Leo hunkered down behind a stack of weathered tires, his breathing loud inside his fogging mask. Across the clearing, his best friend-turned-rival, Jax, was pinned behind a rotting wooden crate. This was the final round of the regional tournament, and they were the last two standing.
When he reached the end of the trench, he was ten feet behind Jax. Jax was still focused on the oak tree, waiting for Leo to peek. PAINTBALL
Leo dropped to his stomach and began to slide. The mud was cold, soaking through his jersey, but he kept his eyes on the prize. He moved inch by inch, the sounds of distant shouting from other fields fading into the background. Leo hunkered down behind a stack of weathered
Jax looked down at the bright stain, then back at the mud-covered Leo. He dropped his marker and started laughing. "Man, you look like a wet golden retriever. But nice shot." When he reached the end of the trench,
Leo didn't finish. He lunged to the right, firing three rapid shots. Thunk-thunk-thunk. The neon orange paint splattered against the crate, missing Jax’s goggles by an inch.