"Alright. The game's about to start. Hands in, everyone." Coach August announced. The horde of twelve kids put a hand each into the huddle. "One, two, three!"

"Tsunamis!" they all cried out. Most of them were rather enthusiastic about it, though there were some exceptions.

As should probably have been expected, one of these exceptions was Aaron. He wasn't even going to be playing in the first quarter, so he headed back to his moms and sister and sat in the fabric chair. Markie, dauntless in even the most frustrating of circumstances, jogged to his position as striker and stuck a thumb out with a cheesy grin. Aaron couldn't help but wave back and smile ever so slightly. But it faded quickly. Lizzie smirked and gave Aaron a fond shove. "Don't worry, dummy. You guys'll win this time, I know it."

He didn't answer. He just knocked against his shin guard with his other foot. Mommy rubbed his head. "I'm proud of the two of you just for trying." She ran a finger through his hair.

The words in Aaron's head– "I want to quit"– stayed there. The twins had already tried more than one sport. Baseball. Volleyball. Tennis. The twins sucked at all of them, and moved on from each quickly. Lizzie played golf, and was good at it, and loved it. So Aaron felt some sense of duty to try and stick it out this time. Moms wanted them in a sport.

The whistle blew. One of their teammates performed the kickoff to Markie, who took off with it. Markie was the striker not because he was particularly fast, but because he was small; tiny kids aren't suited for goalie or defense, and striker required far less running than midfield. Aaron wasn't sure how much Markie understood it, but his placement– as well as Aaron's as goalie– was damage control. To his credit, though, Markie was a little better at this one than the other sports. He was good at making and receiving passes with the midfielders. Of course teamwork was his strong suit.

Halfway toward the opposing team's goal, one of their midfielders shoulder-checked Markie, making him stumble a couple inches from the ball. But since there was no elbow contact or tripping, it wasn't considered a foul. Aaron scowled as the opposing team– the Comets, they're called– swiped the ball and charged the Tsunamis' defense. He always wanted to read a book during the two quarters when he'd be out, but he held back every time, because Markie would be sad if he didn't watch him play. The kid who pushed Markie passed to his teammate, who wound up shooting. The goalie caught it, to everyone's relief— at least one game had started with the other team scoring in the first three minutes. The Comets had possession for most of the quarter, wearing down the goalie and gaining two goals, but every time the Tsunamis had it, they tried to make it count. One of the midfielders managed to pass it to Markie at the best possible moment, securing them a goal. Markie's spirits lifted immeasurably, and the cheers of his family and friends made him feel pumped up. But right when he really felt like he was getting into it, the whistle blew. The quarter was over. And the Comets were still ahead 2-1.

He stepped over the edge of the field, slapping hands with Aaron as he headed onto it. Someone handed Markie his water bottle, and he accepted it eagerly before sitting down. He took needy gulps. Lizzie gave him a sisterly pat on the head as reward for the goal, but the whole family could see the slightly disappointed sag in his shoulders. "You should've asked your coach if you could play again this quarter!" Lizzie pointed out.

"No... cause then I'd be out the whole second half. And I know Coach doesn't like it when Aaron and I are playing at the same time." He also just didn't want to speak up against an adult, and Lizzie knew this, but she let it slide.

Aaron gave Markie a stoic thumbs-up, reciprocating his twin's earlier action and cheering him up a bit in one fell swoop. But then he rededicated himself to watching the ball. In this quarter, both teams scored more points than before— a better striker had taken Markie's place, but Aaron wasn't quite as good of a goalie. He wasn't very good at talking to his teammates and letting them know where he was going to throw the ball, either. He did have clean movements whenever they had a goal kick, though. It wasn't all bad. When he made a particularly impressive catch, the crowd cheered for him. It didn't make him smile, per say, but his golden eyes gained an edge of determination that hadn't been there before. From the steely gaze, Markie knew he'd been taking it seriously from the beginning. But he wasn't necessarily happy to be there. Markie watched Devin, the other striker, and felt a bit of envy. He was so fast and nobody pushed him around. He was cool. Well. Markie just had to be like all of those sports movies. "Go beyond his limits." But those sports movies never actually told him how, other than to try harder— and Markie was always trying his absolute hardest. Once again, the whistle blew. The Comets had increased their lead— 5-3. But on the bright side, it was halftime.

This was always Aaron's favorite part, because there was fruit. Today, the parent in charge of snacks brought oranges. The brothers sat next to one another and munched in a contented silence as Lizzie did some impromptu cheerleading for them. Markie found it genuinely inspiring. Aaron wanted to laugh, but choked it down. Even so, the smirk on his face made Lizzie stick her tongue out at him. They teasingly shoved each other before the twins huddled in with the rest of the team again. Coach August basically told them what they already knew. Though a couple of players were shifting positions, Markie was back in as striker and Aaron was back out. But, of course, they'd switched sides.

He was a little happier this time because of the oranges, though. And he allowed himself to daydream a little about the snack bags they'd all get at the end. Sometimes they had cereal treats, or a small baggie of chips. And Gatorade! Aaron personally hoped for a Glacier Cherry one.

Then, snapping him out of his reverie, Markie was once again knocked aside. Aaron grunted at the lack of a foul call. Lizzie rolled her eyes; Aaron found solace in the fact that Lizzie shared his feelings. This time, Markie recovered a little faster and managed to get the ball back, which had Mom and Mommy absolutely tickled.

Shortly thereafter, the Tsunamis were granted a throw-in. One of their teammates took it and threw it up the left wing. A different midfielder named Bailey got possession and raced up toward the goal. When the Comets pressured him a little too much, Markie called out for a pass, and it was successful. He got a bright grin on his face and charged, making it all the way into the 18-yard box, and then he was tripped. It was slick and sneaky, but, thank GOD, the referee caught it. A penalty kick was rewarded, and Coach August let Bailey take it, since he was more likely to score. Aaron looked to his mothers; their joy was starting to be muffled by concern and seriousness. Mom was wearing the face that she wore when she knew she had to punish one of them but wasn't sure how bad it should be.

Their teammate took the kick, and the goalie barely missed it. Everyone's parents cheered. Markie grappled Bailey in a hug before everyone prepared for the Comets' kickoff. As soon as he stopped celebrating his team's success, though, he frowned. Despite the goal, he was starting to become discouraged. Aaron's fist's clenched even as Lizzie gave him a rallying cry.

Aaron was angry now. Coach August didn't even let Markie take it?! Not only were those loser kids picking on his twin, but their coach wouldn't even let him use the penalty kick he got to make up for it?! He stewed in his own feelings, tuning out the game by accident. Markie kept looking that way; the death glare with which Aaron was affixing the boy who tripped him with was beginning to make Markie sincerely nervous. Mom and Mommy could tell that he was having trouble staying focused. He missed a pass headed his way and then later made an offside pass without thinking. Coach August called out to him to recover and get his head back in the game. He nodded eagerly, but felt his stress levels rising substantially. This wasn't fun anymore.

Before Aaron knew it, he was on his feet, shaking with an impotent rage. He'd never so badly wanted to hit anyone before. He didn't really know what was holding him back. After a minute of this, he could feel someone staring at him and whipped around to direct his annoyance toward Devin, who looked weirded out in response. Aaron felt miserable— the team already didn't like him very much because he was moody and quiet (actually just shy)— and now this was making it worse.

Lizzie, in spite of being just as righteously furious on Markie's behalf, noticed the way that Aaron bit his lip and grabbed his arm. She scowled at Devin; he quickly looked away after being hit by a double-dose of intimidating Romwell siblings. This wasn't enough to satisfy the older sister, though. She wanted blood, and opened her mouth to start screaming insults at everyone and everything.

Before a single word could leave it, though, Mom clapped a hand over it. "Kiddo, I understand. We're frustrated, too. But yelling what's in your head right now won't make anything any better for your brothers." After a few moments, she trusted Lizzie enough to remove the hand.

"Fine," she conceded, not feeling the slightest bit better.

"Sweeties... Oh! What if we buy all of you some ice cream from the cart once the game's over? You all deserve it," Mommy proposed. Mom gave her a wary look, but ultimately didn't protest.

Usually, ice cream could drag Aaron out of any bad mood. But right now, he just couldn't be happy. He slid onto Mommy's lap and curled into a ball. She wrapped her arms around him. "I tried, Mommy. I wanted to like a sport."

"I know, honey. It's alright."

Mom gave him a look of concern. "If Markie wants to keep playing after this game, would you stick it out?"

He couldn't answer. And that was terrifying.

In spite of trying his absolute hardest to pay attention to the game, Markie caught a glimpse of his family. Lizzie was kicking at a patch of grass with a pout, and Aaron was being cuddled by Mommy. Mom smiled at him and he could barely hear her yell out, "Keep going!" So he did. But now he was sure. Not a single one of them was happy. In time, the whistle blew. Markie tried not to drag his feet and show how upset he was, but it came out anyway through his mere lack of joy. When all was well in Markie's world, he skipped or twirled or hummed. Now, he walked mildly off the field, accepting his water.

"I have to go to the bathroom. Sorry I can't watch you play the whole time, Aaron!" he apologized.

His twin grabbed his shoulder and squished it firmly. "I'll fight valiantly in your honor. I am a fierce knight."

Somehow, in spite of it all, this got Markie to giggle. "You'll do super great!" Noelani took Markie to the bathrooms. Luckily, they were empty; he'd used it as an excuse to cry without doing it in front of everybody. It would just take a minute... just a minute.

Aaron was playing with an intensity that nobody had ever seen out of him. His pain tolerance and stamina were usually pretty pitiful, but he was high enough on adrenaline and vengeance to not even notice how tired he was getting. His teammates were pretty stunned with how much he took charge, too; for almost all of them, this was the most they'd ever heard him speak. Hell, it was the most he'd ever made eye contact with them. Every time the Comets got the ball near enough to the goal to even consider shooting, Aaron was beyond prepared. Coach August kept trying to cheer him on and praise him, but he glared back each time. He wanted to stick up the middle finger– he didn't know exactly what it meant, but he'd learned at school that it was insulting. Still, he behaved himself. It would've looked goofy with the bulky gloves anyway.

Besides, he wasn't doing this for any of them. It was all for his family. They were proud and stunned by him. That was what mattered. Somehow, the Tsunamis managed to squeak out one last goal before the game ended.

When the whistle blew thrice, Aaron stood there in shock before his knees buckled from exhaustion. 5-5. A tie. The first game of the season that they hadn't lost. The team moved to swarm him, but he held his arms out firmly, rejecting any physical contact. They were all sweaty and he was still pissed and he could hardly breathe. Markie offered a hand to him, which he accepted. His legs were a bit wobbly, but they made it off the field and then went through the celebration-tunnels that the parents were always forced into making. Having been on his best behavior all day, Aaron did dodge the high-five from specifically the player who'd tripped Markie, but Markie himself gave a disapproving grunt toward his twin's pettiness. He didn't want Aaron being rude, but he had to admit that he did feel rather protected.

He also refused to put his hand in for the final cheer, but relaxed a little when given a snack bag. They could be for later. Now, he intended to hold Mommy to her promise. Markie was delighted to hear about the ice cream. Once both boys had their treats, Mom cleared her throat. "Okay, kids. I need to know. Do you feel supported by your team and coach?"

Aaron strongly shook his head. Markie hummed and hawed, considering this. "Mmm, kinda! I like the team, and they like me. But they're not very nice to Aaron."

Mommy aired out her own grievance, taking everyone by surprise. "And Coach August takes this far too seriously. They're eight." Lizzie nodded at this.

Mom took control of the impromptu family council again. "Are either of you boys up for continuing to play?"

Aaron looked to Markie, shrugging apathetically. Markie couldn't look Mom in the eye. "Sorry, Mom. I can finish the season, probably."

"Sorry..." Aaron reiterated.

"Ah, don't give me those looks. It's okay." She thought very hard. "Well. I want you kids to stay active. But maybe it's time to stop making you try to find a sport."

Markie's eyes lit up. "Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you! I promise we'll swim in the ocean SO much! We'll be SO active!" Aaron hooked his arm around Markie's in agreement, smiling wider than he had all day.

And thus, the tortuous sports journeys came to an end with a bang.