#insertblankwood

My Girl

It was for the championship, the state title, for all the metaphorical marbles, and once again, Rooster Teeth University, the fighting Spartans, was against Achievement City University, the Green Hunters, in the final match up. The fierce rivalry between the two schools was the stuff of legend. No matter the sport the sought to best each other every time. And the school that held the most wins against the other at the end of the year won the coveted gold tower, dubbed the Tower of Pimps by the students of both schools. Earning the gold tower was accompanied by a campus wide, unofficially sanctioned party. This year, the two schools were tied up and the next match on the line was the Tennis tournament. No one could have predicted that tennis would tip the balance.

It was Burnie Burns of Rooster Teeth versus Ryan Haywood of Achievement City. Burnie Burns was nicknamed Church for his devotion to the sport, practicing every day, skipping on parties, and sometimes his classes, all in effort better himself. Ryan Haywood was dubbed the Mad King after one photograph; it was an action shot that caught him mid smirk, quite the devious one at that, and the sun, almost picturesque, was rising behind him and it shined against his sandy locks and a jagged golden crown could almost be seen.

Not only were the boys playing, the women were too. It was Meg Turney, the Neon Cat, of Rooster Teeth playing against Lindsay Tuggey, Ruby, of Achievement City. The Neon Cat came from the rather vibrant colored clothes she wore during her matches and the cat like grace she had on the field, making soaring leaps only to land back on her feet. Lindsay Tuggey was nicknamed Ruby because of her signature deep red sneakers; she called them her lucky shoes.

“You got this, Ruby, put this kitten in her place,” Ryan patted Lindsay on the back, eyeing Meg Turney. She had on a bright pink sun visor worthy of her nickname.

“Hey!” Meg shouted, “I’ll have you know that this cat has claws. Hope the little gem can handle the court.”

“Oh, you know why these shoes are red? Because they are stained with the blood of my opponents after I wipe the court with them,” Lindsay sniped back. She stood up and leaned back, hands on her hips, waiting for the satisfying moment when her back stretched just right.

“Oh is that why? I thought you stole those off some witch’s feet after a house fell on her.”

The official came over to the group. “Ladies? Are you ready?” she asked, looking at the two girls.

Those exchanges were common before any game. Football. Softball. Baseball. Volleyball. Whenever the teams squared off against each other there was always a volley of taunts and insults, nothing serious, always taken in stride.

Two yeps and a handshake later they were on the court, facing each other, Meg was the first one up to serve. She bounced the ball on the court and gave quick glance to Ryan out of the corner of her eye. He nodded at her and gave her a small smile, mouthing the words “good luck”.

“How’s Allison doing, Church?”

Allison was the best tennis player in the country, bar none. She went to Rooster Teeth University for a few years but left mid-season to join the pro circuit. That year Rooster Teeth had been projected to win the Tower but when Allison left, so did their hopes of stealing the tower.

Burnie snorted. “A lot better than Grif, at least her name is on the cover for winning championships and not for drunk and disorderlys.”

Geoff Ramsey, great tennis player, could probably go pro someday, that is if he managed to stay sober for longer than an hour. There was speculation that he played his best when drunk. He often paired with Jack Pattillo, The Beard (that one should really be self-explanatory) for doubles matches and two were consistently in the finals. The chemistry they had on the court could only be fueled by the history that the two had together, growing up and playing together since they were kids. There were three other players on the time that were quickly rising through the ranks, the Brit, Gavin Free, the man with power shot, Mr. Anger himself, Michael Jones, and the newest member, a short but built man, Jeremy Dooley, noted for his wicked trick shots he called Monster shots.

“Oh? And is the cheese master really that much better?”

Before Burnie could reply with a little snark of his own, Lindsay missed a low ball, and Meg won the game.

“Oh! That was close Lindsay! You got this!”

“Show her what you’re made of Meg!”

There were still several games to go for the first set.

As the girls volleyed on the court, the guys shared little snide comments and insults under the breath, ensuring that only the other could hear. No fan needed to know how far the rivalry between the schools went.

Really though, who should he cheer for. On the one hand, there was his school loyalty which was for Lindsay but his girlfriend was playing and well… he really enjoyed watching her play. Thank god being a tennis player meant that his face wasn’t plastered all over the school’s posters, if he had been a football player then he might’ve had a hard time going to watch her matches. He would wear her school colors and cheer her on.

“Aww, Meg! So, close there, so close.”

Ryan jerked his head up, glancing to Burnie. “Huh? What happened?”

“Man, if you wanna know, you gotta watch your girl play,” Burnie teased.

“Yeah, my girl,” Ryan groaned, dropping his head in his hands.

Which one of them was his girl? That was the issue. He couldn’t be seen publicly cheering Meg on, even though he hoped she’d win, school loyalty and all that. At any other match he could always claim that he was watching Meg to get a read on their school’s competition. Now- well he couldn’t really cheer her on. Not without some serious questions.

The whole secrecy surrounding their relationship was really starting to eat at him. It kept him from enjoying watching the game as he deliberated over who to cheer for. Whenever Meg made a great shot Ryan wanted to hoot and holler for her and when Lindsay scored Ryan was elated and ready for cheer. It was a close game and it had Ryan’s stomach in knots watching the two play against each other. For every power shot that Lindsay threw at her, Meg would hit back with another, her back hand had improved.

In the end though, the both played a good game but Meg’s was better. She won the state title and Ryan couldn’t be prouder for her. He was beaming at her as they passed, giving her a hearty handshake, nearly pulling her in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Congratulations, Meg, you played well today,” he said, resisting that urge.

“Thanks, Ryan, good luck against Burnie, but you know, the best player is gonna win.” She winked.

For all the insults the schools threw at each other, they were also their staunchest defenders and ready to accept that the other school had won.

Now it was his turn to play. Ryan stretched and practiced with a few warm up swings. Burnie across from him, on the opposite side of the court was doing the same.

The official gave them the go ahead and Ryan nodded.

It was time.

Ryan bounced the ball on the ground, eyeing Burnie up. He threw the ball in the air, eyes locked on the target, arm swinging. All the struggles and dilemmas that had plagued him during the women’s match left his mind. It was just him and the ball. And this- this was his court. This was where he reigned.

Whack

-

A few days after the tournament, on a short break at his parent’s house for the weekend, Ryan went to the local tennis courts for some easy practice. He started close to the back wall and just rhythmically smacked the ball against the wall, a simple one two one two, wall, racket, wall, racket. Once he was warmed up he moved back and started going at it harder.

“So how does it feel playing against a champion?” Meg sent the ball flying back to him.

“Well, why don’t you tell me?” He said, grinning at her, hitting the ball back to her with a gentle swing of his racket.

“Winner buys lunch today?” Meg asked, knocking the ball to the short, forcing Ryan to sprint to the net.

“You’re on.” He bopped the ball back over and it bounced and rolled.

Meg put her hands on her hips, indignant, “that one doesn’t count.”

Ryan snorted, “Alright, alright, your serve, kitty.”

“I thought I told you to call me Queen.”

“Of course, my queen, because you are my girl.”

Michael was bouncing, shaking his hands, checking and re-checking his bag to make sure everything was in place. He wasn’t nervous, though it might look that way to outsiders. He was ready to fight, to battle. His pokemon were levelled and trained up to the best of his ability, and he was itching to kick some ass in his first tournament.

He was certainly calmer than the girl in line behind him. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail that stuck out the back of the cap that was pulled low over her eyes, but even without seeing her eyes he could tell she was constantly looking around her from the way her head jerked from side to side. She was chewing on her bottom lip enough to redden it, which Michael definitely didn’t get slightly distracted by because he was fully concentrated on this tournament.

He might have been watching a bit too closely because she startled and turned her back to him.

The registration desk freed up, so he was saved from trying to awkwardly justify his attention. He stepped forward and gave his information to the person at the table, and the girl behind him did the same with the other volunteer next to him.

The registrars handed them their badges and directed them to the participant holding area. He walked next to the blonde girl, and thought she might have made a move to say hi or something, but he was getting in the zone, reviewing what he knew about the other trainers around him. He’d seen a few of them compete in other tournaments that he’d been a spectator at, but most of them were unknown to him. Not unexpected, Michael had chosen this tournament because it was far enough from his own home that the chances of someone recognizing him if he did horribly were slimmer. Not that he was going to do horribly, that is.

A bell rang over the speaker system, and a crackly voice said, “Attention. Registration is now closed. The tournament bracket will be posted on the announcement board in ten minutes. Thank you.”

Michael fought the urge to follow the crowd that gathered around the base of the board. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t recognize any of the names he’d be competing against in the amateur division, so all he needed to know was when and where his first battle would be.

The crowd thinned out and he wandered over to the left side, where the individual bracket was posted. He didn’t spot his name on a quick glance, so he took a minute to slow down and double check each name on the list. And then he checked again, making sure they didn’t just get his name wrong.

“Who the fuck is Michael Jones?” he heard from a few feet to his right. Michael looked up and saw the blonde from earlier. She was staring up at the other side of the board, looking very confused.

Michael asked, “You my first opponent?”, figuring she’d found their names.

The woman looked up at him. “You’re Michael Jones?” she confirmed.

“Yeah. When are we battling? I couldn’t find my name on the bracket,” Michael moved over toward the centre of the board, his eyes scanning that list of names.

“Uh,” she mumbled. Michael looked up when he saw her arm raise, but it wasn’t toward the left side of the board. She was pointing at the top corner of the doubles bracket. There was his name...followed by the name “Lindsay Jones”.

“Who the fuck is Lindsay Jones?” Michael asked, then realized he’d just echoed what the woman next to him had said. “Wait, so how did we get entered into the doubles? What did you say to them?!” He was getting frustrated, and it was coming through in his voice.

“I didn’t say anything!” the woman, who Michael could only assume was Lindsay Jones, defended herself. The way she shifted and didn’t meet his eyes made Michael a bit suspicious.

“So they just decided we were partners? Why?” Michael looked back up at the board. “Cause we have the same last name? Its not like its an uncommon name.”

“Yeah,” Lindsay agreed. “Super common name.” She shifted again and Michael narrowed his eyes at her.

“You name is Jones, right? That’s what is says on the board,” Michael asked.

“Yeah!” she replied, quickly. “It’s such a weird coincidence.”

Michael let the words hang in the air between them. When Lindsay said nothing more, he continued, “All right, fine. So what are we supposed to do? This was supposed to be my first tournament, I don’t want to walk away without even stepping up.”

“We could go talk to the registration desk?” Lindsay suggested. “Maybe they can straighten it out.”

Michael looked up at the bracket written on the board, shaking his head. “Naw, look at this shit, there’s no room to fit two players into the roster at this point.” He turned away and balled his fists. “Damnit!” he shouted to the now nearly empty reception area. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

“Hey, hey, calm the fuck down!” Lindsay yelled back at him, startling Michael into turning back to face her. He was not used to other people meeting his outbursts with a passionate response of their own. “Sorry,” she added, when she saw the shock on his face. “I just mean, we could always just...compete?”

Michael was taken aback by her suggestion. “You mean...just go along with it? Pretend we’re brother and sister, or whatever?” he asked, more to himself than to the woman in front of him.

“Yeah,” Lindsay agreed. “I mean, I don’t really want to give up my chance at competing today, either.”

Michael nodded. “Right,” he agreed. “Well, it’ll be good tournament practice in any case.” He let his pack fall off his shoulder and reached his hand in for a pouch from which he extracted three poke balls and started fitting them into the small pockets in his jacket. “What pokemon are you bringing into battle? I’ve got my Charizard, he’s awesome. And my Pidgeot and if it comes down to it, I have Ghastly, but I only captured him recently so he’s not very well trained, hasn’t evolved yet or anything.”

Lindsay looked down at her feet, where she was drawing senseless lines in the dirt. “I’ve got a Graveler, and my Caterpie just became a Metapod. And Bulbasaur, he’s been my buddy from the beginning,” she listed.

Michael raised his eyebrows in surprise. “How long have you been training?”

“A few months,” Lindsay said. “But I’ve known a few good trainers, in- uh, in my hometown.”

“You’ve had a bulbasaur for a few months and he hasn’t evolved?” an edge of frustration crept into Michael’s voice. He had worked hard, for weeks, long days of battling and training his Charmander until he evolved into Charmeleon and finally into Charizard only a few days ago, just in time for Michael to make the journey to participate in this very tournament. It was inconceivable to him how someone, a serious trainer if she was entering tournaments after only a few months, wouldn’t have done the same.

Lindsay just smiled in the face of his confusion. “Oh, he could have evolved, but he’s just so much cuter as Bulbasaur than as Ivysaur. He’s still pretty kick ass,” she explained.

“That’s...dumb,” Michael replied. Looking at the clocktower in the square, he added, “Come on, let’s go. Our first battle starts soon.”  They reached the tournament grounds just a couple of minutes before the opening speeches ended. Michael turned back to Lindsay and started talking strategy. “Okay, so just follow my lead, and don’t do anything dumb, keep type in mind, and, uh…” He paused, searching for one more piece of advice when the voice on the loudspeakers began calling the first battle of the day.

“...and first time competitors at this tournament, from Celadon City, Michael and Lindsay Jones!”

The crowd was cheering, so Michael grabbed Lindsay by the hand, pulling her toward the battle area.

*****

There was a sheen of sweat on Michael’s forehead when they left the field, having just barely squeaked out a victory.

“What the hell were you thinking,” Michael spat out under his breath. “Why on earth would you tell your Graveler to use Bulldoze? It makes no sense!”

“It takes down their defense!” Lindsay hissed back. “We needed an advantage!”

“But it lowered my defense too!” Michael stopped his march once they’d reached the trainer’s rest tent. He grabbed her arm, pulling Lindsay to face him. “Charizard could have been seriously hurt!”

Lindsay pulled her arm free of Michael’s grasp, her face hard. “It worked, didn’t it?” she said through clenched teeth.

“So,” a voice near them spoke up, and both of them spun to see who was speaking. Another trainer, probably a few years older than they were, approached them with a smile. “I take it this is your first tournament together?”

“Is it that obvious?” Michael asked wryly.

The trainer laughed. “I mean, kind of,” they admitted. “But I think its sweet. You’re newlyweds, right?”

Michael and Lindsay shared a shocked look. “Uhh...what?” Michael got out.

“Both of you forgot your rings,” the trainer pointed out.

In tandem both Michael and Lindsay put their hands out in front of them, even knowing there would be no rings there. Lindsay impulsively reached over and grabbed Michael’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

“Ha, yeah, I guess we were so excited this morning we forgot to put them on,” she said with a giggle. “We’d better get his Charizard to the Poke Center before the next battle.”

As they turned, Lindsay twisted her arm behind her back, pulling Michael’s arm around her waist. He took the hint and let his fingers part from hers and rest on her hip.

“I don’t think they assumed we were siblings,” Lindsay said under her breath, her head turned into his so her lips were against his ear.