Tell Jackson how you really feel?
From Create Your Own Story
Shit, so you can be a softie at times. ( I mean considering you still have the note mom wrote you in your bag, it's pretty obvious.) But it's better to speak your mind, than be like most guys and cover it up in cigs, hookers, and beer. Right now you feel like a piece of shit, and who knows maybe talking it out, will help ease your mind?
Jackson is yards away, heading to the gym; you sprint over to greet him. He prompts you to the side, under a shady tree. "What's up?" he says. He's drenched in sweat, and panting. He looks exhausted, but he's cracking a smile. Jackson during tryouts isolates himself from everyone for at least an hour. You've always assumed he was preparing for his parent's speech the car ride home. To see him actually ecstatic after an hour of grueling exercises is a shock. This must really mean a lot to him... I mean why wouldn't it though? He literally just spent three months working his ass off to get this opportunity. Thinking about it now, is it even worth asking him? I mean if Jackson doesn't take your place, some smug-ass freshman will. At least you can support your friend who earned the quarterback position...
"Hello?" Jackson says in-between breaths. Oh right- you're still talking. You better hurry up and get to the point, because you know Jackson is about to bust his ass preparing for the second tryouts. "Sorry," you say "just wanted to get something off my chest- I'm freaking the fuck out about tryouts. Like when did the school team get this fucking good?" (Probably from last year's tournament; that shit was spectacular. You didn't place first but 3rd; yet, considering the team ranked last 'til half way through the season it was basically a fucking miracle.) "What I'm trying to say is do you think you can go a little easier, so I might have a shot at least making back quarterback?"
Jackson's eyes filled with anguish. He inhaled a deep breath before he replied, "I understand, this means a lot to you and you're under a lot of fucking stress for that sport scholarship- but this has been my whole fucking world. Not since 3 months ago, my whole damn life. Whenever you got quarterback and I was running back my parents made me practice throwing till my knuckles bled, and sprinting until my legs gave out. You have no idea how many family dinners where you're fucking mentioned, my parents feel like I'm shit. I'm going to do everything in my power get you on the team ,and if you fairly beat meto the position so be it. But I fucking need this."
He grips your jersey, his glares burning your corneas- waiting for a reply. "I can respect that" and go in for a side hug. Feeling assured Jackson pats you on the back and says, "Alright then, are you ready for training round 2?"
Yeah... but first you
