Terrestrial Alien ✔

Chapter 8: Foreboding Mistakes

Joshua

At first, I'm in no real hurry to get back to the field. I trudge down street after street, rubbing my eyes exhaustedly while feeling my steps heavy with emotion. I don't really know what to feel actually, I'm almost kind of numb. Sundo is alive, I know that now. Or rather, Seth is alive. I can't believe any of this is real.

I could most likely dwell on this the entire way, but my thoughts can only manage to go in repetitive circles that only replay our conversation over and over again. It's not helping at all, and it's only managing to make me feel worse. Guilt is finally starting to creep up on me when I finally find the need to distract myself, which I do so with one glance down to my watch. The shock that zaps through me is sobering, especially as I see that based on this time, practice has only 10 minutes left.

The panic sets in as I realize I'm still blocks away from where I need to be, and every pitiful thought is left in the dust as I break into a run down the street. God, I can't miss all of practice because of this, this just can't happen. Ironically, I hadn't realized how far from the soccer field I'd run while chasing Seth until I'm finally trying to get back to it on a schedule. Despite my distraught running, it still takes twice as long to get there, and I really start to regret not running from the start.

By the time I finally do make it there, my feet are sore from the concrete and my inadequate shoes, my back hurts from my cleats constantly bumping against it, and practice is wrapping up. I missed it, goddamn it I actually missed it. And the most exasperating thing about it all, aside from missing practice? Despite being the reason for my own being late to practice, I probably would never have made it to practice at all if it wasn't for Seth.

I hate him, oh I really do hate him.

After the frantic run over here and the let down of missing practice, I have to hunch over on the sidelines with my hands on my knees, and I let out a loud aggravated groan after struggling to catch my breath for longer than should be necessary. I hear someone running towards me, and I look up to find none other than Connor Patterson looking down at me with a both disappointed and amused look.

"You a'right, mate?" He asks, tilting his head to try to get a look at my face.

With a sigh, I stand up straight and give him a look. "I'm fine." I grumble, waving off any concern he might have due to my frazzled appearance. "Did I really miss all of practice?"

"Yea, I'm 'fraid so." He admits with an empathetic smile, glancing out onto the field behind him. "Coach was pretty disappointed, from the game plan we got today he's really gonna be depending on you next week."

I can do nothing but groan again, both glad to be needed for the game next week and angry with myself for missing the practice when they went over the plan of attack.

"Oh, and poor Ying seemed pretty upset too actually," Connor slides in there before I get a chance to voice my complaints, and he gives me a side glance as he grins wryly. "I think she was finally gon' work up the nerve to talk to you, man."

I scowl, looking him over with absolutely no idea who he's talking about. Or what for that matter. "Um, who..?"

Connor raises his eyebrows in surprise, as if he thought whatever he'd been talking about is already common knowledge. "You know, Ying Christen! That girl that comes to every practice and practically oogles over only just you? Come on, mate, don't tell me you haven't noticed her all year in the bleachers, I mean seriously."

I can only blink, giving him a confused look before glancing to the bleachers behind me. Sure enough, a black haired girl is sitting in one of the middle bleachers, seeming to be doodling in a notebook for now. I finally recognise her when I see her, and I look back to Connor with even more confusion.