“Actually,” Nolan chuckles, “the coach offered him captain as incentive to join the team, which is priceless, since he didn’t want to play football and definitely didn’t want the added responsibility of captain.”
“At the risk of stating the obvious,” I hazard, “why is he playing football then?”
“Because the genius doesn’t know how to tell people to fuck off,” Donovan sighs, flicking his hair out of his eyes. “He’s too nice for his own damn good. The coach also went after Connor and me, but do you see us down there? No, because we don’t let a middle aged dude desperate for dumb high school trophies pressure us to do something we don’t want to do. I’ve got bigger shit to worry about than giving or receiving concussions just to get a rubber ball to the other side of a field.”
“Damn, Donovan. Tell me how you really feel,” I joke, warmed by his protectiveness of Kaleb in his own grumpy way.
He scowls out at the crowd. “It pisses me off that he’s a doormat, because he’s too scared to be anything but ‘Perfect Kaleb’. You know, he’s captain of the damn varsity baseball team too? Didn’t want to do that either, but come spring semester, he’ll be out there carrying the team and trying to get those morons to at least get near hitting or catching the damn ball.”
I want to support my friend, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make it through one of his games next semester. Just the idea of baseball bats has me shivering.
“Cold?” Nolan asks, rubbing my arms before pulling me further into him.
I give a noncommittal shrug, and Connor grabs his hooded jacket from between his feet and throws it over my lap. I offer a small smile in return. Guilt is starting to eat at me that I haven’t told them more about myself, but how do I tell them I’ve known for years I was different, because my father abused me to such extremes, I sometimes begged for death that never came.
I’m not cold, but I pull up and snuggle into Connor’s jacket anyway, breathing in the crisp, clean smell that clings to the fabric and try to absorb the comfort of my friends surrounding me.
Finally, the cheering dies down and the football coach makes his way to the podium in the middle of the gym. He’s the aforementioned middle aged man, with a protruding gut and dressed in a full obnoxiously red tracksuit. There’s a fever in his eyes as he assures the crowd that we’re going to crush the Westmerrow Bulldogs, our rival team. Connor and I wince again as the whole gym erupts in cheers.
When the crowd dies down, the coach announces, “As the great Tom Landry said, ‘Leadership is a matter of having people look at you and gain confidence,’ and our team captain has that and more. Let’s hear it for the man who’s going to lead the Wolves to glory, Kaleb Ward!”
I cheer because it’s Kaleb, but can’t help sending a wide eyed look at Connor and mouth “Wolves?”
Unsurprisingly, he shrugs in return.
Everyone screams and chants Kaleb’s name as he walks to the podium. His smile is in place, but there’s a hardness to his eyes that’s off, and he rolls his shoulders like his shirt is too tight. He’s wearing a bright red jersey with a giant, white 42 on the front, above it and to the right is a large C-- a jersey he was lacking when I saw him earlier today. He nods and waves at the crowd, waiting for them to settle down enough so he can speak.
“Thank you, everyone,” he begins, his deep voice reverberating through the gym. Both of his hands grip tight to the sides of the podium. “It’s the comradery and unwaveringsupportof each other that makes this school something I’m proud to represent out on the field.” No one else seems to notice, but there’s an edge to the way he says ‘support’, like it’s less truth and more a reminder. “We may be a small school, but our numbers only mean we’re a tighter community. We are a school that lifts each other up…,” he pauses, taking in the crowd, then shouts, “and that’s what will take down the Bulldogs! Our team doesn’t end with the guys on the field. It includes all of you!”
The crowd roars, clapping their hands, stomping their feet, and chanting “Wolves! Wolves! Wolves!”
“Bullshit,” Donovan grunts, leaning back and crossing his arms. “The only reason anyone gives a damn is because, thanks to Kaleb, they’re actually winning now.”
I get the feeling Kaleb was talking about more than football. My suspicions seem to gain traction, because while Kaleb introduces the rest of the team, I notice there are people pointing at me and whispering--- not that the whispering is all that new.
Connor stiffens, a low growl rumbling in his chest, and starts sending out a glare so cold, I’m surprised there aren’t blocks of ice where students used to be. That seems to be all that’s needed for Nolan and Donovan to go on full alert.
Whereas Connor is ice, Donovan is all fire, snarling, “What the fuck are you looking at?” to anyone he catches even glancing in our direction. He seems to grow in size, squaring his massive shoulders and puffing out his chest, the leather of his jacket creaking against the strain of the bulging muscles underneath.
Nolan sits up tall, pulling me even tighter to his chest. I glance over my shoulder and see his face has gone to stone. Stone that promises lots of pain.Oh boy.
“Uh, guys,” I murmur, but before I can try to calm them down, Felix pops up in front of me then promptly falls through the bleachers.
“Damn it!” Felix shouts from down below with a fury that sounds foreign in his warm timbre.
The seriousness of the situation is only amplified when Felix makes his way out from under the bleachers and starts purposely climbing towards us, walking through anyone in his way-- people jumping and shivering in his wake. His features are twisted into a scowl that looks wrong on his normally happy face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when he reaches us, my heart thundering with real worry and not giving a crap if people see me talking to thin air.
“That bitch!” he hisses, his teeth clenched and his hands curled into fists. “She…she…”
Connor grips his knees and is now actively searching the crowd, looking for the bitch, which I can only assume is Gina.
“Spit it out,” Donovan growls. “The fuck did she do?”
“The bitch started a rumor that Callie… is suicidal and threatens to kill herself if you guys try to leave her.” Felix is shaking he’s so mad. “That Callie is taking advantage of your grief overmydeath.”
I know I should probably be at least a little upset, if only because of how this has hurt my friends, but the idea of me trying to commit suicide now-- like it’s possible with my super healing-- is so ludicrous that I bust up laughing.
