New Place, New Life - Chapter 2: part 1
Previously
Samy was rather early. His friends always said he had a tendency to be late, so for him to be early was a rare sight, but this wasn't true at all. In fact, a week out of two, Samy was early - and the other week, he was either on time or late. This is how it was.
That day was the first of the Early Week. He had run to the Forum and climbed upstairs, where he kept some of his stuff. And there he was, hitting the ball repeatedly against the wall of a shop that'd never see the light of day. The ball ended up escaping, as it always ended up doing. The next challenge was to catch it before it got lost somewhere in this maze.
And so he saw him. A grown-up. Not quite an adult, but grown-up nonetheless.
His blood had shot up to the brain of an already tense Samy. The week that was starting already promised to suck, but now this guy was playing with his ball.
Still, soon enough Samy had realized the grown-up in question was a player. And a player's personality and intents could be found out through the game. Be him friend or foe, intruder or guest, he'd soon be sure what to believe.
The challenge was given, the game had started - and Samy was having fun. He had actual fun. In a different way than he did playing with his team, but this was just as powerful, his smile out of control, his lungs screaming and his heart whistling from the effort. Never had he played against such an opponent. Never would he have believed a grown-up could have such dexterity or move with such... ease.
Samy surprised him, he slipped and let the ball fly to the goal, hitting without mercy the graff "loser" that Genna had added one day.
Immersed in his joy and satisfaction from winning, Samy almost missed the pained frowned the other put on. He was holding his head - the shock must have been quite something. Soon, though, he let it go and harshly rubbed the side of his leg. The strength he put to do that was considerable, Samy could see how tense his arms' muscles were. It hurt just to look.
Still gasping for air, Samy helped him get up. He had a reassuring word (of which Samy believed exactly nothing) about his injury and complimented his technique. His hand, as large as his father's, found the top of Samy's head and tried to seed disorder in the carefully sprayed blonde curls.
After putting everything back in place and muttering under his breath about how long it took him to set everything, Samy had the idea of the century.
"Say," he said, "can you be our coach?"
The grown-up didn't look too against the idea but not convinced either. Samy decided right there: he'd get him in his team no matter what. He gave his name and quickly presented his team, before asking the question back. After all, Samy was quite curious about this guy: he knew anyone who got close, even from afar, to street football, in this city, and he had never seen him. If he'd just gotten here, then Samy had stricken gold by meeting him first. He couldn't stay in place, filled with excitement.
"I'm Tag," the other answered, laconic.
Samy blinked. Now that was a very familiar name in their field.
"Just like the first World Champion, four years ago!"
"Exactly," retorted 'Tag' with a wink.
What did he mean by that? Had he nicknamed himself after The Tag, or was he said Tag? Samy's heart had never beaten so fast. He raised greedy, hungry eyes toward 'Tag'.
Before their challenge, he was wearing a bandana, which was holding his wild hair back from his face, but he has since taken it off. This dark, thick mass, green eyes, darker skin, the shape of his nose... Samy had all the stars in the galaxy in his eyes. He couldn't believe he had not recognized his idol at first glance. When he was little, he had found a picture of the Bleus of Port-Marie, had enlarged it and printed it - to his father's great displeasure, since he complained anytime someone printed big quantities of colors. He had taped it above his bed. They had given him strength, all these years, motivation, and courage.
His heart kept beating as hard as it could. His hands were trembling a little.
"The..." he kept his voice from cracking, "the actual Tag?"
The smile he got back was answer enough.
"You mean I beat the Tag in a challenge?!"
"You did but don't let it go to your head."
He gently tapped his shoulder, and Samy gave as much as he got.
It wasn't like Tag had disappeared from the international scene, but to see these foreign matches, and even the world cups, was a challenge in itself: they were never easily accessible, and the quality was more often than not pretty poor. Knowing Tag was on the field was one thing, recognizing him in real life from a four years old poster was an entirely other thing.
"I thought you were in America! When d'ya get back?"
"Early July. My dad got a job transfer."
"Harsh..."
One thing Samy hated was to go from house to house. He kicked a plaster piece that had fallen from a wall.
"And hm, you don't have a team yet, do you?"
"Nah."
They were going down an escalator, the last one that lead to the base floor, from where they had begun their race. Tag got his jacket back and tied it around his hips. He picked his ball back up. He had guessed that he wouldn't play anymore that day. His jaw was tense, but he tried not to show it to this kid that looked at him like he once looked at his brothers from the Roller Team. Or how Lil Dragon used to look at him, back then. His heart clenched. He really had to keep a good figure.
"That's why I'm here today. Gotta see how things are around here regarding street football."
"Oh, well, there're many teams! You'll see, it's pretty great. You'll meet everyone later. We always meet on the steps, at the Forum's entrance. They shouldn't be long, now," Samy said after checking his wristwatch.
They got to the steps and, once they were sitting down, Samy decided to tell him everything he knew about this shopping center he called The Forum. This was bound to get confusing because the only "forum" in the street football world that Tag had known so far was the one moderated by the Sharks themselves. Tag put his bandana back in his hair. The wind kept playing with it and this was rather annoying to always have to keep it all in check. The bandana didn't solve everything but this was still leagues better.
Now free from his capillary issues, Tag enjoyed listening to the boy's explanation. Even if he had read some stuff online, this didn't compare to - and was a lot less fun than - listening to Samy's version, featuring all the town's gossip and various ramblings.
Soon, steps approached from behind. Samy, engrossed in his explanation, didn't pay it any mind.
"Wow, Samy!" said a voice. "You came with your nanny, today?"
Right in front of Tag, Samy froze. A strange mix of emotions flashed across his face, to let only a deep frown and a clenched jaw in its wake. Tag turned toward the top of the stairs, from where the voice had come.
There stood a boy, maybe a bit older than his very new friend. Thin as a bean, he proudly wore a purple crest and a whole leather ensemble.
Between Samy's elbow pads and the newcomer's shin guards, Tag had never seen street football players in so much protection. He wouldn't go as far as calling the new generation wimps, especially given his race with Samy, but this sure got to the tip of his tongue...
Next
