A big thank-you goes out to MyLittleSongbird for editing on extremely short notice. I do not own any part of the Transformers franchise, but I guess the random supporting people are mine.

The Unusual Normal

The game was just for fun. It was a scrimmage with the boys' team to raise awareness about gender equality. We were tied, yet the ball was on the opposite end of the field for the majority of the game. My defensive line barely broke a sweat thanks to the forwards' skill, power and teamwork.

It was early evening, 23 days and 10 months since the Chicago event. Well, it was really the world's event.

The ball came down the left side of the field from the keeper's kick. I back up ready to run and defend the net, but it never got past our left D.

In a little more than 5 weeks, the town would have a memorial with a tree planted in memory of all who lost their lives in the attack. Just like almost every other town and city in the world. A family friend was on the planning committee. He was the one in the group that had a gut feeling ever since Mission City 4 and a half years ago.

"PAY ATTENTION!" What? Where's the ball? "Take the throw-in!" My supporting-mid yelled, popping the daydream bubble.

The Founders' Day Parade at the end of next week should have been the community's highlight of the year, just as it had been every year. How could we celebrate? So many people died. Still it would be nice to do something together as a town other than the fundraisers and food drives for those who lost so much. Not that it wasn't a good cause it was just… just that the depression was starting to seem permanent.

The game was not boring, it was simply too competitive. The boys' team was filled with much of my teammate's brothers, along with Thing 1 and Thing 2 (my younger, identical twin brothers). It made a deep desire to win at all costs on both sides. It was war.

No, Chicago was war. That is why we were not celebrating the "heroes". They supposedly felt as if it was their fault.

"Those damn aliens brought war to us," my dictator-of-a-grade-seven-teacher's voice echoed in my head.

It was challenged with our family friend's words, "The Decepticons wanted, want and will probably always want all of us swashed… dead." Could the… oh what were they called… Autons – AUTOBOTS! Yes, that's it. Could the Autobots not see that they won? That if they left... if they leave... we would be exterminated?

Crap! My crush was heading straight down my side. Rush up, slow down, back up with him, position… TAKE! I got up three quarters of the field to make the pass to centre forward. I turned around to stick out my tongue trying to be cheeky with him when the crowd roared! Oh hey we scored.

Right after the face-off the referee blew the half time whistle, pulling out groans from teams, parents and coaches alike for the waste of time. We sat on our bench and listened as Mr. MacScot praised us for having the lead before quickly pointed out what we could do better. He made a comment about staying alert and I knew it was directed at me. I went to nudge my friend, to roll my eyes at the remark, but she was not there. She had been when the soccer season started in 2009, but … for vacation that year, she as in France. We were told it was terrorism at the time and I was too… too broken to question the answer. They did not save her.

Getting back into position on the field, rubbing my eyes prevented tears from falling, but it did not stop my vision from blurring.

Dammit! Thing 2 had quickly passed me and sunk the ball into the top corner of the net and I had been in no way able to stop him. Stupid emotions.

Calmness came from focusing on the game, looking for the weaker players and remember our team's plays. Our forwards pass back the ball but it is too strong a shot. Rushing up to connect it with my foot made a surprising good kick. If the past says anything, the ball would not come back to our side for a while.

It was dark now; the game should be almost over. Maybe some stars would be out. The sky was a gorgeous and rich dark blue, only a few of the brightest stars appeared and they moved across the sky. If others saw they may had made a wish, but they started to look less and less like balls of gas burning billions of miles away… more like comets that were going to crash…

Full awareness or the perception of it is not a feeling humans usually know how to handle.

They caught on fire as they entered the atmosphere, yet they did not burn. The forest behind the boys' net was going to be a crash pad.

One word of warning would suffice for the intenseness.

"DECEPTICONS!"