My Story

This is one of my six stories that I am currently writing. It's pretty short so far, and I don't really have a name for it yet. But, still. Enjoy, and feel free to comment.


Chapter One - Bad Boys




In the ghettos of sunny L.A. the nights are especially dangerous. Gangs run the streets like flies. Every night in search of some poor sap to tease, beat, or other worse things that I prefer not to say, and worst of all, I hear they kill people too.
I’m a small five-foot four sixteen year old, and I play rugby. My name is Riley Henderson. Even though I’m small for my age, my strength sure makes up for my size. Yeah, I know most rugby players are pretty strong, but I’m talking ‘Mr. Incredible’ strong. Well almost. I could pick up a guy five times my size, only using my fist, and gripping his shirt, then chuck him across a football field(if only men that big existed otherwise I’d go for elephants). It’s a strange gift I have. And when I was six, my parents found out about that(my little sister doesn’t know about it), and thought I should make use of it since this place isn’t the safest place to live. So I stayed with tae kwon do until I was finally a black belt, then quit cuz I got bored of beating everybody.
Tonight, mom needed some milk, and I was just walking home. Eight burly men spotted me, and zeroed in. I rolled my eyes in annoyance.
“What do you want tonight boys? I don’t have all night. I only play rugby, and nothin’ else.” I said.
“You think this is a game Riley?” One of the guys said.
“I’ll call it what ever you want to call it.” I said. Wondering how he knew my name. Oh right! My rugby jacket had my name on it. Darn it!
“Come on boys.” One of the biggest said. “Lets get ‘em.” I suspected he was the leader, and smelled alcohol on his breath. The boys were armed with switchblades and bad tempers.
Now, this happens to me often. I figure it as a play-by-play. I have the whole scene set out in my mind no matter what happens: The boys come at me, I get them all pumped up with my irritating jokes, act all scared when they come at me, try to consult with them to not attack me, then release my wrath.
The circle that they formed around me started to close in. I acted scared, put panic in my eyes, set down the milk—I even let out a tear and a few whimpers. Something I don’t do often—then let out my last words.
“Please, no no no! I-I-I’ll give you anything you want, just don’t hurt me.” I crouched down into a little ball(but still on my feet), with my hands behind my head, then lashed up, and gave a round-house kick to one guy, another to the crotch, a few punches in stomachs, and some upper-cuts. But our fight was cut short by the sound of sirens coming fast. Everybody scatters like birds, except me. I stick my hands in my jacket pockets, and walk casually towards the direction of my home. I look back as the police rounds the corner. The blaring red and blue lights bug my eyes. I look back forward. He pulls up beside me.
“Sorry, kid, did you see any fights around here?”
“Yes sir. I was walking home from the grocery store,” I hold up my Allen’s bag with a gallon of milk, “and saw a bunch of big guys around this little kid. They had switchblades, and looked pretty mad. So I made myself invisible to them while they fought. As soon as they heard your sirens, they all scattered like birds. They probably aren’t far from here. It wasn’t too long ago.”
“Thanks kid. Run along home now before any other fights begin.” He said.
I started off in a jog to my house as the sheriff’s car pulled a u-ey (after all, he did say to ‘run along home’), and he used his spotlight to search corners. It always works, and it always happens. Never been caught, never will. I opened my front door, and locked it behind me. Dad was watching sports in the theatre downstairs as always, and mom was in our gourmet kitchen cooking. Something she loved to do, other than scrapbook about trips to Las Vegas, Seattle, Tahiti, and all our other vacation spots. We are actually a pretty rich family. We live just outside the ghettos, and into where the rich people live.
I put the milk in the fridge, and shut the door, then put the plastic bag in our recycling bin. Mom likes to recycle. She looked at my leg.
“Riley Martial, have you been in another fight?” She asked, grabbing a washcloth.
“Uh, no.” I looked down to see what she saw. My leg had a large scratch in it that was bleeding. How did that get there? I thought. So I hopped up onto the counter so she could tend to it. “Oh, that. I uh, accidentally tripped over a bike parked near the entrance of the store.” She started to dab at the wound.
“Don’t lie to me Riley. I know very well what happened to you.” Mom didn’t especially like it when I got in fights, simply because the police are often involved. And that usually means bad business. “You didn’t get caught, did you?”
“Of course not, mom.” Mom was taller than me. She’s five eight (yet she still hopes I’ll out-grow her), blonde, and skinny. She’s actually a beautiful woman. If I were older, and not her son, I would be drooling all over her. But she’s my mom, and that’d be weird if I did that.(You could imagine her as Sandra Bullock on The Blind Side. Without the accent.) She grabbed a big band aid from the medicine cupboard, and stuck it on.
“There you go.” She kissed it. “All better.”
“Thanks mom.”
“Your welcome. Now go and get washed up for dinner.”
I got dads bronze red hair, and moms bright green eyes. I do my hair in a way, that the girls at high school go all googley-eyed over me, because they say I have “Edward Cullen” hair. Who ever the heck that is.
I go upstairs to my bathroom and wash my hands, then fixed my hair. I made my way to my bedroom across the hall when my little sister Camille bumped into me with her hands full of her naked Barbie’s. It was a bit creepy.
“Oh, sorry Riles.” She gave me an innocent smile.
“Where you headed Camille?”
“Yasmin, Jade, Chloe, Sasha, and Dillon are going swimming.” She said with a gleam in her eyes.
“Well dinner’s going to be ready on the table in about two minutes. So go put your Barbie’s down and get washed up.” She put on a grumpy face.
“They aren’t Barbie’s! They’re Bratz!”
“Whatever.” She stormed off. Camille is six and again small for her age. She got moms blonde hair, times two, and dads blue eyes. I took off my jacket and shirt, then put on my volcome shirt.
“Riley, will you set the table?” Mom asked when I got downstairs.
“Yeah.” I got out four plates, cups, forks, spoons, knives, and everything we needed, then set them on the eating table. We have a pre-set dining table, but we save that for special occasions like Thanksgiving and Christmas. She handed me a pot, and I set it on the table, then a carton, and a pan.
I pushed the button on the intercom that sounded throughout the whole house. “Dinner’s ready and on the table. If you want it, come and get it.” That usually got anybody. Even Camille’s little friends that came over so often and are attached to their Barbie’s. I’m surprised they’re not ever tonight. We all sat down at the table, and dad began the short prayer we say.
“Thank you father for this lovely food that Stephanie has prepared for us. We ask thee to bless it, amen.” Dad said, and we all said in unison a hearty ‘amen’, and began eating our mashed potatoes, steak, and broccoli. Most kids don’t like broccoli, but I like it. Roasted or fresh with ranch, anyway it is I like it. We finished up, and Camille and Mom put away the dishes and food. We take turns every other night. One night it’s the boy’s turn to set the table (but dad says that nothing can interfere with his sports so he rarely does it), then the girls turn to set, and boy’s to pick up. It’s pretty simple.
I took the stairs down to the exercise room, put on some Black Eye’d Peas, and set up the treadmill for my five mile run. I do sit-ups, push-ups, bench press, dumb bell weights, and treadmill. They’re like feathers to me, so I don’t usually do them, but we have them for dad and the others. The treadmill is what I like most.—Camille has this thing where I use her as a bench press except I’m standing up, and she’s the weights. She lays straight as a bone, and I lift her to work out. She likes it—I set the fan to low, and the heat to high so that I get the real feel of running outdoors since it’s not so safe outside. I start my run.


Chapter 2 - Release




The Endeavourers’ Rugby team, has a captain. Blake Coast. Yeah, you thought I was going to say Riley Henderson. But no. I am that Blake Coast, but Riley is my best friend. He’s a cool guy. And I personally don’t know why they won’t let him be the captain, he’s better than me, and yet Coach Adamson doesn’t notice. He blew the whistle and we all drop down and give him push-ups. I look over at Riley, and he’s showing off like always. He touches his nose to the ground and back up. I wish I were as strong as him. Coach blows the whistle again.
“Alright lets do the circle!” He yells. Coach puts Tony Reiter in the middle of the circle, and we all pass the ball to him as he passes them to others. Tony is a big Tongan kid with dreadlocks. He’s our other best friend.
“Next game boys!” Coach calls after a while. The other game we have is we hop on each others back and blind fold the person that’s running, then the person on top guides them through out the couples running. Coach likes the biggest on top. Riley always gets Tony. I always get Colton. Colton Eidy (eat-e) is tall with dirty blonde spiky hair. We run through out the obstacle of the other players and Colton guides me. Coach blows his whistle and we switch. Colton on bottom, me on top. After a while, coach blows the whistle again.
“Let’s bring it in!” All the players form a circle around coach and we run in place while he speaks to us.

“What is rugby about?!” Coach yells, holding his clipboard.
“CHARACTER!” the team yells in unison.
“Is it just about winning?”
“No coach!”
“About the workout?”
“No coach!”
“And what about the fun.”
“No coach!”
“Do we drink, or smoke?!”
"No coach!"
“Who are we?”
“Endeavor Rugby!”
“Alright, break!” We all stop and breathe, then take a walk to the locker rooms to shower, change, and cool off. After about ten minutes, coach comes in and calls for our attention. “I want to talk to ya’ll about assignments.” He said fingering at one of the flaps of the manila envelopes. “Reiter! Number two hook.” The team clapped for him, and he retrieved the envelope. “Eidy! Number eight, wing…” He called everybody else’s numbers and names until he was down to two people. “And I’d like to assign Henderson as Captain of the team!” A few of the boys slapped his back with a few, ‘Alright, Riley!’ Confusion washed over me. “And as for Coast, we are sad to say that, we have to release him from position as captain, and from the team.”
“What?! Coach, what did I do?!”
“Come with me, Blake.” I hopped up from the bench and followed coach to his office.
“Blake, is there something you’d like to confess, before I tell you exactly what you did?” Coach said with eyes that were all but friendly.
I sighed. “No coach.”
“Are you sure?” He asked. I nodded.
“Son, ever since I heard your parents got in a divorce, you’ve been getting in trouble with the police. You’ve been getting in fights, and it sounds like things are getting pretty bad for you. I feel that it’s right to release you from the team for now, only because you would have personal reasons.” He took a breath. “And you finished school with three ‘F’s’.”
“Look coach. You don’t understand what’s going on in my life.” I said trying to make a point. “My father dragged me with him when they got in a divorce. I had no choice, and he threatened to kill me if I went to live with my mom. Rugby is the only chance I get to get away from my dad. A chance to let out my anger on the ball. And when I’m not in rugby, and my dad gets going, I take a walk, then end up in a fight. I’m sorry coach. I guess I’m not right for the team.” I stand up, and storm out, slamming the door. I grab my bag from the locker room with out saying a word, and walk out.
“Dude, Blake!” Riley calls after me. “What the heck is wrong?” I turn around and face him.
“Coach doesn’t think I’m a good influence on the team, only because he heard about the divorce and all the fights I get in, then ending up in trouble with the police. Riley, coach knows what’s right. So I guess I’m not good for rugby.”
“Dude, I get in fights.”
“Yeah, but you never get caught.”
“That’s because I have strategy, and I know what I’m doing.”
“Whatever, jerk!” I run off to the main road and hail a taxi for home.



Chapter 3 - The Pond




“How was practice?” Dad said.
“Good.”
“Anything new?” He asked, eyes trained on the screen.
“I got assigned as captain.”
“Really? It’s about time.—Oh! Come on! He was right there!” He yelled at the screen. “Why didn’t he catch it. Stupid idiot.—Anything else Riles?”
“Uh.” My thoughts roamed to Blake. Better not tell him. “No not really.” We heard a knock at the door.
“Riley, Blake is here.” Mom said.
“Oh, tell him to come down here.” I say to her. “So who’s winning?” I ask dad.
“We are. Forty-one to eighteen.”
“Pretty good…Are these re-runs?” I say. We support the Lakers.
“Yep. So how are you doing in school?”
“Dad, it’s in the middle of the summer.”
“Right, right. Well—“ Blake walked in.
“Hey, Riley. Can you come with me?”
“Yeah. See you later dad.”
“Bye son. Be back before dinner.” Dad called after me. We hailed a taxi, and he took us up to the mountains.
“Sorry boys, but this is as far as I’m aloud to go.” Taxi driver said once we got to the bottom of a hill.
“That’s fine. We’ll walk from here.” He pays him and we get out.
“So where exactly are we going?” I ask as we jog up the familiar hill that our team often runs.
“You’ll see.” He says. After about twenty minutes of running up hill, he starts walking towards a break in the trees. “Let’s climb.” He said. It was actually pretty steep, but with compact dirt, and plenty of trees to hang onto. We start up the hill and It’s all alike for about ten minutes, then it levels out, and there’s a large pond with a bridge across made out of a fallen redwood. We cross it, and sit in the shade on a pile of rocks.
“When have I been here before?” I ask.
“When we were little. Your aunt used to take us up here, and we’d play in the stream forever.” He answered. I nodded my head in recognition. “Look I’m sorry for what I said back at the field. It was out of line I had no—“ I cut him off.
“You had every reason to be upset. It’s not your fault… I mean, I totally understand. The only thing you don’t have a right to, is apologizing. Well at least for this situation.”
“Thanks Ri-guy.” Ri-guy was a nickname they gave me a while back, a bit sissy, but they like it, so I let it go. We sit there watching the water flow past. I lean over to him.
“You should jump in.” He looks at me.
“I’m good.” Most ponds are caked in moss at the bottom, but this one strangely isn’t. Don’t ask me how.
“No go ahead. I will after you.”
“No.”
“Come on.” I smile and give him a friendly shove in. He makes a funny laugh as he almost belly flops on the water. First I strip off my shirt, then take the rope swing that dad tied to one of the tree’s and cannon ball in—making a laugh similar to his—splashing him. We laugh, and splash each other some more, then try to dunk, and have plain old fun like we used to. We went off the swing a few times, and did all sorts of tricks. We were treading some water in the middle when I dunked him again, but he didn’t come back up.
“Oh boy. Blake!” I look around in the water, then go under and search for him there. The deepest this lake goes is only about ten feet, so I didn’t have to search far before my ears popped. I grabbed him, and pulled him up, then dragged him to shore. He was unconscious. He must have hit his head on a rock, when I pushed him down with so much force. I often forget about how strong I am. I listen for breathing, and start giving CPR. I try not to crack his ribs. “Come on, come on Blake. Come back to me.” I mumble to myself, listening for breath. He coughs up water, and spits it out. “There we go. You alright?” I ask.
“I don’t know. What happened?”
“I think I dunked you too many times, and then I pushed you down with too much force, and you probably hit your head on the rocks. At least that’s what I think.”
“Hmm.” He coughs again.
“Shall we go?” I ask.
“Yeah. Dad’s probably freakin’ out about where I am right now.”
“Alright.” We get our stuff, and head back home.

“Where’d you boys go?” Mom asked when I walked in the door. She was working on her laptop in the office.
“To the pond.” I say.
“You haven’t been there in a long time. Did you guys have fun?”
“Of course.”
“That’s good. There’s a protein shake in the fridge.”
“Oh, thanks.” The protein shakes that mom makes are pretty good. But any others were just GAG! I look in the fridge and the shake sits there with saran-wrap clinging to it’s sides. I peel it off, and down it. Mom says that I’m not supposed to guzzle it, but I don’t really care, because I’m parched.
“Riley, Riley, Riley!” Camille comes in and starts tugging at my shorts. “Come watch this!” She drags me upstairs and into her room. She has two pieces of paper poorly cut into goalie posts, that flopped over, on either side of her room. “Watch this! They’re playing rugby!” She takes her doll and makes it kick the piece of crumpled paper halfway to the goal, she then takes another doll and kicks it the rest of the way. She throws her hands up in the air and cheers, “Yay! One point for the Endev-ev-ev-evers!” She struggled.
“Yeah, that’s fantastic Camille. I’d stay and play, but I’ve got homework.”
“It’s in the middle of the summer Riley. You can’t have homework!”
“But guess what. I do.” I poke the tip of her nose. “I have to retake a class on the Internet. Because I didn’t pass.” I lie. If I didn’t pass, I’d be kicked off the team… Like Blake. Poor guy. His dad’s probably going to beat him for that. He was actually a really big rugby player. And he always went to Blake’s games…but he usually cheered for the other players or the other team. “See you later Camille.”
“Riley, you’re rude!” She yells as I walk out.


July


August




Chapter 5 - End of Summer Party




The phone rang five times before I had to get it. Nobody was home, but me, and I was running it out on the treadmill.
“Riley? Is that you?” Tony asks.
“Yeah, who else would it be?” I say.
“I don’t know, maybe your dad…But hey, listen. Colton and I are putting on a huge party. Gonna be tons of people here. It’s sorta like a last thing for summer, you know. But, hey, it’s going to be tonight at six, and it’s gonna go till ten. Can you come?”
“Uh.” I scan through my schedule in my head. “I should be able to. I’ll have to ask mom when she gets home.”
“Alright. Text me when you know, kay?”
“Yeah, man.” Click. He hung up, and I shut off the treadmill, then took a long cool shower. I did my hair, dressed in my light jeans, white t-shirt, button up shirt over that, everything un-tucked, and a belt. Mom told me that the ladies like that. Not that there will be any ladies to impress at Tony’s party.
Five thirty rolls around, and the family still isn’t home. I grab my iphone, and call them.
“Hey sweetie. What’s up?” Mom asks.
“Tony is having a party and want me to come over at six. Can I go?”
“Well…” I hear her breathing in the phone… “I guess so. But you better not do anything that you know you shouldn’t.”
“I know mom.”
“Okay, I love you.”
“Love you too, mom. Bye.”

Rugby season is over, and school is starting. Life should be able to kill me now, if only it were strong enough. I’m beginning my junior year at the high school, and it’s the first day of school. I’ve always dreaded school, mostly because all the work and boredom.
I had just gotten my schedule last week, and was surprised about how...
Un-terrible my schedule was.

-P.E. with coach Dawes
-Theatre with Mrs. Jaydee (I take it for the ladies. But there aren’t any good ones, so I just do it for mom’s sake)
- Algebra 2 with Mrs. Eidy (Yes Colton’s mom)
- Foods with Mrs. Pike
- Biology with Mr. Maldena
- Italian 3 with Mr. Jokes (That’s really his last name. And he is really funny)
- Geography with Mr. Xanders

The only reason why, is I have an elective and required class every other period. Pretty well stretched out.
I walk to school, and pick up Blake while I’m at it. Just something we do.
“You ready man?” I ask when he opens the door.
“Yeah. Let’s go. Bye dad. Be back after school.”




THIS STORY IS NOT TO BE COPIED, ADDED TO, PUBLISHED IN ANY WAY OTHER THAN THE AUTHORS CHOICE! DO NOT! I REPEAT, DO NOT! COPY AND/OR BE USED FOR ANYTHING ELSE!