Here I was again. My turf. My field. My sanctuary. This was where I could let out all of my cooped up frustrations and emotions. I could be the me that I wanted to be here, but tucked away the rest of the time. The field was where I was meant to be and there wasn't anyone that could keep me off of it. This included the director of athletics at my school.

See, apparently it wasn't deemed "appropriate" to have a girl on the high school football team no matter the abilities of said girl. The director went a step further and said quite smugly, "Girls don't play football." HAH. Well, I almost felt bad for the guy after that. Saying it nicely, he practically sealed his fate with those four words. I suppose in the heat of the conversation he forgot who my father was or maybe he honestly didn't know with this being such a big high school and all. I was usually ashamed that my dad, Charlie, was the chief of police and it nearly always came back to bite me in the butt. So, you can imagine my surprise when I realized that this was something he might actually be able to help me with. Long story short, I was able to play on the grounds of gender discrimination because the school did not offer a girl's team as an alternative.

The compromise however, was that I could no longer be Isabella Swan, the chief of police's daughter, but had to go by an alias of being Charlie's nephew from Idaho... or was it Ohio? The director didn't want to ruin the spotless reputation his football team had with a girl player and I was good enough to play so the choices were limited. Anyways, it wasn't something that would be difficult, seeing as I was relatively new to the town other than summer visits away from my mom, making me virtually unrecognizable.

The director tried to point out the difficulty this would cause me with friends and whatever social life I might have been expecting. Well, that argument wasn't difficult to deal with at all. I'm not social and the only real friends I had were mostly dead and wrote famous pieces of literature that you would rarely be able to dig my nose out of. I liked my books. They were consistent and never disappointing. But my social life wasn't important at all if I got to do what I've always wanted to do (and my friends would always be home on my shelf when I got back anyways).

School was just like the one I went to back in Phoenix so junior year was nothing different for me except for the being-a-boy factor. It was easy enough to pull off though and I forgot many times that I was acting. My lack of curves helped, obviously, and I didn't wear make-up... ever. With my normal getup of a t-shirt, jeans, and ripped chucks, I only had to wear a hat to hide my hair under and I was good to go.

My name was Brandon Swan (I found irony in the initials) and was able to go a whole two weeks without talking to anyone. This included during practice, which might I mention was a bitch! I don't usually cuss, but it really was the best way to describe the silent torture I went through under the screaming figure of coach Riddear. I was a running-back and kicker on paper, but a receiver when they needed one at practice.

It was tough work but it was all worth it for this one moment, this once in a lifetime chance, this feeling. The game was about to start as we were warming up for the first game of the season to the music blasting from the speakers. They transitioned smoothly from "Crazy Train" by Ozzy to the Fox NFL theme. As the music echoed through my helmet I couldn't help the shiver that ran through my spine. It felt like I was there with the pro's and we were about to go out for the super bowl game. I envisioned myself walking out with the old St. Louis Rams to play the Tennessee Titans in 2000. As Marshal Faulk, Isaac Bruce, and Kurt Warner were smiling down at me my neck suddenly whipped to the side and I found myself on the ground with a very sore head.

In that moment I realized what it must feel like to be hit in the head by a truck... repeatedly. Okay, so I'm being a little dramatic with that, but it hurt. As I was admiring the panoramic view of the field from my position on the ground i felt more than saw someone come up behind me and two pairs of ankles surrounded me from the front.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry... uh... 81..?! Are you okay, man?" I was asked from the person behind me in an agitated voice. I heard a muffled guffaw and knew it was one of the big guys in front of me. 'Damn he had big shoes...' "Nice Eddie! You nail the poor kid with one of your bullet passes and you don't even help him up?" the big one said practically flinging me in the other direction with just a hand-up.

'Who th-' was all I had time to think until I looked up and realized Emmett Cullen and I were chest to chest. "Sht!" I managed to scream out as my thanks before back pedaling into another wall. 'I thought I was on a field! How can I keep running into-' I barely finished thinking before- "FUGH!" The wall had been a smiling Jasper Hale and I had had enough of pinball when I backtracked into another solid force. I looked up slowly through my facemask and managed a mangled yelp through my mouth guard before flat out sprinting to the benches on the sidelines.

'Of course, who else would I have run into, but Edward effin' Cullen? What kind of quarter-back is he to hit me, anyways?!' I continued to seethe to myself. I was still brooding over the real-life pinball incident when the coach ordered me out onto the field for the kick-off.

To say I was nervous would have been an understatement as I jogged out to the field with the rest of the kick-off team. My mind was reeling, I was gonna barf from nerves, and my legs felt like jello. Terrible trio of a combination when you're about to start the first football game of your life. I remember walking up to the ball and taking my steps back to line up with the rest of the boys. "Ready on the left?" I shouted to the five boys on my left. "READY!" they shouted enthusiastically. "Ready on the right?" I followed up with the other five. "READY!!" they bellowed almost trying to out-yell the others. 'Boys...' I thought and took my first step for the ball.

My mind suddenly went blank and I felt like I was simply a spectator in my own body and had no control over my actions. I was almost on auto pilot and everything around me was absolutely quiet. Nothing went in slow motion or anything creepy and sci-fi like that, but it was just an out of body experience. As soon as that feeling registered I kicked the ball and everything swept back into place as if someone had flipped a switch back on.

My momentum from the kick propelled me forward and I ran towards where I guessed the ball was going to go. I hadn't really thought about it too much before, but as I saw four men the size of bears running towards me to create a wall I couldn't help but notice how freakin' huge they were. My instincts snapped into place and I ran from them like Indiana Jones from that boulder. As I took a quick look behind me and saw them and the receiver behind them a mere foot away I panic-strikingly tried to take my next step only to feel in catch.

I felt my stomach drop as my face was about to be re-introduced to the ground for the second time within 12 minutes tonight. My fall should have been cushioned by my pads, but just as I hit the ground I was kicked in the side and had a mammoth fall on me. I felt all my breath squeeze out of my now seemingly squished lungs. As I slowly felt the mammoth get up I felt the prickling of my eyes and that horrible feeling that you were sucking in air and it just wasn't participating with your body. They called it getting the air knocked out of you. Well eff that, I didn't get knocked, I got fucking sat on by large, extinct, pachyderms!

Seconds later I got up with the help of Emmett again who seemed thrilled to explain in great detail just how I had managed to trip the other teams' wall and receiver with my own body. I was shocked to not only hear that the supposed mammoth was just five guys I had been accidentally dog piled by, but that they had only managed to gain 20 yards after the catch. This left their offense to start on their own 32 yard line, giving our defense much more working room.

Rubbing a sore spot on my back, I turned to the scoreboard to look at what must have been at least five minutes off the clock. In big red numbers it read 1 next to quarter and 11:46 remaining. I kicked, ran, was tackled, dragged back to the sidelines, and secretly cried a little... all in 14 seconds?! This was going to be one of the longest nights of my life.

AN: So, this is my first story up here. Lemme know what you think about it and I might continue with the story. Feel free to let me know about any ideas you might have too. I love other people's insight, so don't hesitate to let me know what you're thinking. :]