by H, Caity
I shook myself mentally to get rid of the thought.
“I’ll miss you, too, Lex.” She patted my chest with a hand, leaving it there a few moments, curling her fingers into my shirt. “But we’ll still see each other all the time.” I doubted that very much. “We both know Desmond will need help with any English homework.”
I laughed, nodding my head. He would call Honeybee the second he had English homework. Suddenly, I wished I’d gotten a dorm with him. Alastair was nice, but he didn’t have any ties to Honeybee. Desmond was her friend, my roommate was a stranger. Then again, I could always ask her for help with homework. Maybe I’d even ask her if she wanted to study sometime.
“But don’t worry, okay? We’ll still see each other all the time,” she promised, letting go of my shirt and placing her hands in her lap.
I held out my pinky to her, smiling when she laughed. Her pinky wrapped around mine, both of us tugging to make sure it stuck.
“You’re such a child sometimes.”
“You love it,” I replied, shooting her a wink.
The ground was starting to hurt my backside, and the last thing I needed was to walk into practice the next day with sore bones. I stood up, offering Honeybee a hand. She took it, and I pulled her up, dropping an arm around her shoulder.
The sudden, glaring light of her phone made me shield my eyes. “Do you have the brightness level set at blinding?” I asked, turning my head away from her phone. It was only when I saw the picture on her screen that I forgot to care about how bright it was. The lock screen on her phone was of us. Our graduation gowns, hats, and diplomas. Our arms were locked around each other, large grins on our faces.
“I use it to see at night. If I had it set on dim I’d trip and break a leg,” she replied, her face covered in white light from her phone. Her eyes looked so blue.
“Then you’d lose the bet,” I said, pulling the phone from her hands. It was nearing midnight according to the time scrawled across the top of the screen.
“And that would suck,” she mumbled, taking the phone back.
“Does your dorm floor lock down at any time?” I asked. I knew lights out for her building was ten p.m., as we’d barely walked out the doors when the lights in had dimmed.
Honeybee checked the time again, which had moved a single minute since she’d seen it last. “I should probably get home,” she murmured. “I told Rachel I’d be late, but I don’t wanna risk making her mad on our first night as roommates.”
I slid my arm from her shoulders, taking her hand instead. “I’ll drive you back over.”
She followed me off the rooftop and back into the building. The floor levels were darker, the lights having dimmed at midnight. There were still some people up and milling about in the hallways. Guys were talking and getting to know the dorms next to them.
Alastair was awake, sitting on the floor across from the guy in the room opposite of ours. I gave him a nod as we passed.
“I’ll be back in a little bit,” I told him. If Honeybee had told her roommate she’d be late to be courteous, maybe I was supposed to do the same. Not that it looked like Alastair was headed to bed any time soon.
“Alright, man.” He waved at Honeybee before returning his attention back to the guy in front of him.
***
The doors were locked when we arrived, and she had to dig her key out of her purse. Purses always seemed to be a death traps for small objects. Mom had a big purse when I was younger. It used to take her ten minutes sometimes to sift through the pile of junk that had accumulated in her purse and find whatever she’d been looking for.
When Honeybee found her keys she looked up at me. “Thanks for the root beer float, Lex.” Her arms wrapped around my neck, and mine around her waist. We hugged tightly for a few moments, neither moving to let go.
I released my grip and she slid from my arms. “Text me tomorrow and let me know how things go.”
She nodded, absently fidgeting with her keys. “I will, and same to you, mister. Updates on all the jocks and hot girls.” Despite what she said, I knew she didn’t want to know about hot girls, just like I didn’t care to know about the guys in her classes. I wasn’t entirely sure if that was normal for friendships.
“Goodnight, Lex.”
“Sweet dreams, Bee.”
She slipped inside the building, waving before she disappeared from sight.
I got back in my car, heading back to Bartlow. To my new home. I still couldn’t believe I was a freshman in college. It was unreal.
Nine: Red Shirts
It was around seven thirty in the morning of my first day that I realized not unpacking some clothes had been a tragic mistake. As it turned out, I needed clothes to wear. All of which were packed away in my bag. Clearly I was ready for college and all the planning and work it took to succeed.
It’d be a miracle if I survived the first semester.
“If I break my alarm clock, do you think time will stop and let me sleep?” Alastair groaned from his bed. He fumbled around, looking for his alarm clock without lifting his head.
I was at the foot of my own bed, searching through my bags to grab some clothes. Soccer practice didn’t start until four that afternoon. I wouldn’t have to get my gear together until later. I had a feeling the first soccer practice would be worse than the first day of class.
“It might be worth a try, I guess.”
He sighed, shoving his head further under the pillows. “Tell my professors I was throwing up?”
“Because who would ever assume you got wasted the night before school and now have a hangover, great idea,” I said and pulled on a pair of jeans. Next I pulled on a shirt and shoes.
“I don’t think I can do this.” He flopped over in his bed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I think I’m coming down with the flu.”
I smirked and tossed a balled up shirt at him. “Get up, Alastair. Haven’t you been through this stuff before?”
He nodded, groaning at the effort it took to sit up. “Yes, that’s why I don’t understand why I have to go. I know the drill. Go to new classes, meet the teachers, and do my homework. I’d prefer to sleep in.”
“We all would,” I replied, covering my mouth with a yawn. I hadn’t been up this early in weeks. Months, even. It was painful and bright and wrong. I hated mornings, and there would be a lot of early ones over the next few months.
“Why do they make us get up early?” he wondered, stifling a yawn as he flopped out of bed, feet landing heavily on the ground. “Why can’t college start later in the afternoon?”
“At least you don’t have soccer practice perfectly timed so it’ll be a million degrees outside when we start,” I mumbled, ruffling my hair.
“I can’t believe I got stuck with a jock,” he mumbled, pulling some clothes on. “If I get stuffed in a locker, will you stick up for me?”
“You’re the upperclassman, remember?” I asked, glancing at my watch to see how much time I had left before I needed to get to class.
Ten minutes.
“I’m a skinny ginger, you think being an upperclassman makes a difference?” he raised an eyebrow, gesturing to himself. He was pretty skinny, skinny enough that he might’ve actually fit into the lockers. But he was too tall, and I was pretty sure we didn’t have lockers.
“Later nerd, I’ll bring you my homework.”
He muttered a few choice words under his breath as I left.
I made my way to my first class, Introduction to Business. The teacher wore a suit and his hair was plastered against his head with way too much product. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.
***
The majority of the first class sessions were talking about the future, and what we would cover in the class, how best to succeed, where to find tutoring, and etcetera. I was dead, courtesy of boredom, by the time I finally managed to drag myself back to my room after my last class.
I quickly changed into shorts and a t-shirt, tossing my cleats, shin-guards, a
nd socks into a bag. I would put it on when I got to the field. It was hot outside already, and I didn’t want to wear the shin-guards longer than I needed to.
It was a short jog from my dorm building to the fields. A good sized group of guys were kicking the ball around. The guys on the sidelines were likely the other freshmen players.
The guys on the field who were playing a game of keep away looked to be the guys that had been coming up through the ranks. There were several of them that clearly stood out as the top dogs. Even in their matching colors it wasn’t hard to pick out who was elite.
Walking over, I stopped next to a few of the first year guys. I sat down in the grass and started to stretch.
“You guys new, too?” I asked. They looked over at me and nodded. They looked nervous about the first day, not that I could blame them. First days were always hard, no matter who it was. “I’m Lex Diamond.”
“Pete,” the first guy said. He was tall and lanky, kind of reminded me of Alastair. “That’s John.” The guy next to him waved. They looked like they could’ve been brothers, or maybe cousins.
“Ready for day one?”
“Nope.” Pete gave a nervous laugh. “You?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Lex!”
I cringed when I heard that familiar voice and turned to see Desmond walking over. Part of me had hoped he wouldn’t show up, having found his true calling in the Amazon or the Peace Corps. Sadly, his true calling was still soccer.
“Desmond,” I replied. He dropped next to me and started his own stretches. “How were classes?”
He shrugged. “Not bad, could’ve been better. Yours?”
“Bout the same,” I replied. “This is Pete and John, guys this is Desmond. We played on the same team in high school.” They exchanged greetings briefly.
Desmond started to pull his gear on, eyes on the guys in the middle of the field. “I see we have our alphas already picked out,” he said, shooting me a smirk. I nodded, and his attention drifted back over to the group.
They shot glances at those of us off the field almost as frequently as we shot them glances. They had the same arrogant smirks Desmond and I wore when we were the star players.
“I hate that we acted like that,” I muttered, shaking my head.
Desmond shoved my shoulder, and I glared at him when I caught myself.
“Give it a few weeks, and you’ll be like that again.”
I shook my head. “Things are gonna be different. We’re new blood, and theres a lot of us. We’re all about the same level of skill, coming out of high school for the most part. We won’t get to be arrogant for a while.”
“Oh, you think?” he chided, lacing up his cleats. “Well, I’ll show you. Desmond DeLuca doesn’t do timid.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I mumbled, running a hand through my hair.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I bet.”
Pete dropped to the ground next to me, John following his actions soon after. “What do you think initiation is going to be like?” he asked quietly, almost like he was afraid they would hear him and attack while he was most worried about it.
I’d been on both sides, though I would assume everyone had been if they made it to the soccer field. “They’ll probably ask us to do their homework or carry their books. Something stupid like that, it’s never too bad.”
“You forget one thing, Lex.” Desmond stood, brushing off his shorts and stretching his arms over his head. “This is the big leagues.” With that, he kicked his soccer ball out toward the field and headed into the group of elites. He was bold enough to jump into a group of the elite players and expect acceptance.
“Guy’s got some nerve,” Pete laughed, draping his arms around his knees.
“Or he took a soccer ball to the head a few too many times,” John added, and the three of us laughed.
It was about that time the guy in charge, Coach Richards, walked onto the field. He was dressed in black athletic pants and a white collared shirt. A black cap covered his mostly bald head. He looked too professional to be coaching a soccer team. His eyes, dark and intimidating, alone made him look like he was meant for either a boardroom or a court room. Maybe coaching was just a hobby, something to pass the time when he wasn’t winning cases.
The group gathered toward the field where Coach was, forming a circle around him. He glanced around, nodding greetings toward the players he knew.
Desmond was standing between a few of the senior players. He looked like he belonged there. I would never admit it aloud to him, but he probably was the better player out of the two of us.
“My name is Coach Gregory Richards. I’ve been coaching at Bartlow for nearly eight years, and every year brings new challenges. I expect my team to work together and fight for each other. You will sweat, bleed, and break together. That kind of bond means you will respect each other on and off the field. Is that understood?”
The fact he looked at everyone with the same menacing glare made me feel a little bit better. He expected that respect and attitude out of everyone.
After we all nodded, he continued.
“Freshmen players, as you probably remember from high school you’re red shirting it. Impress me, and maybe you’ll see the game sooner than you think,” he said, making eye contact with each of us. “To those of you who are returning, congratulations on making it this far. You will see more play time and more responsibility.” The next part was directed at everyone. “It’s your job to make sure this team is unified. It’s my job to make sure you have the training to go out there on game day and win.”
He pulled a clipboard out and started to call role, making sure everyone was there. Once that was done, he said, “We practice every day four to six. If you need to miss a practice you need to let me know as soon as possible. Miss too many times and you will find yourself the new water boy, am I clear?”
“Yes, Coach!” We all responded in unison, like we’d trained.
He smiled, a large grin of white teeth, and one gold tooth on the bottom. “Good. Today’s mostly about seeing what you can do. We’ll start off easy.” He picked the whistle up from around his neck and blew on it long and loud. “Ten laps around the field.”
It was going to be a long afternoon.
***
The end of practice found the majority of us gasping for air and rubbing muscle cramps. We ran for two hours straight, drills and more drills engrained into our heads and muscles.
My body hurt and I knew it was only going to get worse. The only thing that made me feel better was how much Desmond was complaining. He did it quietly so Coach wouldn’t hear him, but he still complained about his body needing a massage, or better yet, a replacement.
I was lying down in the grass, trying to get up the strength to move again. The idea seemed so far off and unattainable. It was only when someone kicked my shoe that I opened my eyes. I blocked the sunlight and saw that Desmond was in front of me.
“You look like crap,” he laughed, offering me a hand. I took it and held back a groan when my body protested moving. “But at least the whole team bonded over their shared pain.” For some reason, his words weren’t that comforting.
I stretched my arms out, trying to relax the muscles in my back. “This is going to be a long year.”
“It’s gets easier,” one of the guys said as he walked over. He had been in the circle of elites before practice started. It was nice to see that he too looked like he’d been running for hours. Part of me had worried that I was just really out of shape. But it looked like almost everyone was in the same boat that I was.
“Sure about that?” I asked, wiping the sweat from my face. A cold shower sounded like Heaven.
“Positive,” he answered with a laugh. “Ty Chapman, center mid.” I was pretty sure he was also the team captain of sorts.
I shook his hand. “Lex Diamond, red shirt.”
He smirked. “Don’t worry, bro. Those days end sooner than you think.”
&nbs
p; “I’m counting on it,” Desmond cut in. He rubbed his neck and then glanced sharply over to me. “Hey, have you talked to Olivia today?”
“No, I haven’t really had time.”
“Who is Olivia?” Ty asked, a dark eyebrow twisting upward.
“Ask Lex,” Desmond said, jabbing me with his elbow.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I muttered. First Ryan and now Desmond, what were they smoking? More importantly, who was their dealer?
Ty grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, are you blushing?” he shot a glance at Desmond who only nodded his head.
“No, I’ve been running for two hours,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
“Touchy topic?” Desmond chuckled, punching me in the shoulder. “You should call her and find out her day went. I’m sure her and Bethany have already talked about everything. You need to make sure that she didn’t get a boyfriend.”
She wouldn’t get a boyfriend in one day, that wasn’t how she operated. That was how Desmond operated, or how I did. But not her.
“Why don’t you call her? You spend more time with her anyways.” As hard as I tried, it was still obvious in my tone that I was annoyed at the fact he’d more time with her during the summer than I did.
“Jealous and blushing? Someone sounds smitten.”
The heat of the sun and my anger made it feel like I was burning alive. My hands had tightened into fists and I was trying to ignore it. But, really, was there a sign on my back that said I wanted to hear their opinions on my love life?
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” I muttered, crouching to grab my stuff and walk away.
If this was a theme for the rest of the semester, I was in trouble. And so was anyone that made stupid comments about my friendship with Honeybee.
Ten: A Failed Flirtationship
The next day flew by without a hitch and before I knew it I was heading to practice again. Desmond was next to me, talking about the hot girl in his science class. Apparently, they were going to work together on some lab.
