Jean-Paul. (du_nord) wrote in academy_x, @ 2010-07-03 17:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | chamber, mercury, northstar |
Who: Jean-Paul, Jono, and Cessily!
When: Early Saturday afternoon, after the Germany/Argentina match massacre.
Where: Out on the grounds
What: JP is in a celebratory mood and getting his soccer on.
JP hadn't even waited for the Spain/Paraguay match before going outside to celebrate. He didn't have anything riding on that match, was indifferent to both teams and fine with any outcome, but Germany was his favorite side in this World Cup and they'd just murdered Argentina. It was almost too easy, just like the team challenge on Wednesday had seemed, but he'd enjoyed the match nonetheless. (And, okay, part of that enjoyment might have come from watching Lukas Podolski's gorgeous thighs in action -- but that was completely reasonable and he was sure he wasn't the only one who watched with particular attentiveness when Podolski was on the screen.)
Soccer wasn't Jean-Paul's favorite sport to play, but he'd done a little of it as a child, and it definitely wasn't hard to pick back up again now that he was inspired to do so. He'd found a soccer ball that looked almost new, not yet all scuffed up from being kicked around, and taken it out to the long open stretch of grass behind the mansion. He might have asked someone to play with him, if it weren't that he didn't know whether anyone else in the school really enjoyed soccer; he'd talked to Jono about their teams a little over the internet, but he didn't know the British boy well enough to know whether he'd want to play. Thus, he was alone, at least for the moment. He didn't mind solitude. It was how it had been for years and years in his childhood, when he'd been moving from foster home to foster home to government center to foster home too often to really make friends anywhere, and being alone had always been better than fighting, as invariably ended up happening when there were neighborhood children who wanted to play. Young JP had been a little hellion, he'd readily admit, and he had not played well with others.
He was playing on his own, as much as one can play without any opponents, just kicking the ball around and enjoying his own skills. These weren't skills that would be useful on any team, of course -- he gave the ball a powerful kick, sending it soaring, and used his super-speed to dash along the ground to capture it again, trapping the ball against his chest, juggling it on his knee and ankle, and then spinning around to send it flying and start the whole process again. As far as solitary games went, it was fun, and he was in the middle of a juggle when he realized there was someone approaching.