Monday, April 27, 2009

(Untitled) Prologue, young adult fiction

(Untiltled) "The Football Book"
young adult fiction
By Annemarie Bogart

“I’m going pro,” Jasper Grady says defiantly. He takes a long swallow from the beer bottle not concerned with the liquid that drips down the sides of his jaw onto his leather football jacket. “All the way,” his hand emphasizing his point sailing through the air like a jet plane cutting through sky.
“Sure,” his friend Rusty says jokingly from the front seat of the old pick-up. “Hell, this town got you guys head filled with stuffing. Every year you’d think there was another pro coming out of this county.”
“This town… hell, this county… this state has never seen a team like me and Grady here,” Bobby says looking through the rearview mirror at his best friend in the back seat. Jasper catching his eye in the reflection nods solemnly in agreement.
“Damn straight,” he says tipping the bottle towards his best friend and quarterback in the driver‘s seat.
“You just pissed, you could never got to play,” Bobby laughs at his friend Rusty next to him in the front seat, taking a swallow from his bottle.
“Sure…rub it in,” Rusty says throwing his empty bottle out the window.
“Hey man, this is my fuckin property remember,” Jasper hits his friend on the shoulder.
“Sorry, man” Rusty says opening another beer as the pick-up flies up one of the many dirt roads of the property. “So whatta we gonna do tonight? Just drive around here getting drunk?”
“That’s the plan” Bobby says taking a drink of this beer.
“Hey, Grady,” Rusty looks into the back seat. “That Fall Dance is coming up soon enough…you finally gonna get the balls to ask out Sandy?”
Jasper hits his friend on the back of the head. “Fuck you, man…besides that dance is like two months away.” He looks out the window as his two friends break out into hysterical laughter.
“I’m sorry,” Bobby says attempting regain his composure for his best friend’s sake, “but we’ve been hearing you talk about her…well, shit, Rusty…you remember him not talking about her?” Bobby glances sideways at Rusty who nods guzzling back his beer.
“Well, Grady…he just has a point is all,” Rusty says shrugging his shoulders.
“Whatever,” Jasper says downing his beer. “Laugh it up.” He grabs another beer out of the bag next to him.
“Just fuckin ask her,” Rusty laughs. “So we can go on with our lives.”
“Yeah, I will,” he says steadily watching his friend get a little more risky on the winding turns. “Fuck, Bobby…there’s trees everywhere…slow down…”
“Take it easy, Jazz,” he laughs swigging from his bottle, “I’ve been riding these roads all my life with you…fuckin bikes, quads…like the back of my hand.” The truck takes a hard turn, the front tire hitting a rock.
“Yeah, Grady, since when you cautious about anything?” Rusty laughs turning to look at his buddy in the back seat.
“QB’s a shitty driver, Rust,” he grins sending Rusty into hysterics.
“What you say back there,” Bobby says turning around in the seat trying to swat his friend in the backseat. Jasper looks ahead …the darkness… the rumbling of the truck…the tree…the impact…just for a second…then blackness…

When Jasper awakes, he feels a dull ache in his shoulder. He’s no longer in the truck,, he's about ten feet from the truck in a patch of thick grass. He looks at the truck from the ground. Somehow the back door is ajar…Did he crawl out of there? Did it open during the impact? Did he jump out before impact? He is disorientated…not quite sure what is happening…Then it dawns on him.

“Bobby?” he yells trying to sit himself upright in the grass, his head spinning. “Bobby? Fuckin answer me, man.” He tries to get up but nausea waves over him and he remains on his knees. He crawls towards the pick-up. “Rusty!” he yells getting closer to the truck.
The pick-up appears to have gone head-on into the tree. He crawls to the driver’s side using the truck as leverage to help him up…fighting back the pain.
He peers through the open driver’s side window and see his friend leaning unmoving on the steering wheel.
“Bobby,” he yells shaking his friend’s shoulder which makes Bobby’s head fall back onto the seat. Jasper then sees the gaping hole in the windshield on the passenger’s side. Rusty is no longer in the truck. “Fuck!” he screams staring at the shattered glass blood clinging to its parameters. “Rusty!” he yells again, his head splitting.
“Jazz,” he hears Bobby whispers and Jasper looks at him. He is bleeding from the forehead. “My chest, man…I can hardly breathe.” Jasper looks wildly at the other side of the truck.
“I gotta get help, man,” he says quickly. “You’ll be okay here, Bobby…Fuck,” he pauses. He forcefully opens the door, “Come on,” he says leaning over his friend undoing his seatbelt. He tries to pull his friend out of the truck but manages instead to pull him on top of himself. They both hit the ground...hard.
“”Fuck, Jazz…what the fuck are you doing?” Bobby’s says holding his bleeding head.
“Look, I gotta get help and I ain’t leaving you in there in case it blows or something. Look pull yourself back as far as you can.. I gotta find Rusty.” Jasper gets up slowly steadying himself and runs around to the other side of the truck. He tries to follow the illumination of the head lights on the woods looking desperately. He walks into the bushes, scratching his face on a wayward branch.
“Rusty!” he yells waiting to hear any sound. Nothing. He steps forward and trips over something. In the dark he feels around. Moisture on the grass…he feels something solid…cloth… pants…a leg…Rusty. He can’t see him. The darkness is thick and the headlights seem to be shining above them.
He feels for his face…feeling a sticky hot dampness where there should be a face. “Rusty,” he screams trying to revive his friend. No response. He leans over him placing his head on his chest. No heartbeat. ‘Fuck, come on, man…be okay, Rusty…wake up,” he starts pumping his chest like he sees them do in the movies. Then he leans in to try to blow into his friend’s mouth…He tastes it… the unmistakable salty metallic taste…blood. He gets up tears falling from his eyes. He backs away quickly.
“I gotta get help,” he yells. “Bobby, you hear me?” he shouts over the truck.
“Yeah,” he hears his friend groan. “Where’s Rusty, Jazz?”
Jasper ignores the question, “I’m going to get help…stay put, Bobby. I’ll be back soon with help, okay. Just stay put,” Jasper yells and runs back to the road… He runs like he has never run before. He needs to get back to his house, needs to get help.
Fifteen minutes later, Jasper crashes through his front door.
“Dad!” he screams up the stairs. “I need help!”

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