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Hey guys! I'm back hopefully permanently at the writing of this story, but they won't be coming out as fast as they have been because of school, homework, and football. I've had more time this week than I will most, so yeah, just thought I'd get this one last chapter AND beginning of a new story out before I get overwhelmed.

So yeah! Roll the film!

I grunted as I stumbled to a halt at the end of the play. I rubbed my arm where a helmet had hit me, trying to wash the pain away. Coach Mace--our coach and an incredibly mean guy--yelled, "What was that?! John, you could've had three more yards! Jake, that was an easy tackle for you, and you didn't make it. How did that happen!?"

They both shook their heads, loosening up their necks, and got set for the next play. I did as well, at my position on the D-line. I played Defensive End, and this is my first year starting. It is also my senior year in high school at Valor Christian. I frowned and shook my head. I'd already decided on my college--Xavier University, in Cincinnati--but I hadn't gotten a scholarship, which both me and my parents were getting frustrated about, and this was the last chance I had to get one on sports, considering I only played football. I simply shrugged it off and cleared my mind, preparing myself for the next play.

"Set go!" Luke, our Q, and a jaguar, shouted. Nobody moved, nor did the ball even so much at twitch. "Purple 47, purple 47!" I logged that. Purple was pass. Red was run. "Set go!"

The ball snapped. I launched out of my three point stance, shooting my hands up into the chest of the tackle opposite me, Lucas, a bear. I faked a step inside, then rolled to my outside contain. I dropped my shoulder and sprinted into the pocket, which was collapsing. Dropping your shoulder as a defensive end was key, as the linemen couldn't block you then without getting called for holding or illegal block in the back.

Luke went to throw, and I jumped up. (Yes, by the way, this is Luke McCaffery, and yes, I do play football with him.) The ball left Luke's hand--and went almost directly into mine. Interception. I tucked the ball away and sprinted toward my end zone. Pick-6.

I laughed wonderingly. If doing something like that didn't get me a scholarship, I don't know what would. I just had to be able to repeat it.

Sure enough, next play, I did the same thing. Now I just needed to prove I could do it in game. I glanced up in the stadium, where a Xavier scout was standing. I nodded once and he nodded back.

I smiled, then grunted as Jake, Josh, and Stewie, a snake (or what one would look like if it had arms and legs)--our other three ends, along with Brookie, a dragon, who was injured--ran over to me and pounded me on the back. "That's what I'm talkin' about, Rend!" Josh shouted. Grinning, I jogged over to the sidelines, letting Josh sub in for me for two plays so I could take a breather.

Someone from the track team was standing on the sidelines as well. "That was a pretty good play, girl."

Frowning, I ignored him. Yet he still persisted, because he knew he was getting under my skin. "How did they make you a starter, huh, gal? Oh wait, maybe 'cause you're a guy!"

I grunted. One thing that's not fun about being a hermaphrodite is exactly what's happening. You get bullied and bullied and bullied. And you get no end of teasing from your friends. I frowned one more time. Then Josh, a bear, got pulled because of a particularly hard hit. It looked like he almost couldn't get up. Again, I frowned, then jogged out to take over for him. Then again, it wasn't too surprising, considering he was on the small side for a bear. Muscular as opposed to fat, and not even super muscular.

"Darius, it's Eagle. Remember, five or three!" Darius, who was a lion, nodded once to me. "Robbie, you to." Robert, a tiger, gave me a nod as well.

I turned towards the LoS (line of scrimmage) as the offense came out of huddle. Immediately, I yelled, "Tight left, tight left!" and moved myself into a three tech.

Robbie and Darius just barely got adjusted before the ball got snapped. I smashed myself into the guard, Peyton, another bear, this time, and even though I battled as hard as I could, I couldn't get past him. The ball was thrown. I jumped and got a finger on it. As soon as I landed, I turned and sprinted to where the ball was thrown. I'd touched it just enough so that Tim, who was playing corner at the moment, could bat it down. "Yes!" I hissed to myself, but made sure not to show any triumphant motion. Mace hated that, and so did the scouts.

I glanced at the sidelines and was surprised to see that the track athlete had all but disappeared. Shrugging, I smiled. I honestly wasn't that upset, though I would be in a few days, when track practice began in earnest. They practiced at the same time we did, and their overinflated ego made them intolerable. Hey, track is an Olympic sport, not football. American, that is, not British. They would always stand on the sidelines and mock us as we battered each other to the ground. What infuriated us most was that they'd just fly by on the track, making even our fastest players look slow--that is, except for Zach.

I grinned. Zach was the_single fastest player on the team. The fact that he was a panda did nothing to help. If you looked at his form in what seemed like regular speed for most of us, it wouldn't even look like he should be half as fast as us. His arms cross his body, he stands _straight up, his head is tilted back to the point of looking up, and he runs almost stiff-legged. Some of us give him a hard time about that, but mostly we give him a hard time about his hands. He rarely can catch a single throw. Today he caught a few, so we congratulated him like nobody's business, but it's all in good fun.

Anyways, the track team is one of our worst rivals--well, I say one of. They honestly are. The coaches of both teams are constantly pushing us past our limits to make us better than the other. Both teams hated it, but both teams couldn't get along.

I grunted as my muzzle hit the facemask. I'm a wolf, by the way. Smiling, I pushed myself back onto my feet. It was gonna be a long practice.

Some fifteen minutes later, I tipped the ball again. Shaking my head, I just left play. I wasn't making the offensive line better--in fact, I was making them discouraged and worse. "Josh, go in and make them better." He nodded and jogged out onto the field.

I watched the next play progress and nodded with satisfaction. Josh was better for them. Being too good will be bad for the team, as will being worse. Just then, the sense that someone was standing behind me made me groan. I spun around, ready to face and respond to more insults--and stopped dead.

Standing there was a gryphon, although...a little different. I don't know what little voice in my head said that, but something told me that there was a difference in the...the very essence of his being. His head was that of a wolf's, saving the fact that the fur was a silvery grey color that was speckled with cobalt blue where the sun reflected off of it. His upper torso and arms were that of an eagle's, though the feathers were cobalt blue (I'm starting to see a pattern here) that were speckled with fire red, and legs those of a wolf's as well, saving the fact that the fur on them were, again, silvery grey speckled with cobalt where the sun reflected off of it. I had to assume his footpads were those of a wolf's as well.

"Hey," he said, cocking his head to one side, the cobalt speckles following.

That distracted me for a second, then I said, "H-hi." I looked him up and down. He looked muscular, which meant he was probably a distance runner. Sprinters are always scrawny and thin--save for their leg muscles--because they have to lose the extra weight to run faster. He had only track shorts and running shoes on. The shoes surprised me; unless we're playing soccer or football or something that requires cleats, anthros usually go without shoes. And generally no shirts, either. There was nothing restricting us from not wearing even shorts or underwear, with the one rule that we could keep our crotches under control. Therefore, most middle and high school boys wear shorts. "A-are you new here? I don't think I've seen you on campus."

"I am," he said, "just transferred from Thunderidge. Name's Red," he added, sticking his paw out for a handshake.

I grabbed it. "Rend. At least, that's my nickname."

Red grinned. "I like it. What's your real name, Scout?"

"Close," I said. "My parents almost named me that, they tell me. I would not like to reveal my real name, at least yet."

"Oh, well," he said, shrugging. "Hello, Rend."

I grinned.

He held up a finger. "Now, before I forget. I'm going to write something down, and I want you to put it in your bag without looking at it. 'Kay?"

I frowned. "Can I look at it at home?"

"Sure, just not here." Red did not seem like the type to write inappropriately.

"Okay," I decided. "I promise."

Red nodded once, as if he knew I was going to agree. "Be right back." He walked over to a table that was set up on the walk next to the rubber track, grabbed a pen and a small piece of paper, and scribbled something on it. Then he turned and strode back. "Told you I'd be right back."

"You did." I smiled and took the paper when he offered it to me, making sure whatever he wrote was facing my palm as I stuffed it into the bag I used to carry all of my supplies in the morning. "I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Sure," Red said. "See ya."

"Bye."

He walked off in the direction of a set of blocks that marked the start of the hundred meter. I smiled somewhat happily and glanced back toward the scrimmage.

I gasped painfully as I pulled the brake levers yet again on my motorbike. Aches all over my arms and torso throbbed in unison with my heartbeat. The one thing I didn't like about I25 was that it was constantly plagued with rush hour traffic. The drive home--or rather, to my apartment--took around a half hour on a good day. On one like this, it could take up to an hour.

Not quite that long, I thought to myself as I pulled to a stop in front of my apartment in the parking garage. Climbing up the two flights of steps--every one hurt--to the room, I stopped in front of my door.

I fumbled with my keys for a few seconds until I found the correct one, shoving it into the lock and turning. Or, at least, I tried to. I almost stabbed myself instead because it was so dark.

The creak as the door opened pierced my ears. Instinctively, they went down, expecting a jump scare from a family member. No, not that type of member. A person from my family. Flipping on the lights, I frowned. They must not be home yet.

Grabbing a zone bar from the cabinet, I turned the corner of my house into the long hall right next to the entrance, slowly heading for the bathroom.

I filled the tub to its fullest. I grabbed my phone and the bag as it was filling. Setting both down on the counter, I turned off the faucet and lowered myself in, gasping as the warm water soaked through my fur and came into contact with my skin. Sliding my head under the water, I floated with just my muzzle above the surface of the water so I could breathe.

Some ten minutes later, I lifted my head out, water cascading down my neck as I reached over and dried my arms on the towel. Then I picked up the bag and searched for the slip of paper from earlier. Aha! I thought as my paw-like hand closed on it and pulled it out. My hand trembled as I considered whether it would be good for my health to open it. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my hand...

And flipped it over.

Ten characters adorned the front side of the notecard. Three were in parentheses, and the other seven were separated into a group of three and a group of four with a hyphen. I frowned.

We had just met. There was no call for that. I shrugged then and picked up my phone. Tapping on the screen eleven times--my thumb trembling almost too much to hit the correct buttons--and held it to my ear. For three seconds, a song played in my ear, and then a beep.

Yep. He gave me his phone number.

"'Yello?" Red's voice came through.

Smiling, I set it on speaker. "Hey." After an appropriate pause during which neither of us could think of what to say, I said, "You didn't have to give me your number."

He laughed, the sound almost robotic through the speaker. "Yes, I did." A second passed. "Okay, maybe not." We both laughed. "It was just something that was kinda heat-of-the-moment foolishness," he said, by way of explanation.

"How was the rest of your workout?" I asked.

I could almost sense the shrug. "Not much different than any other track practice. Okay, I guess."

"Do you like track?" I asked.

"Yeah. I like football, too, but it was that or track, and I chose track," he answered.

"Do you still want to play football? I could convince Coach to let you join late..." I coughed.

"Nah, it's alright. I saw the way your head coach was."

I laughed a little. "That was one of his good days."

He laughed too. An awkward silence entered the conversation here, where neither he nor I could think of anything appropriate to say. I leaned my head back against the wall behind the bathtub and let out a sigh, attempting to consciously relax. Red heard. "Is this a bad time?"

I shook my head, forgetting that he can't see me. Then I added, "No, I just got home, so this is as good a time we can get, really."

I heard him relax a little. "Okay, good. I wouldn't want to intrude on your privacy."

"Well," I said, laughing a little, "I am in the bath."

"Woah!" he exclaimed. "Lay off the details, bro!"

We laughed again, and then another silence reigned. I heard a sigh of what sounded like longing from his end, but ignored it, assuming his mind was somewhere else. However, when I heard it again a minute later, I got a little curious.

The third time it happened, I asked, "I know it may be a little awkward right now, but... Are you in love with me?"

"Yes," he said simply, surprising me. I hadn't expected him to be so straightforward. I thought he would be a little dodgy and make me force it out of him.

I was silent for half a minute. Then, "Sorry, I didn't expect you to be so straight with me, pardon the pun." Another minute passed. "Give me some time to think," I said. "I'm not used to open love yet. I'm more used to secret, 'Don't tell my parents' relationships. My parents have known I'm gay for a while though, so that won't bother them. What will is my getting into the relationship in the first place, if I decide I'm ready to play the dating game on 'Extreme' difficulty."

"Okay."

My mind was racing even before he gave his consent, so if he said something more, it was lost in the whirlwind that was my thoughts right now. The water had cooled off by now, so I was a little more comfortable, and able to think better. Well, I thought, he is a track athlete, which could prove a problem between the two teams if we start dating. Then again, it may not matter if I don't love him. Do I? ... For about five minutes I considered this question, working around it as if it was a food that I'd never tried before. Sure, I'd dated a bunch of guys and girls, but none of them lasted more than a week. As I thought about it, I began to grow more and more confident in my answer.

"Okay," I said suddenly. "Like I said, I'm not used to 'I love you' love. I'm used to 'Don't tell my parents' love."

"Okay," he said somewhat excitedly.

"And after some thought," I said, "and working my way around it like an odd food...I've decided to take a chance...Red...I love you, too."

Dead silence emanated from his side of the phone, and just when I started to believe the line had gone dead, he whispered, "Really?"

"Yeah." I nodded to myself, as if trying to convince myself that this was not a dream.

"Th-thank you," he said, voice once again strong.

"Why?" I said.

"Because I've never had anyone admit openly to loving me, either. I've lived the same secluded life you have." His voice almost shook, and it took on a melancholy tone towards the end, but it strengthened once again as he said, "Thank you."

I smiled and pulled the plug. "Sure! And even if it doesn't work out--which I believe it will--we can still be friends."

"Of course," he agreed.

Silence overcame us as the tub drained, and a sense of melancholy gripped me as the last drops fell into the drain. I began to sing as an outlet, tapping on the song in my iPod library.

_If I wasn't here tomorrow would anybody care If my time was up Id wanna know You were happy I was there

If I wasn't here tomorrow would anyone lose sleep If I wasn't hard and hollow Then maybe you would miss me_

I know I'm a mess and I wanna be someone Someone that I'd like better I can never forget, so don't remind me of it forever

What if I just pulled myself together Would it matter at all What if I just tried not to remember Would it matter at all All the chances that have passed me by Would it matter if I gave it one more try Would it matter at all

If I wasn't here tomorrow would anybody care Still stuck inside this sorrow I got nothin' and going nowhere

I know I'm a mess and I wanna be someone Someone that I'd like better I can never forget, so don't remind me of it forever

What if I just pulled myself together Would it matter at all What if I just tried not to remember Would it matter at all All the chances that have passed me by Would it matter if I gave it one more try Would it matter at all

I know I'm a mess and I wanna be someone Someone that I'd like better Can you help me forget, don't wanna feel like this forever (Forever!)

What if I just pulled myself together Would it matter at all What if I just tried not to remember Would it matter at all All the chances that have passed me by Would it matter if I gave it one more try Would it matter at all

If I left tomorrow would anybody care Stuck in this sorrow Going nowhere

The song faded into nothingness with my voice. Again, silence reigned as I toweled off and got my clothes on. Once I felt better, I asked, "What are you doing?"

He laughed amazingly. "Listening to you, apparently. You're amazing, bro!"

"No." I shook my head. "I'm not that good."

"Uh, yeah, you are," he said, "and you'd better not deny it."

"Okay," I said, chuckling. "I don't think I'm as good as you make me out to be, but okay."

"Thank you."

The conversation faded once again into silence. "Hey," Red said suddenly. "Do you play Counter Strike?"

"I play Global Offensive, but not the original," I replied.

"Perfect. What do you like to play?" he asked, a seemingly harmless question.

"I like to play sniper or AWPer and am getting better, but for now I'm best at rifling."

I felt his smile. "Great. We need a T bomb carrier and another rifler on CT. Wanna join?"

Grinning as well, I replied, "Sure, so long as the competitions don't interfere with football or school."

"We won't go to the ones that do," he confirmed.

"Sweet." As an afterthought, I asked, "Who else is on the team?"

It took him a second. "The snake, Stewie, right?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. Also, the fox, Trevor, and Zach, who is the...panda, right?"

"Yeah," I said again.

"Yep, then that's the team." I nodded and made a sound of satisfaction. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," I said, "Just the fact that we may end up playing pros."

He laughed. "Yeah. Is it time for bed for you?"

"No," I groaned. "I still have homework."

"Wow," he said. "Do you have any study days?"

"One, I think," I said. "And only two flexes, Monday afternoon and Friday morning."

"Ouch," Red said. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll let you go," he said. "Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Cool."

"Alright, see you then."

"See ya."

My phone went blank, leaving me to stare at it in amazement. I had not expected this; not at all. However, I appreciated that he took time out of his day to talk to me and give me his number at practice, and again now. I smiled as I thought of our relationship to be.

I slipped on some pajamas and sat at my desk, pulling out my laptop and chemistry notebook.

Well, that's all for now, guys! By the way, that other story I've been putting up, the no-yiff one? Well, I'm three chapters into that, and it has less words that this singe chappy! I mean, right? That's something that surprises me.

Also, the song reflects how I feel in my own life.

Anyways, I'll see you guys next time!