Multiplayer by John C. Brewer Page B

to go. As exciting a game as could be wished for, and he was sentenced to watch this crap.
    “You’re pretty good,” said a voice, and Hector spun around. The blonde-haired girl was standing there with the sun shining behind her. He noticed, then, that only the top layer of her hair was blond and that the layers underneath were jet black. “You should play on a team.”
    “Too much travel,” Hector stammered, shielding his eyes from the light and thinking that her hair, while a little weird, was kind of… nice.
    “But you’re here.”
    He nodded. “Yeah, I noticed.”
    “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
    Now he really felt uncomfortable. “Should I?”
    She sat down next to him on the grass and smiled, sending a little tingle through Hector’s gut. He’d remember that smile if he’d ever seen it. And the hair. And the eyes which were deep brown and bottomless. “I’m in your math class,” she said, and Hector wracked his brain. “And your history class.” He squirmed with embarrassment and felt beads of sweat break out on his back. “And your English class.”
    “I’m really sorry,” he finally admitted, feeling ten times a fool, but he had never seen this girl. “I haven’t been here that long …” he shrugged. “It’s my first year.”
    “Sabrah Moody?” she said, seeming a little embarrassed.
    “Sabrah!” he exclaimed, and thought to himself, Sabrah didn’t look this good. At least not the Sabrah he’d seen at school. “I didn’t recognize you without- without the uh –”
    “Makeup?”
    “And earrings, and… Yeah. And, your hair. It’s –”
    “Blonde!” she laughed again. “It’s closer to my natural color anyway.”
    “I like it,” he said, strangely warm inside. “Especially the dark, underneath. Very –” He wanted to say sexy but came up instead with, “chic. So what are you doing here?”
    “My little sister plays on your little sister’s team.”
    “I’ve never seen you at any of the games.”
    “You haven’t been to any of the games.”
    Hector thought for a moment and a pang of guilt touched him. “I guess you’re right.”
    “So how’s algebra?” she asked quickly. “That test was pretty tough. I only got a ninety-two.”
    Only a ninety-two, thought Hector dejectedly, and decided to just lay it out there. “I’m flunking.”
    “What?” She seemed genuinely surprised. “But you’re smart. And it’s not that hard.”
    He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
    “Of course it matters, Hector. If I were flunking, I’d die.”
    “I’ll probably just wind up getting killed like my dad, anyway.”
    He heard her quick intake of breath and she didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she said quietly, “I heard your dad got killed in Iraq.”
    He nodded woodenly. “And I’m going into the Army like him so I’ll probably get killed too.”
    “You don’t have to go into the Army. You could do something else.”
    “What else is there?” Hector answered, realizing he didn’t even know what else he might do. He’d never thought about it. “You know what they say, ‘like father like son.’”
    “I don’t want to be anything like my dad,” she said quietly. Hector looked quickly over at her and saw that her head was hanging down with sheets of silver and black hair framing her ivory face like a manga drawing. “I hate him.”
    This was inconceivable to Hector. “How could you hate your dad? My dad was the coolest person I’ve ever known.”
    “My parents are divorced,” she said reluctantly, picking at blades of grass. “Do we have to talk about this?”
    “You brought it up.”
    “Well, I wish I hadn’t.”
    On the field, one of the girls on the other team caught a ball in her own penalty box and she wasn’t the goalie. A few parents laughed, a few screamed angrily, as the referee blew his whistle and awarded a penalty kick. Sabrah’s sister Caitlynn scored, giving their team the lead. All the little girls jumped up and