Staying Alive Ain't Easy

"Thank god, we're done with football," Xavier said as he, Kona, Trent, Brandon, and Max descended the front stairs of the Thornes' porch. They had stayed until halftime of the afternoon games, but the combination of Coach Thorne's poor mood and Dawson's ass-kissing proved to be a downer. "Can you imagine practice tomorrow with the mood that Thorne is in?"

"Nah, the last meeting two weeks ago would've been worse. Not only did we lose our playoff game the weekend before, but that's when Myles Garrett lost his mind and whipped his helmet at the Steelers' QB. I wasn't there, but Bran was," Trent prodded his friend.

"Yeah, Coach went ballistic. He screamed that Garrett was a dumb motherfucker, and whipped the remote against the wall, shattering it. Ivory told him he was acting like a little boy, and stormed upstairs," Brandon recounted.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fucking cold out here! See ya," Xavier responded, running to his car.

The other teens did the same with Max attempting to grab the passenger seat, but Trent pulled him away and claimed it. The dark-skinned teen laughed maniacally when Max ordered him not to let loose with any of his Luigi's-fueled gas until he got home.

"Consider it payback, bitches," Trent warned, pointing his finger at Max and then Brandon. "You jerks stole my girl away from me for most of the day."

"We didn't steal Mrs. Thorne," Max protested. "We just sat upstairs with her. I wasn't going to sit there and listen to any more of Fox's bullshit."

"Bro, if you hadn't stayed up there, then Ivory would've come downstairs. Time's running out for my shot," Trent pointed out.

"What shot?" Max muttered from the back seat. "Getting shot by her husband is more likely."

"Hey, Ivory married ole Rex there! Of course, I got a shot if he pulled that."

"Coach locked her down way back in high school. That's how he pulled her," Max reminded him. "Star quarterback shine."

"I hate quarterbacks. Bunch of prima-donnas, who score the best tail. Tight, little cheerleader tail." Trent nudged his team's quarterback over the vehicle's console with his elbow.

"Uh, Bran, we gonna go?" Max asked as his friend didn't react.

"Bro, what's your problem?" Trent asked Brandon, who sat behind the wheel of the running SUV but didn't drive off yet. "You've been depressed all day."

Brandon's head perked up as he saw Dawson descend the front stairs, and hurry to his bright orange Corvette. Both his friends caught sight of what had Brandon's interest but thought different things.

"Yo, you wanna slash the kid's tires?" Trent questioned. "That's not a good idea, man."

"Let it go, Bran. So what if Fox is the new golden boy? You got college ball to look ahead to," Max reassured him.

"That's why you've been moping around all day? Sheeeeeitt, I thought you caught Maddie kissing a dude or something," Trent remarked with a shake of his head. "Who cares what Thorne thinks. He's not your pops."

"Nah, I'm just thinking. Remember how RJ spent the time to mentor me? Shouldn't I do the same for Fox?" Brandon asked as the Corvette backed out of the drive swiftly and sloppily. Hitting the peddle, Dawson's tires squealed as the sports car shot forward down the road.

"You—you want to help teach that little shit?!" Trent stammered incredulously.

"Bran, are you feeling alright?" Max inquired, leaning from the back seat to feel his friend's forehead.

"You still sick?" Trent added to Max's line of inquiry.

"No, I'm serious. I think I need to help him out. I probably should've done so during the season, but I hoped that Howie would get a fair shot at starting," Brandon explained. "And if I don't, aren't I screwing over the guys that came before me?"

"Yep, this is crazy flu talk," Trent stated, looking back at Max. "You better get home and back into bed. Take some Robitussin."

"I'm not sick!"

"It's either that or Ashley cutting you off for a day is causing you to hallucinate," Trent commented, before making a suggestion. "So, Crazy Brandon, how about sending over Ashley to my place tonight? I can do some mentoring."

The thud of the punch to Trent's shoulder and the resulting cry echoed around the SUV.

Turning onto the O'Dell's street, Brandon continued to play his conversation with Ivory over and over in his head. Break up with Ashley? That's crazy talk. I don't want to do that. But are we destined to be together forever? Does it matter? We should be able to enjoy our relationship without talking about marriage already. We are only fucking eighteen!

Brandon checked the clock on the dashboard when he parked on the street in front of the O'Dell home. I'm pretty early. Hopefully, Mads won't take much longer. Hopping out of the vehicle, Brandon braced himself against the cold air whipping around. Ringing the doorbell, he huddled close to the door. I should've grabbed a hat and gloves. Impatient, Brandon rang the bell again, and stepped over to peer in the window, and then up to the second story. The O'Dells had a large two-story home located on one of the upper-middle class streets in Azure Rocks. Relatively modest for the road, Brandon knew they could afford an even nicer home with Mr. O'Dell's job as CEO of Bluestone National Bank, but they liked their house.

Freezing and unsure if the bell worked, Brandon opening the screen door and knocked on the inner door. Stamping his feet to keep warm, the usually self-conscious quarterback started to hop up and down. Finally, the door opened, revealing an out of breath Delilah.

Dark-skinned with medium-length, curly black hair, brown eyes, and probably a pair of B-cups, Delilah had a short, athletic figure that suited her well as a dancer. Vice-captain of the Honeybears, she arguably could be called the one senior member of the dance squad that Ashley's friends liked. As one of Madison's oldest friends, her attractiveness was usually lost on Brandon, much like Lisa's had been until two days ago. Still, part of his brain noticed the way Delilah's hoodie sweatshirt and pants hugged her figure.

"Brandon, you're early!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"I know. It got awkward over at Coach Thorne's, so we left early. Is Madison ready?"

"Uh, no, no. We're still studying," Delilah answered, looking over her shoulder. "Did you want to come back?"

"Can I come in and wait? It's freezing out here," Brandon asked, his teeth nearly chattering.

"Oh! Sorry," Delilah apologized, stepping aside to let him into the front hallway.

After he shut the door, the two teens stood around awkwardly. Brandon removed his coat while Delilah fidget. In the background, gunfire and loud explosions could be heard. Peering down the hall for the source of the noise, Brandon shot her a questioning look.

"That's Sammy. He claimed the big screen TV in the family room for his games," Delilah explained, rolling her eyes. Suddenly, she perked up with an idea. "Why don't you hang out with him until we're done?"

"Sure, I guess," Brandon shrugged.

Happy, Delilah promised to send Madison down when they were done studying. Racing up the stairs, Brandon paused to admire toned buttocks. Cute ass. Probably as good as Ash's. Having been in the O'Dell's house as a kid, he knew his way around the house.

Entering the family room, Brandon saw thirteen-year-old Samson O'Dell leaning back into a couch as he stared intently at the flat-screen television. He held a video game controller while wearing a headset around his black buzz-cut hair.

"What's up, Samson the Man?" Brandon greeted.

"Shhhh!" the young teenager shushed. He gestured with his hand to leave him alone, while never looking away from the screen. "No, I wasn't talking to you, Jamie."

Seeing that his presence wasn't wanted, Brandon took a seat on a chair next to the wall, out of Sammy's eye line. With most of the eighteen-year-old's video game playing limited to various sports games, Brandon had no clue what Sammy was playing online with his friends. It looked to be some first-person shooter but more of a sci-fi type than regular military.

"Fuck, ambush! Where? On your left, Casey!" Samson exclaimed. On the screen, Brandon could see a hail of energy bolts hit the ruined buildings all around Sammy and his squad. Brandon wasn't sure, but he thought there were three or four members of Sammy's team. "Jamie, I'm moving to the half section of the wall in front of us. Cover me."

Watching as Delilah's little brother calmly issued orders to his squad, Brandon couldn't help but be impressed at the kid's gaming strategy. It appeared that the game featured multiple teams in groups of five, and the goal of the game was two-fold. Capturing items from various locations seemed important as was killing the other squads.

"Oleg, get that stray. He's priming an explosive. Get him!" Sammy ordered his squad's sharpshooter. "Whew, nice shooting. Alright, that's two teams down. Let's get out of this laboratory quick. I don't like the look of those specimens in the glass cylinders."

Losing himself in the game, Brandon lost track of time. He watched as Sammy's concern proved wise when damage from the earlier firefight caused cylinders to crack and released several rampaging alien lifeforms. The player named Oleg ended up with severe acid wounds and died.

"Okay, keep sharp, boys," Sammy warned as his squad approached an industrial complex. Brandon could tell the teen had concerns as he seemed to tense up and lean forward on the couch.

Once again, his instincts proved right as energy bolts crisscrossed his squad from multiple directions. A well-placed grenade caused a blast that threw several of the team, including Sammy, to the ground. Breaking to the left on the screen, Sammy jumped over to hide behind a steel barricade. Over on the right, two of his fellow soldiers huddle behind several large canisters.

"Jamie, Casey, get away from those! Shit, sniper!" Both Brandon and Sammy searched for the source of the sniper on the screen as laser bolts rained down from above and pinned down Jamie and Casey behind what Brandon now realized were tanks of explosive gases. "I see him...or her! Up top to the west, near those catwalks. It's the Powerpuffs!"

Attempting several shots with his rife, Sammy checked his inventory and swore at what he found.

"Declan, you still got an RPG, right? Good. You need to get that sniper. What? I don't care. Blow the whole area up. Knowing those girls, they're already flanking around us."

Time seemed to slow down as Brandon and Sammy saw a solider race up from behind their location on the screen. Holding a strange-looking missile launcher, the player stumbled right when he fired, sending the RPG not forward but to the side. To the same side as the tanks that his squadmates hid behind. The explosion that resulted was spectacular. Both Jamie and Casey's soldiers were vaporized, while the blast burned Declan's to a crisp.

"Noooo! Dammit, Casey, your little brother fucked everything up," Sammy hissed, before ripping his headset off. "Blasted McRoses. Yeah, my little brother won't screw up. I swear, Sammy," he bitched to himself.

Reaching over, the pissed off thirteen-year-old replaced his headset and looked back up at the screen. Unfortunately, when he turned to check his surroundings in the game, a purple-clad enemy soldier stood before him, holding a sword. Moving like lightning, she impaled Sammy's character.

"Fuck!" he screamed, dropping his controller. "Yeah, you should be sorry, Declan. We lost to a bunch of fucking girls because of your blunder. Even worse, Bella killed me. I'm never going to hear the end of this."

"Wait, you lost to a squad of girls?" Brandon questioned.

"AAAHHH!!!" Sammy O'Dell shrieked as he scrambled away from the sound of Brandon's voice.

Brandon watched the teenager's antics with a what-the-fuck face.

"Bran—Brandon?! What the hell, man!" Samson stammered. "Where did you come from?"

"I've been here for a while. Ever since you broke through that checkpoint. Or at least that's what I think it was," Brandon explained. "I did say hi when I walked in, and you shushed me."

"I did? How did you get in here?"

"Your sister let me in. Who else would?" Brandon questioned, wondering if Sammy wasn't as bright as he thought.

"Lilah's here? I thought the house was empty," Sammy admitted, shaking his head confusion.

"Yeah, Madison's here too. They're studying for a test," Brandon informed him.

"Really? I thought my sister had plans, and I didn't know that your sister was coming over," Sammy said, turning off his game. "I guess I was too caught up into the action. Man, I gotta hit the bathroom. You want a Coke or something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Help yourself," Samson said as he left the room.

Brandon stood up and followed the same direction that Delilah's brother went. Passing the bathroom, he could hear the younger teen sighing with relief as he emptied his bladder. Continuing to the kitchen, Brandon grabbed a can of soda and popped the top. Taking a chug, he started to wonder about what the kid said.

Sammy didn't even know his sister was here? And he never heard a thing about Mads coming over? How doesn't he notice these things? Glossing over the fact that Samson was a thirteen-year-old kid more worried about video games than what his sister did, Brandon mulled the details, while looking out the kitchen window. Staring at the snow-covered backyard, the male half of the Cole twins noticed footprints in the snow that led from the patio to a fence gate directly across from him. Does one of Delilah or Samson's friends live on the other street? Or is someone sneaking out—"Fucking Madison!"

Brandon slammed his nearly empty can down onto the top of the kitchen table. Turning around, he sped toward the stairs in the front of the house. As he did, Sammy exited the bathroom.

"Damn, I needed that. Hey, what's wrong?"

"Which room is your sister's?" Brandon questioned as he raced past him.

"Uh, the back one on the right. Is something the matter?"

"Don't worry about it!" Brandon moved faster. Reaching the front foyer, he turned and started up the stairs. "Madison!"

Almost halfway up, Brandon saw Delilah at the top, about to descend. She looked startled to see her good friend's brother rapidly climbing the stairs as he yelled her name.

"Brandon, what's wrong?"

"Where's Madison? Don't you people have a back stairway around here?" he questioned as he reached the three-quarter mark of the stairway. "Is this study session all a lie?!"

"Whoa! Stop right there," Delilah commanded, spreading her arms out to block him from getting past.

"Out of my way, Delilah! I want to know where my sister went to!"

"I'm right here, doofus!" Madison stated calmly.

"No, where have you really been?" Brandon challenged, peering down the upstairs hallway. "Is he here? Or did you sneak off to meet him?"

"No, you're not a doofus, you're a fucking dumbass," Madison remarked, pushing past her twin to start down the stairs. "God, I want to murder you in your sleep sometimes."

"I'll go check the rooms if you don't tell me!" her brother threatened.

"Oh, hell no," Delilah responded, crossing her arms, while still standing in front of the stairs. "You're not going through our bedrooms, Bran. What you need to do is stop acting crazy."

"If you won't tell me, then I'll tell Dad, Madison. I mean it!" Brandon loudly said down the stairs toward his sister's back.

"Do that, and I'll tell Mom what you did last night," she threatened back, not even bothering to turn around as she threw her coat on, and stomped outside. "Let's see how fast she turns Dad against you."

Brandon quickly descended the stairs, grabbed his jacket, and hurried off after his twin. Delilah sighed as she followed him. Peering out the door, she made sure that Madison got into the SUV before closing it.

"What's his deal?" Sammy inquired from behind his sister while sipping his can of root beer.

"He's still trying to control who Maddie dates," Delilah explained, facing her brother. "I hope you won't turn into that someday."

"As if I care who's trying to paw you," Samson chuckled. "I've seen what those knees can do to dude's dick. You're fine taking care of yourself."