Incinerate

Chapter 21 - Target Practice, Part 2

At the end of practice, Coach Bloom sends us back to the locker room. There, the assistant coach wheels in a huge rolling basket. Everyone tosses their jerseys in the bin, some flaunting skills they utilize in the winter for basketball season. We all help each other get out of our pads, which we pile into one corner of the room. The longer it takes to switch out of the football gear and back into my normal clothes, the stronger the cloud of sweat and testosterone becomes, though it isn't too dissimilar of what the end of PE is like. Regardless, I find myself hastily tying my shoes in hopes of getting home quick so I can shower in peace. Like the others, I have no interest in using the communal one.

Finishing up getting redressed, I head back out through the gym and into the hall to get my backpack. In comparison, the air is fresher out in the more open space as I twist and turn the lock, and I savor its normalcy. Soon, the doors to the gym fly open and the voices of football players fill the hall as they too retrieve their things before going home. A heavy hand claps on my back as my door opens.

"So," Timbo's voice booms in my ears above the rest of the din, "what d'ya think? Gonna rep the green and gray full time?"

There's so much enthusiasm in his big toothy grin, in the dimples of his cheeks, in the lights of his eyes behind his huge old-man glasses. Almost like a child after showing an adult a cool new trick they learned or after sharing some exciting news. He is the embodiment of pure joy and wonder and delight. How can I say no to a face like that?

"I think so," I tell him, stuffing the playbook into my backpack. "Gonna read up on some plays tonight so maybe I can join the scrimmages tomorrow."

"Hell yeah!" Timbo pumps his fist in the air. "All my buds are gonna be on the team! This'll be the best season ever!" Something catches his eye, a figure passing us and heading to his own locker. "Look out, Harley," he calls out. "Ash the Flash might bump you down to second-string if you're not careful."

Harley glances back to us with an arched eyebrow on his unimpressed face. Timbo lets out a hearty laugh that fills the whole school when Harley raises his middle finger.

"Love you too, man!" Timbo shrugs the gesture off. He turns back to me with another rough yet caring shake of my shoulders. "See you tomorrow, Ash. Study up! Can't wait to see you in action!"

"Same here," I say back, ready to make my way home and get to work.

* * *

There are no text messages awaiting me by the time I wake, nor after I've gotten ready for the day. Even though the sun shines bright and happy outside, I keep an anxious eye on my phone through breakfast. By the time I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head out the front door, I come to the resolution that Elliot won't be swinging by to pick me up. After all, why would she? She only offered to give me a ride to school if it was bad out. Clearly, that's not the case. I shouldn't feel let down, yet that faint ghastly sting finds a place to poke and prod in an effort to make me bleed. My skin, though, is a little tougher than it expects. Down the side of the road I stroll, letting out a long breath and shaking off the pang. Maybe, I think, Sera will come by again and accompany me.

But the walk is quiet.

The whole day is quiet.

Elliot doesn't show up to English. Sera is nowhere to be found between classes or during lunch. During PE, Timbo pays more attention to the other guys. Every now and then, I catch a glimpse of Harley shooting me a narrow-eyed look, but I chock it up to it being so sunny outside. I'm sure it's nothing. At the end of PE, I make a quick trip to my locker to grab the playbook and give it one last lookover back in the locker room.