Lining Up The Blueprint/ An Abundance of Jon's/ John Green Pun

         

Paul and I  ( a great friend of mine )  at the time hardly spent any time apart at all. Our home room classes were the same, as were our class periods, not to mention recess preferences and lunch seating. Not that I really had any preference, but quite quickly I learned it was much more fun to join him for soccer out on the playground and attempt free-flowing chats at lunch than sitting alone all the time. I had had enough of that. When P.E. came around, or teams were picked, we always tricked and plotted to get ourselves onto the same team. And by we, I mean he used his influence to bend and twist picking rules.

"Backhand!"
"Power hit!"
"Bertha!"

        Those right there were our play calls. In soccer. Play calls... in soccer. Yeah, I know, they make absolutely no sense on multiple levels. But who cares we were kids you know? These plays weren't particularly clever either, and most often resulted in me taking a ball to the head. A common event of that time. It's funny to me now, because all of these calls were the names of abilities in this Incredible Hulk video game we played together over the weekends. Or more realistically, any time we weren't at school. And we bonded over it. Probably the best laugh I ever had in my elementary years was when one day out on the fields, 1 minute left in recess as the teacher's whistle signaled, it was a tie game. Paul and I were piecing together give-and-go's over and over, working down the field until about 15 yards away from the enemy goal. The time for our signature play had come! "Backhand, Backhand!" As rehearsed, I charged forth, faked a shot, then tapped the ball behind me as good ole' Paul came in with his legendary boot... But good ole Paul didn't quite deliver. Rather, I received a ball to the dome at cougar speeds. So of course, everyone drops down laughing, but for prides sake, we had to deliver the play. For the fans back home. So what do I do? I regain control of the ball, line up the play, and once more set up the shot. And once again, good ole Paul swings. Having learned from past mistakes, I ducked as fast as I could, only to take a canon ball to the kidney. It hurt so bad, but at this point I ( and any other witnesses ) was laughing so hard at our blunders I absolutely lost it and literally rolled on the ground laughing. Those were the days. But this day marked the beginning of yet another chapter of my life, only weeks after Paul's party. When things get rolling, they really get rolling.

        Two very important people were present at the time of mine and Paul's prime show of athletic prowess. Jon and Jon. Which I guess sounds like some dumb story-like coincidence, but it's true. We just go by last name now. Irrelevant. Anyway... The two became regulars in the soccer scene and for some reason or another, Paul wasn't around one day, so I was paired with them. I knew he was sick or something, or at least that's the rumors of his fans in our classes seemed to believe, but I found myself going out to recess none the less ( hooray for personal growth ). Across the black top, down the hill and past the portables, I met with Jon and Jon. Team mates of mine from the aforementioned game. I did not greet them, nor did I really respond when they greeted me, because I did not know how, but one thing lead to another, and somehow they ended up taking me under their wing and teaching more about this sport I had only recently discovered. The curriculum was rigorous, starting with dribbling drills and learning to not look at my feet. A weird concept for me, because I had habit of looking down at all times. But that changed. And I got better. Before long, what started with a lesson here and there became a sort of camp for me on a daily basis, and when Paul came back he taught along with them. And so this went on until one random Thursday my friend and I, whilst battling Naruto action figures in his pool, realized that while there were only two of us, perfectly happy as can be, we had four toys total. Two of which alone craving attention. And we knew just the people to change that. So that very afternoon, talking with his family encased in the aroma of french barbecue against the backdrop of a springtime sunset, a sleepover was proposed, passed and set for Friday.
 
        Long story short, the day was great. There was such an astounding feeling of newness that lapped at me in waves. With each shared detail, or collective laugh, or group activity we carried out. Eventually the activities ran out, but the fun did not. They were everything I hoped other potential friends could be, but I still had my reservations until the night came and they truly proved themselves. That night, following routine, Paul and I outlasted the others, waiting until it was safe to begin one of the first of many future talking sessions, when we noticed the other's breathing had quickened. They were awake. Passing a frantic glance we went silent as they rose and, without skipping a beat they began to share their lives with us. Astonished, intrigued, and even a bit uncomfortable, I saw in them the same potential for a bond that I did in Paul, and thus the pair became a group. "And then there was four"