... I got it... I scored." I said, in pain. Someone had his cleat up in my calf. I laid there while the referees pulled players off of me, looking for just a sliver of evidence that I didn't make it to turn the game away from our favor. Ok, maybe they weren't that biased, but there were a few questionable blown calls earlier in the game and the umpire did call me a 'monster lover'.

"Touchdown!" The referee said upon seeing me clutching the ball. He held his hands up, signaling that I made it, the crowd cheering at our victory, just as the clock reached zero. Ricky helped me up, yelling something in my ear that I couldn't register. I ripped off my helmet, holding it up and cheering, quickly hobbling back to the sideline with a gleeful grin plastered on my face. I loved winning. I loved winning more than I hated losing.

Usually when the football team wins, the crowd is allowed to come onto the field to celebrate with the players. This was curtailed in the past few years because some people got hurt on the way down, but the undermanned police acting as security wasn't going to be able to stop over 1,000 monster people from storming the field. As a result, they had a system in place of family and close friends of players being given access to the field a couple minutes before everyone else. Stasi was always the first one on the field, no matter whether we won or lost.

By the time we finished shaking hands with the other team, a beautiful blur with raven hair and a white jersey with #14 emblazoned on it was running to meet me halfway to the sideline, our families and friends not far behind. My breath was knocked out of me when Stasi hugged me, touching a few bruises. My game wasn't perfect. I was dinged up and bruised. I knew I was going to feel it come Saturday morning.

She looked up at me and grinned. "You were great. That QB Sneak up the gut looked awesome." She gushed. I wrapped my arms around her, looking at her in the eyes. "Only because I knew you were watching me, Stasi." I replied. She laughed, before wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. Right in front of the entire student body, our families, and our close friends. "Oh my goodness!" My mom gasped, as the cameraman for the SF Gate newspaper snapped pictures of the two of us kissing, the flash bathing us in light as the stadium roared their approval at the two of us, a player and what appeared to be his girlfriend kissing.

I broke the kiss, staring at Stasi in wonder. She gave me a look, holding onto my hand as I turned to our parents. My mom and Yulia were holding onto each other like little school girls, bouncing on their heels. "Mama, Papa, meet my boyfriend." Stasi said, confidently. I nearly died because it sounded so good. As soon as Stasi said it, Anton wrapped me in a hug, yelling in delight.

We found ourselves unable to cling to each other, but still relatively close. Everything passed in a blur, with both of her parents expressing their congratulations. Anton was like an excitable bear, hugging onto me and nearly breaking my back (even though I had my pads on). Finally, Yulia embraced me in a hug, her jersey (Viktor's away) rubbing on mine. "You have no idea how long we were waiting for this." She whispered. She was replaced by Anton once again, who was hugging me again tightly. It wasn't until Yulia dragged him away, him proclaiming to the men and women in suits that I was dating his daughter, reaching them and dragging them over to meet me, an exasperated Yulia in tow.

"Christopher, Christopher, Anastasia!" He called over Stasi who was talking with Jazz. "Come, quick! This here is Vasilli Tarshenko. He is part of the Coven here at San Francisco, one of the elders, da. Him and a few other members of the Coven came to watch you play." I stuck out my hand, shaking the hand of Tarshenko. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." He nodded at me and shook hands with Stasi.

So that's where I saw him, in one of the newspapers that Anton hangs in his study. It was a picture of Vasilli Tarshenko winning the election to become the next Elder in the Coven. I don't know why there was such a high demographic of Russians in the Coven, but that's just the way it was, I guess. He looked different from his picture. That Tarshenko was strong, powerful.

This Tarshenko looked unassuming, just a regular old guy, balding and glasses. The only sense of something different was when he smiled at me, revealing his fangs. "Vasilli, please. So this is the young man who transferred schools to be with his friends. You're a brave young man for standing up for what you believe in, something that can't be said for the rest of the country."

"You're even braver to be dating a vampire. They have an attitude about them." He smiled at Stasi, then back at me. "Then again, you are the quarterback who scrambled 73 yards with half the Jefferson team chasing you at the end of the first half. You're pretty fast." His English was refined, no hint of an accent given his Russian name.

I swelled with pride at the memory (and pain) of being buried under a mountain of maroon and black. "Thank you, sir. Is that the entire Coven right there?"

"No, that's only a few of us here." He laughed, while Stasi snorted at my mistake. "The size of the San Francisco Coven is in the hundreds, it's one of the largest in the country. I can't say that this isn't a score for us. I just wish more of us came. Imagine that, the monsters winning their first ever football game, against a human team, no less!" He clapped me on the shoulder.

"If you need anything, Christopher, Anastasia, do not hesitate to call us at the Coven. We always look after our own." Smiling, he left us, talking with Anton and Yulia, giving me the chance to finally talk to my parents who were patiently waiting off to the side. While he walked away, I heard him say my name once or twice, but my attention was shifted back to my parents.

My dad shook my hand, giving me a hug while my mother talked with Stasi. "Proud of you, son." He said. His way of saying congratulations was more conserved and understated. So little, yet so much. "Thanks, dad." I said, before giving him another hug.

My parents went to switch off after my mom gave Stasi another tight hug, her daughter that she never had, and my dad went to go talk to her with my mom coming to go talk to me. "I'm so glad that you two found each other. You couldn't have picked a better girl, Chris." She whispered into my ear over the din of the crowd. She gave me a big kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, mom." I mumbled, sheepishly. She gave me another kiss on the other cheek before going back to start talking with Stasi, no doubt to grill her on how long this has been going on. I was left standing there on my own, looking around at everyone else. Viktor was hugging Yulia and Anton, who expressed how proud they were of him. Over the shoulder of his mom, he caught eye contact with me, winking and smiling his approval.

But Elena was nowhere to be seen.

I looked around. I saw her earlier in the stands sitting with Stasi and a group of her friends. I turned around once more, where I was promptly met with a blonde ball of energy giving me a hug. "I'm so happy for the two of you!" She gushed, looking up at me with her expressive green eyes. "My werecat friend is going to be so heartbroken." Her attitude changed and she punched me in the arm. "You need to work on your sneaking about, by the way."

I was confused. "Wait... what? We scored on that sneak."

She continued on, with an eye roll. "Not that sneak, although, that was pretty cool. I'm talking about you sneaking around with Stasi. I saw you two on the front porch. Mom told me to call you guys in for dinner and I caught you two kissing! On the front porch! Right in front of the window! Real smooth, Chris!" She said, giving me another punch on the arm. "You better take care of my older sister or i'm burning down your house."

Somehow, I didn't doubt that. Before I could say "I will", I was mobbed by my friends.

My friends were just as excited, Ricky jumping up and down and screaming like a maniac, picking up Elena and putting her on his shoulders. Jasmine was hugging Stasi, proclaiming how happy she was for her, but above all else, after I gave Lucy a hug, she pulled my head down to her ear.

"One day, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But one day, you're going to tell me everything, and I mean everything."

Chapter 7:

Freshly showered and changed into a pair of basketball shorts with no shirt, I tiredly plopped on my bed spread eagle, accidentally hitting Stasi's face with the back of my hand. "Ouch!" She said, sitting up and rubbing at her eye furiously. I looked up. "Oh, damn! I'm so sorry, Stasi. Are you alright?" She gave me an exasperated look before turning back to the TV, where my XBox was running. "Yeah, i'm fine." She sighed. "Just watch where you put your hands."

We were at my house. After the game, everyone (including Jazz, Ricky, Lucy, their families, and my family) was invited to the Sokolov household for dinner. It was tradition that we usually eat some good food at someone's house after a win at home. I was starving and it felt good to pig out on Yulia's amazing cooking for once, instead of watching what I ate meticulously the week before the game.

After dinner, me and Stasi asked to be excused to go back to my house since I was starting to nod off and get my post-game soreness at the dinner table. The Hurry-Up offense of Coach Freddy was beginning to catch up to me. Met with raised eyebrows, mischievous looks, and open mouths, our parents unanimously agreed to let us go, seeing that I was fairly tired and my parents didn't trust me to drive home all by myself. Heck, my parents probably trusted Stasi more than me.

Stasi had already changed into bed clothing, wearing her black yoga shorts that she wore under her outfit at the game, which, much to my delight, accentuated her cute butt and a regular white T-Shirt that I loaned her. My white away jersey was carefully folded on my desk. My blue home jersey was in my growing pile of dirty laundry. I liked what she was wearing and I found my eyes wandering heavily. It was convenient that such interesting stuff was her general direction so I had an excuse to gawk.

The bed squeaked as I shifted myself into a more comfortable position, leaning up against Stasi, who was stroking my hair. She set the controller to the XBox aside, putting her face next to mine. "Are you tired?" She whispered into my ear. Even though my eyes were beginning to droop, I couldn't help but shiver when her hot breath touched my ear. "No." I replied. "Good, because while you were showering, I had a thought."

"Hm? What were you thinking?"

"Yeah... I think my boyfriend should stay awake to be rewarded for the way he played tonight."

I stared at her wide eyed, gazing at her for a minute, not quite sure how respond. She always had this incredible sexy determined attitude where she subtly strived at whatever she wanted, never letting anything stop her. I found it appealing and refreshing. I squinted my eyes and scratched at my head.