I stepped up to his level and twisted him around so we could continue making our way to the sports building, because I was still on the clock, no matter how much I wanted to reassure him.
“Dude, where’s your believer’s mindset? Of course you’ll make it out. We both will, and we’re going to dominate the next two decades of the game. Cities will name their streets after us, people will name their kids after us, we’ll be written aboutalongside Jeter and A-Rod, minus the beef, obvs. Then we’ll move into commentary.” I waved my arm slowly in front of us, giving him a vision of our future.
“Damn fucking right.” He slapped my hand in a high five, but then his face dropped. “Uh oh, incoming.”
I looked to the left to see The Laurens – a persistent group of girls who all had the same first name, and therefore thought they should hang out together. It was one of the many rules their coven had, so unless you were called Lauren, you had no chance of getting in. They also all looked very similar; with their blonde hair in various degrees of bleached, tight Abercrombie jeans, and sweaters they’d all customized with a number. Because we were currently in hockey and football season, the numbers they wore belonged to any one of the guys on the aforementioned teams, and starting next month, the numbers would change to include the baseball team.
That wasn’t to say they were fans of any of the sports – they weren’t. They were fans of status only; of the guys on the teams who played well, and won. And even then, only very few of the guys were interested in what The Laurens had to offer, because you could smell the trouble a mile away, and no one serious about their place was willing to trade a prime spot for the distraction of a pair of tits.
Not tits that came with their levels of chaos, anyway.
I was proud to say that I had never succumbed to exchanging body fluids with any of them, and under no circumstances did I ever have plans to, no matter how hard they tried.
And they really,reallytried.
In fact, I’d gone so far as to warn the entire squad last year about hooking up with any of them after an incident at the football team’s End of Season Party last year, and a fight involving the captain’s girlfriend after she overheard two of The Laurens gossiping about her, and how they were going to breakup her and the Cap, or so the story goes. I’m fuzzy on details though as I stopped listening, because girls…
But the moral is The Laurens cause drama, and my squad would be having no part in it.
“Hi, boys. Hi, Jenson. You looked so good at practice last week. Can’t wait for the new season. You too, Jupe.”
Jenson moved out of the way before Lauren M could stroke her hand down his arm. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“Where are you off to? Have you been named Captain yet, Jupe?” asked the Lauren in the purple sweater.
I jolted slightly though I didn’t know why, because the other thing about The Laurens is they kneweverything. There was no unturned stone they weren’t aware of. Usain Bolt is a snail compared to the speed they gossip.
“Not officially.”
“You’ll get it,” she continued with a smile, “and then The Dodgers will be waiting for you. You know loads of the major league players still have the same girlfriends from when they were at school. So romantic, don’t you think?”
I didn’t think it was romantic, but thankfully a swift yank to the left as Jenson grabbed my backpack meant I didn’t have a chance to respond.
“End of the line, ladies. See you around never,” he called behind us as he pulled me into the training facility.
The Laurens all stopped at the door – only school sports teams and serious athletes were admitted into the hallowed building. Everyone else had to use the older facility on the other side of the school. This was a place to concentrate, not fuck about, and mostly everyone respected that. Through the glass doors I could see Reggie, the guard on entry duty today, and they knew better than to push past him. He’d been an NFL hopeful in his day, but he’d suffered a serious knee ligament injury during the Combine that year, and struggled to play again.
“Jeez, they’re getting worse. They’re like sharks after fresh blood,” Jenson snarled.
“Yeah, it’ll get worse once the season starts and football finishes. Talk to the new junior squad again, will you? They won’t know any better, and The Laurens will sense weakness on anyone playing well.”
We stopped as we crossed the threshold, both of us soaking in the energy of the building for the briefest moment before heading in the direction of the locker room to dump our backpacks, and leave for our run.
An hour later we walked back into the building, our legs more Jell-O like than they had been this morning, given the pace we pushed ourselves. There wasn’t a dry patch left on my shirt. I had enough time to towel-dry and change into a spare one before I had to go again.
Jenson plopped down on one of the benches and passed me a clean towel from the shelf. “I’ll wait here for you.”
I peeled my shirt off and took it, rubbing it over my torso just as a split second of nerves sliced through my belly. “Thanks, man. I’m hoping this won’t take long. It’s not going to be about anything else, right?”
He shook his head vigorously. “No, dude, you got this.”
“Cool, okay. Cool. Yeah, ‘course. It’s in the bag.” The confidence I usually carried with me filled my chest once more, and I dropped the towel in the laundry hamper. “Guess I’ll see you soon.”
I took off down the wide hallway, still pulling a fresh shirt over my head, and made my way to Coach’s office, located on the second floor in the coaching wing.
“Hey, Reeves, wait up,” a deep voice called as I reached the stairs.
I turned to find Mason Jones, the hockey captain, running toward me, and watched a couple of girls move quickly out ofthe way. Mason Jones was not someone you wanted knocking into you, even if it was an accident. At eighteen he was already a giant, like a wrecking ball, and one of the reasons the hockey team was having such a successful season.
