thewordofweb

"This is not a spectator sport."

Blair was firm in this. Trying to talk her out of it was looking for some sort of fight or argument or really a whole host of bad decisions. This was not something you wanted to get into with her. It was best to just surrender. Smiling prettily, she tilted her head. "It isn't a racetrack, we're not betting on horses or dogs, this is hockey. You play, unless lack of limb prevents you."

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"Blair, it's not Fight Club rules," Serena pointed out, eyes rolling as she leaned down to retrieve one of the hockey sticks. Even so, she glanced over to the guy B'd brought out to the field, Kenyon. She didn't really know him, but Blair liked him well enough that it had only been a matter of time before Serena knew who he was. "Although it's usually easier if you just give in, believe me."

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"She may be stubborn, but I'm a Webster and considering who I'm dating, stubborn is my trademark," I say with a flash of a saccharinely sweet smile in Blair's direction, draping an arm around her shoulder. "Blair, my wounds hurt. Does that count?"

Nevertheless, I grin at the newcomer. "And you must be Serena. I've heard endless amounts."

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"No, if anything that means you have to rise to up to expectations." Blair laughed, shaking her head, and leaning into him slightly as she waved a hand in an introductory manner.

"Yes, yes, this is the infamous Serena. She's a van der Woodsen and a Rhodes. That sort of thing."

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Switching the hockey stick to her other hand, Serena extended her free one for a handshake, smiling warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, at long last," she said. "I hope that's the rare kind of 'infamous' that means something positive." No matter how long she spent away, time on the island couldn't dull the society polish she'd long since perfected for times when she felt it was worth bothering.

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"Well, it's probably about half and half," I note, feeling no reason to lie to her as I shake her hand, managing the sort of charming smile my mother always taught me to wear at functions. Another loll of my hair in Blair's direction and I stare at her hopelessly. "Cheerleader? Skinny will laugh so much less if I'm at least a cheerleader. I didn't go to Harvard to wear kneesocks, short skirts and wield sticks, prinzessin."

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"No, I'm certain you went to Harvard do to just that, Kenyon darling," Blair laughed, wrinkling her nose as she rolled her eyes, looking to Serena for support. "Don't you agree, S? Isn't being a cheerleader more humiliating than playing?"

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"Hey, we were cheerleaders," Serena pointed out, laughing a little. "For, like, two games, but still." The reason for football having come to an end, though, occurred to her again, sobering, and she faltered just a moment. "But it's true. Playing's way more fun than standing on the sidelines."

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"Does this mean you've faltered under her great benevolence and are playing, too?" I inquire, as curious minds do. "If I'm to be coerced, made to be laughed at by my boyfriend and best friend, will I at least have the immunity shield of a pretty blonde?"

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"Of course she is. Serena is my best friend." This required to further explaination on the part of Blair, who thought that anything else was just fluff. It was, really, pure ridiculousness made up by more unfortunate people. "Cheerleading was kind of like a bad hangover. You have it, you moan for a bit and then it's gone."

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Serena wanted to point out that this was at least in part because most of the football team was gone - or the part that had mattered - but dwelling was not on her to do list for the day. Waving it off, she just smiled and nodded. "I'm definitely in," she said. "It'll be nice to have one more way to pass our days, you know? And it's a lot of fun. Have you played before?"

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"Field hockey? Me? No," I say with enough condescension in my voice to smother a whole team. "I was slightly busy learning literature at Harvard before going off to fight in the war," I point out with a drawl, pointedly in Blair's direction. "And I played baseball, not field hockey."

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"Ugh, baseball. I can get behind football or lacrosse or tennis, but baseball?" Blair grimmaced, having none of it and wishing to wipe her hands of the entire thing. It was kind of wretched and definitely tasteless. She wasn't going to think about how with the loss of some many people football was gone and tennis and lacrosse had never been here in the first place. "Then you have a lot to learn."

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"Good thing you've us to teach you," Serena added cheerfully. "You couldn't learn from better. I bet you'll like it once you know the game." Though she didn't possess Blair's distaste for baseball, she couldn't really see the appeal either. But then, it was all a matter of to each their own, really, and at least the baseball teams still seemed to be going along just fine.

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"It's not the playing I'm worried about, it's Joe and Skinny when they see me playing a woman's sport. No offence meant, but I'm from the forties," I remind the both of them. "We definitely have sports that are meant for men and women in separate distinctions."

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"Oh, like I could forget."

Blair considered herself to be an expert on knowing how these things were, though she definitely preferred the fifties and the sixties with Audrey and Grace.

"You'll be fine. This is a pseudo modern tropical island. They'll cope."

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"If they can cope with the other changes, I think one little game isn't going to turn their worlds upside down," Serena added cheerily. "Besides, it's not like we're making you wear a skirt. Right, B?" She sincerely hoped not anyway. There was a limit to the weirdness.

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I turn my head in anticipatory horror, slightly affronted at even the smallest of possibilities in that I might be wearing a skirt. "Don't you dare, Blair," I warn simply. "No one needs the sight of that at a game, trust me."

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She rolled her eyes at the both of them for even thinking that she would do such a thing. "Of course not. I have my limits you know."

And cross-dressing during sports just happened to be one of them.

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"See?" Serena said. "Guaranteed safety from skirts." She held out the hockey stick toward him, smiling sweetly. "So shall we teach you?" There was no one on the island better to learn from, she was sure. It was more Blair's sport than hers, but it felt good to have something to put her hand to again.

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I give something of a weary look to the both of them, knowing I'm helpless. "Fighting you is like fighting Annie. Useless. At least you both aren't intent on playing doll with me," I half-murmur to myself. "Okay. Let the teaching commence. How is this sport played, Blair Waldorf style?"

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"Dirty." Blair stated, matter-of-factly. It was true. The rules were there, written out and to be followed so that they could be refereed, but they were made to be broken. Everything else was just second hand. "There are two teams, two goals. Are you will be so far?"

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"You've got eleven players on each team," Serena added, "which means we'll have to do a lot more lessons, 'cause I doubt there's twenty-two people here familiar with the game. And like pretty much all ball games, the point is to get to the goal - which, yes, when Blair's playing, sometimes means playing dirty." That was, admittedly, half the fun.

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