Cole inched farther down the bench, hoping he wouldn’t be recognized. He had never made it past first cut and from what he heard, each round was more grueling than the last. He knew this time would be different though, there’s no way these guys trained as hard as he did. Cole left the locker room and joined the rest of the crowd on the court. Mimicking the others, he began stretching.
“All right all right gents, listen up!” Coach Connelly shouted. He was a barrel-chested man and carried a megaphone, but his voice was so loud he seemed not to need it. “Go ahead and start running laps. Watch out for the bleachers in the back corner, they’re stuck open at the moment.”
The whistle blew and the crowd dispersed to the perimeter of the court, forming a rectangular train of testosterone and squeaking shoes. Cole sprinted ahead, trying to pass as many people as possible. One lap, no problem. Two laps, too easy. On the third lap Cole was no longer passing anyone. By the fifth, he was now the one being passed. He could barely catch his breath as a cramp stabbed at his stomach.
“Control your breathing, dude,” said a short chubby kid who was slowly passing him.
The only way Cole could have caught his breath would have been to start walking, which was out of the question. He would be first cut for sure if the coach saw that. Where was the coach anyway? Shouldn’t he be watching this part? Cole lost track of the laps as well as time. After what seemed like an hour, Coach Connelly returned to the gym as the door slammed behind him, echoing throughout the gym. The whistle blared again.
“Now that you’re all warmed up, I want you to line up against the back wall there and get ready for jump drills.” Coach looked around at the group as they began to migrate towards the back wall. Cole couldn’t help but notice Coach’s gaze fall on him. “Some of you need to do a bit more running. Running is half of what you do during a game. A twenty-minute jog ain’t nothing compared to four quarters against a team like Pinkerton.”
Hot shame flood Cole’s already sweaty face. Twenty minutes! He could have sworn they had been running for at least twice as long. The next event should have gone much better since he had been practicing wall jumps too, though not after a twenty-minute run. Cole had to stop several times to catch his breath and wait for the burning in his calves to subside. Coach was definitely watching this one. The next event was-.
“Suicides! You know ‘em and we all love ‘em,” Coach Connelly barked. “Give me ten lines at the end of the court. Ready!”
The tryouts wore on for what felt like hours. After suicide-sprints, it was all Cole could do to keep himself upright. His training at the YMCA seemed childish. Even when it was time to shoot a ball he missed every time. When the final whistle blew he would have cried in relief if he had the breath.
“That’s enough, gents, that’s good for tonight,” Coach Connelly’s voice rebounded throughout the court. “Put the balls back in the rack and stack the cones up by the door please. And I’ll need two of you to hit this floor with a mop before you all go.”
Was that it? How would they know if they made first cut or not? Coach Connelly didn’t even know his name and it’s not like there was a sign-in roster. Confused, Cole placed a ball back in the rack and made a beeline for the man with the whistle.
“Um, excuse me. Coach Connelly, can I ask you something?” Cole said, suddenly noticing how soft his voice sounded.
“Sure, sure. What’s up?” Coach asked, punching the squealing megahorn into submission.
“I was just wondering how we, uh, I mean how will I know if I made the first cut? You usually tell us on the first night…” Cole’s voice trailed off at the end as he felt Coach Connelly’s eyes examine him from head to toe.
It was as if Coach could sense Cole’s lack of confidence. He took a step closer and put a heavy hand on Cole’s shoulder. “You’ve tried out every damn year for the last four years and you’ve never made first cut. Yeah, I remember you. That right there says something about a person. The fact that you get back on that horse and keep giving it everything you’ve got shows some spine. I wish my team last year had half the dedication you have. Tell you what, rest up and make sure you hydrate over the next couple days. I have a good feeling that you’re gonna make the first cut this year.”
Pride, something he was not used to feeling, blossomed in Cole’s chest. This could be it! This could be his ticket to friends, parties, meetups, and hopefully a girlfriend. Tired and sore as he was, Cole could barely sleep that night as he fantasized about his new life. When his dreams eventually came for him, he greeted them with a sleepy smile on his face.
A gentle nudging roused Cole the next morning. “Cole hon, wake up. It’s quarter to six already and if you miss the bus today you’re walking,” Tara’s voice swam into Cole’s mind as though from another world.
Cole stirred, feeling as if his brain were stuck in mud. Tryouts took more out of him than he thought they would. His legs seemed to be filled with rusty splinters. A groan escaped his drooling lips as he forced himself upright. But the prospect of walking to school was motivation enough to take his mother’s threat seriously.
“Cole honey, you look awful. And why didn’t you come say hi when you got in last night? I didn’t even know you were home. You weren’t up all night playing video games again were you?” Tara asked as she fixed Joshua’s pants. “Dammit Joshy why do you pull them up so high? Look at your belly button, see that? Put your belt right below your belly button.”
“No, I crashed right after I got in. I don’t even remember hitting the bed. Coach told me- ouch!” Cole gasped as he burned his finger pulling a pastry out of the toaster. His head was still foggy with sleep. “Coach said he thinks I’ll make first cut. I find out at lunch today when they post the list.”
“Cole that’s so great!” Tara chirped, quickly sipping her coffee. “I knew you’d do well this year. See, all that hard work you’ve been putting in is paying off. When’s the tryouts for the second cut?”
“Tonight,” Cole groaned through a mouthful of pastry. “I’m so banged up from last night though. My legs barely work. I don’t know if I’ll have it in me to survive tonight’s tryouts even if I do make first cut. Can I have some coffee? I feel like I could pass out.”
Tara gave Cole a suspicious look. Cole never drank coffee. “Yeah sure, I’ve got a little left in the pot. I wouldn’t worry about tonight, I know you’ll do fine after you loosen your legs up. And Coach Connelly sounds like a good guy. If he says you’re gonna make first cut then you’re gonna make first cut. Oh I can’t wait to go to your games!”
Cole smiled as he allowed himself to indulge in the idea of him playing a real game. “Mom, I wouldn’t get all excited yet. There’s still a third cut and a lot of these kids have been playing their whole lives. This one kid had to have been six-four, and he’s only a freshman!”
“I know you’re gonna make it this year, Colton. Call it ‘mother’s intuition’.” Tara set her coffee down and started fussing over Cole’s bed-head. “You need a haircut there shaggy. And you better run a comb through this before you head out. No one wants a slob on their team, especially when you have to wear an actual shirt and tie on game days. Maybe it’s time to retire this old hoodie?”
Cole shooed away his mother’s fingers as she picked and combed through his messy hair. He liked his old hoodie. He would never admit it, but having long messy hair was something the popular kids did, so Cole’s hair would be long and messy as well. Scowling, he pulled his hood over his head and yanked on the strings until only his nose poked out.
“Oh stop it! What, am I embarrassing you? Oh I forgot, it’s cool for teenage boys to look like teenage girls nowadays,” Tara gave her son a playful slap on the back of his head.
“Watch it old lady. What do you know about cool anyway? You’re what fifty now? When you were my age all the guys had girl’s hair and wore makeup for crying out loud. Hey!” Cole laughed as Tara’s hands made a loud thwap thwap on either side of his head. He pulled his hood off so he
could see the next blow coming.
“Excuse me, you little punk!” Tara exclaimed as she loomed over Cole. She was barely taller than he was sitting in his chair, but like all moms she had the ability to appear eight feet tall when necessary. “I’m a thirty-four-year-old bartender at a nightclub. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a decent idea of what all the cool kids are doing these days. Besides, you’ve never seen the way the light hits Brett Michaels on stage, and behind the stage.” Tara’s eyes shifted focus as she had clearly just left the kitchen for a moment.
“And that’s my cue to leave,” Cole snapped from his chair and grabbed his and Joshua’s coats. “You ready Bud?”
“Yahah! Cut your hair Cole!” Joshua giggled as he reached up and shook his hand through his brother’s very cool hair.
“C’mon Joshy I’m good, I’m good. Here, throw your coat on and let’s get going. Mom’s right, you look like an old man with your pants up so high.” Cole tugged Joshua’s pants down to an acceptable level, knowing full well they would go right back up to his chest as soon as they started walking.
“Bye, boys. Joshua be nice to your friends today, I don’t want another call about you being mean to Kyle.” Like every morning, Tara hugged and kissed both her boys goodbye. Her arms squeezed Cole a bit longer this morning as she whispered in his ear, “I know you can do it. Go show them.”
By the time Cole and Joshua arrived at the bus stop his legs did feel better, though he found that throughout the day he couldn’t get up from a chair without a moan slipping through his gritted teeth. He gave Joshua a pat on the back as he dropped him off at the special education classroom and rushed to his first class. If he was lucky he might catch Ashley in the halls, but his legs seemed determined to hold him back. To his fiery annoyance, Cole had somehow managed to make a wrong turn and lost several precious minutes. The early morning fog was still thick in his mind. The bell rang a full minute before Cole walked into Mrs. Webster’s class.
“You know you are not getting another freebee today Mr. Carter.” Mrs. Webster’s stout figure stood at the front of the class, who were all in their seats and now looking at him. “Attendance is ten percent of your grade. All you have to do is show up on time and you get a guaranteed ten percent. Pass your homework up after you find your seat.”
Cole stuttered something inaudible as he fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket. Hoping no one saw the heat radiating from his cheeks, he slumped into his seat. He knew he was late, she didn’t need to call him out like that. He shuffled through his backpack, pretending to look for his homework.
U.S. History never ceased to put Cole into a stupor, especially with the old woman’s monotonous, dry rant. Cole imagined she started every day off with a bowl of plain, flavorless oatmeal and a glass of bitter tomato juice. Just shy of ten minutes into the lecture Cole could feel his chin slipping off of his hand, as though his head was magnetically attracted to the desk. He shook himself awake and redoubled his efforts, but the old woman’s voice sounded like the back seat of his mom’s Chevy Lumina on the highway. Does she even need to breathe? How can she go on and on like that without pause? Cole jumped awake as the bell sounded the end of the class. He could hardly believe he’d dozed the entire period. At least he got some decent sleep though. He should be able to stay awake for the day now.
Mrs. Webster caught his arm on the way out of class. “Attendance isn’t just showing up on time you know. You have to actually sit through the whole thing. Do you have last night’s assignment?” Her eyebrows met, creating a wrinkled ‘W’ on her forehead as she accepted Cole’s vacant stare. “You’re not doing well in here, but I don’t need to tell you that. Bring it in tomorrow and I’ll only knock off ten points. I’m putting up some extra credit assignments on the website tonight. You should take a look at them.”
Cole shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder. “Mrs. Webster, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep through the whole class. Last night was basketball tryouts and it took a lot out of me. I’ll do the extra credit tonight before tryouts, I promise.”
Mrs. Webster paused as her face took on an irritated look. “You weren’t sleeping Cole, at least not in here. Your seat was empty. Just bring the assignment in tomorrow and get yourself to your next class on time.”
Cole mulled over Mrs. Webster’s accusation as he departed. How could she miss have missed him? He dismissed it however. Probably just old age getting to her. She was right about one thing, he needed to hurry. Not to his next class though, not just yet.
The halls of Stonebrook High School fell into no discernable pattern or design. Every freshman fell victim to its whimsical layout, as if the building was originally a mental institution designed to make escape impossible. The students’ complaints were often met by the rebuttals of older teachers who remembered the school as it was before its many additions. Cole had been late to every class for the first month of his freshman year, but he was a senior now, and knew the most efficient paths to navigate the school’s halls.
Cole nearly took a spill around a corner as his foot slipped on a puddle of what he hoped was water. He looked to a nearby clock. He only had another few minutes to get to where he was going, and then to class. He sped off as quickly as his sore legs would carry him, now accompanied by an annoying squeech coming from his left shoe. After he hobbled a few minutes, his knowledge of the school’s shortcuts paid off. Cole’s face broke into an irresistible smile as he came squeaking around the final corner.
“Oh, Ashley, what’s up?” Cole said, trying his best to appear as if he wasn’t out of breath.
“Cole!” Ashley returned his smile, stunning Cole somewhat. She seemed to have the ability to make him forget his own name when she looked at him like that. “How did tryouts go last night?”
“Not as bad as last year, and Coach kind of hinted that I made first cut. I’m not getting my hopes up too high but I think I’ll be taking part in second cut tonight.” The morning’s lingering torpor suddenly melted, as though her smile were made of straight caffeine. Cole’s eyes wandered as he took in her hair. It was almost black, fastened in a high bun held by two obsidian chopsticks. He walked his eyes down a free lock that bordered the left side of her olive-toned face.
Ashley didn’t seem to notice Cole taking inventory of her. “I knew it would pay off. All the training you’ve been doing. Not to mention you haven’t broken a bone in the last five minutes. You’re getting your body to where it should be.” She took his hand in both of hers, fingering his surgery scars. “You still can’t feel…”
“Yeah, nothing in between those two fingers. I’ve got almost full range of motion back in the index finger though.” Cole flexed his hand as she held it, massaging the scar that ran in between his first and second knuckles.
Ashley returned his hand with gentle grace, placing it over his abdomen as if it were still injured. “Well, keep massaging it like the doctor said. Break up the scar tissue. How’s Joshua liking his new classroom?”
Cole relished the lingering touch of her warm hands, though he wasn’t quite ready to change the subject to one that didn’t involve her massaging his scar. “Oh you know Joshy, he would be happy anywhere as long as he has somebody there talking to him. He’s got a lot more one-on-one time in this room, which is good but I don’t know if it will help him learn anything. Honestly I don’t know if he can learn much more. He seems to be stuck in the five-year-old stage.”
“Maybe he doesn’t need to learn anything else. If Joshua is happy with less than what we have, then maybe in a way he’s smarter than us. He doesn’t worry about what other people think of him, or how to get ahead. Joshua just loves. He practically radiates it.” Besides Cole, Ashley was the only person at this school who truly appreciated Joshy and what he had to offer. Cole couldn’t help the stupid grin that took hold of his cheeks. Ashley reciprocated with a grin of her own.
Cole felt a closeness to Ashley that he couldn’t describe with words, mostly because he would end up tripping over
his own tongue. His smile fell apart as he searched for the courage to change the subject to one he had been pining over for weeks; the Fall Ball.
“So I don’t know if you’ve got somebody in mind, I mean I’m sure you do, but have you given any thought to who you want to go to the Fall Ball with?” Cole held his breath and winced inwardly, preparing himself.
Ashley’s eyebrows met as she shifted her backpack higher up on her shoulders. “Yeah I’ve been asked by Kyle and Drew. They’re really cute and I’m friends with both of them. I don’t want to offend anyone, but I know I’ve got to make a choice. Who do you think I should go with?”
Something heavy and queasy fell from Cole’s chest down to his stomach. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in that predicament before. They’re both on the football team right? I’m pretty sure they are close friends.” An idea suddenly popped into Cole’s frantic mind. “Maybe…maybe you shouldn’t go with either of them. I’ve seen Kyle get into fights over girls, and Drew is known for trying to hook up on the first date. It may end up hurting their friendship if you go with either of them, you know?”
“That’s a good point, I didn’t think of it that way. But what else can I do? No one else is asking me.” Her look of concern changed into one of almost pleading.
An alarm went off in Cole’s head. This was it! This was his window, he just needed to push through his fear. “Well if, you know, you can’t decide in time. I’ll just go with you, all right? So no worries, you won’t have to go alone.” He could tell before the final word came out what the answer would be.
“Oh my God Cole, you’re too cute!” Ashley gushed.
Cute. Cole was being Cute. He certainly didn’t feel cute. He felt as if somebody had just tossed a bucket of ice water in his face.
When Ashley’s giggling subsided, her eyes lit with an answer: “I know what I’ll do though, yeah this will work. Sarah doesn’t have anyone yet so I’ll just ask her to go with me. Then the four of us can go double-date style and figure it out that night. Yeah that will definitely work.”
Saving The Dark Side: Book 1: The Devotion Page 4
