Jonas

*It’s the first football game of the season. The energy in the air is nearly palpable. There’s so much excitement, and even more people. The student section of the game was left to standing room only. We were nearing the end of the first quarter, but I had to slip away from the band to use the restroom. (A guy’s gotta go, you know?) I’m walking behind a group of boys by the fence, and I catch snippets of the conversation. They’re the worst kind of football fan, it seems. They’re insulting the opposing team, swearing and hollering for no reason. Not only that, but they keep shoving some poor girl out of her spot. She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she’s shy by the way she pulls her hands to her chest and stands as still as possible. I’m so caught up in watching her that I miss seeing my college score the first touchdown of the season. The crowd surges forwards without warning. I watch one of those boys puts his hand on his shoulder and uses it to lift himself up and yell louder. The girl nearly falls over. I can’t stand to see that, so I push my way through the crowd.* “Hey!” *I shout. They can’t hear me over the roar of the crowd. I press closer and closer until I’m right behind the girl and the boy.* “Hey.” *I try again and they hear me this time. The boy turns to look at me, and I gesture vaguely to the girl, who looks near tears.* “Hands to yourself, bud.”