I have played so many rounds of Quizlet I think I might be having an aneurysm. I’ve also made it through 20 physics questions, three Kahoots, and re-read some of my essays from earlier in the year; yet to add to my strife Emily is still depressed as hell and James is non-existent. I only ever see him in class, and he won’t say anything. He just sits there and works on his reviews in silence.
After baseball yesterday he didn’t wait for me to drive him home. I texted him:
Dude, where are you?
My dad picked me up. He's gonna take me home from now on. Thanks for the help tho.
Are you sure? It’s really not a problem.
I’m probably being a nuisance anyways.
No way mae
Thanks anyways. It's better off this way.
Whatever you need.
“It’s better off this way?” What the hell does that mean? I haven’t been able to talk to him all day to figure it out. He’s avoiding all of us, which is driving me insane. I looked for him in the morning and at break, but I couldn’t find him. Eventually I figured that he simply didn’t want to be found, and tried to focus on the game this evening instead. I mean, finals are tonight. I want to scream. Everyone from orchestra is crowding me at lunch, asking me if I’m ready, and if I’m excited, and if I think we’ll win. Marina notices that I’m bouncing my leg up and down frantically, and puts her hand on my kneecap. “It’s going to be okay.” She whispers. I want so desperately to believe her. Emily is sitting across from me working on her AP Chem review. She keeps scratching her head and erasing the same question over and over again. Collectively, we are quite possibly the catastrophe.
State Finals: They’re kind of a big deal. Like “Oh look, Peyton Reyes is getting a scholarship to NYU” kind of big deal. There are scouts here looking for young athletes that are talented enough to play in college and anxious fans from our high school crowding the bleachers. The only one of my friends I can manage to find is Marina, who’s holding a giant poster that says “GO BUCKS!” In giant red letters with “I <3 #23” Written below it in sharpie. I pull my phone out of my bag and text her:
Where are Emily and James?
Well, Emily’s feeling sick. AKA heartbroken. I haven’t seen James in like 24 hours though so I have no clue.
I figured. Jesus.
You’re worried about him aren’t you?
No shit. I feel like its something I did, and I know it isn’t, but I can’t shake the feeling.
Why would it be your fault? Don't blame yourself. Just play ball :)
I guess she’s right. It’s not my fault. Right? Right? The most I could do was take it out on the West County Eagles (who are so uncreative by the way, their mascot looked exactly the same as the Philadelphia Eagles’ mascot.) After everyone warms up, Sean pulls the team into a huddle. “Alright boys, this is the seniors’ last game, can I get a yeah?” All of the seniors make this super obnoxious “Heyeahhhhh” noise that sounds like it came straight out of a Cardi B song. “This is my last speech as team captain, and my last game at CPCS, so lets make it count. Are we gonna win tonight?”
“Yeah!” We all scream. “I said, are we gonna pull this W?”
“YEAHHHH.”
“CP!”
“CS!”
“CP!”
“CS!”
“Can you stop the blue machine?”
“Hell no!”
“Can you stop the blue machine?”
“Hell no!”
“1, 2, 3,”
“GO BUCKS!” We scream, and our half of the bleachers go nuts. Pretty much the entire school is here. CPCS isn’t a big football school by any standards. Baseball and lacrosse are our two big sports, but lacrosse season ended in February so this is the last big game of the year. Whenever we make states, it’s customary for everyone to travel and support the team. They all “red out” with red tutus and red wigs and red capes and red hair spray. It’s insane and obnoxious and it feels like a home. “Reyes! You’re starting!” Coach shouts. We’re the home team for the game, so that means I’m throwing the first pitch of the whole game. I swallow hard and jog out to the pitcher’s mound, the crowd cheering me on. Their starting batter steps up to home plate, receiving an equal amount of applause. I pick a ball off of the ground and take in a breath, staring him down with all the anger and confusion in my head right now. I inhale, and wind my arm back. You got this. I drill the ball forward.
We win the game.
The crowd erupts into excited cheers. It was a close game, we only barely won with a score of 5-3. There’s screaming and crying and jumping as a sea of blue swarms the field. In my mind, the world is swirling. People moving around me at light speed. Lewis hugs me, “We did it!” He shouts. “Yeah, we did.” Kurt shakes my hand, menacingly. “Good job captain,” he says. “You too, captain.” He rolls his eyes. I look around, unsure of what I should even do. Maybe I should find Marina? Maybe I should just go home. I sigh and pack up my things high fiving a million people. Coach has a brief meeting before cutting us all loose and I’m left to fend for myself. I’m about to try and find my parents so they can take me back to school because I don’t feel like taking the bus back, but then I see him. He’s wearing his favorite sweatshirt, light brown with paint stains in every hue splashed across it. It stands out against all the blue shirts swarming the bleachers and the field. I sprint after him. “James!” He doesn’t turn around. I shout again, but he keeps moving. I run as fast as I can to catch up with him, overcoming my sore muscles because James is way more important than being able to feel my legs tomorrow. He stops at the end of the concession stand and breathes. I grab his shoulder and turn around to face him. There’s a scratch across his cheek, and his eye has a light brown bruise under it. “Jesus, James! What- what happened?” I’m panting, barely getting words out. He just stares at his shoes and kicks a rock with his feet. “I fell,” He says, completely unconvincingly. “Are you okay?” He continues staring at his red converse. “I’m fine.”
“James-,” he cuts me off. “Good job on your game. I’ve enjoyed watching you play.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Thanks.”
“My dad’s waiting for me. I gotta go.”
“Wait, won’t you tell us what’s wrong? Everyone’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Just going through some shit.” He turns around and shuffles towards the back gate of the park. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” I say, desperately trying to maintain a conversation. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.” He turns around and gives a half genuine smile. I walk around the emptying seats, getting lost in the crowd of shouting people. My phone rings. “Yo, asshole, where’d you go?” Marina screams at me over the crowd. “Oh, sorry. I’m over by the concession stand. I, er. James came to watch the game. He just left.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, Mar. He looked like someone punched him in the face. He said he fell, but I’m not buying it.”
“What if-” She doesn’t finish her question, so I finish her thought. “It could have been his dad. I mean, they don’t seem like they’re on great terms. Like ever.”
“I don’t know, Peyton, is that really our business?”
“If James’ safety is on the line, then of course it is. Should we say something?” She sighs. “Let’s just wait it out a little longer. Do you want to go get food or something? I’m starving.”
“Sure, I guess. I gotta take the bus back to school, but if you wait for me we can go.” After I hang up, I turn around and look for James, but he’s completely disappeared. I sigh and push my hair, now plastered to my face in sweat, back into place. Lewis waves at me to catch up with the team, so I obediently follow my team. They’re still celebrating and full of happy cheers. As I get onto the bus, Lewis claps me on the back, “Nice pitchin’ bro!” He says. “Yeah, thanks. You played a mean shortstop.” He nods and walks off to the next person, cracking a huge grin. The bus ride back is just as jaunty as the trip there. Everyone’s talking loudly, and someone put Katy Perry on over a bluetooth speaker. Believe me when I say you haven’t lived until you’ve listened to twenty seventeen-year-olds shouting the lyrics to California Girls at full blast. I try to join in and be part of the team, I am, after all, the new team Cocaptain. My head is starting to hurt and I’m worried sick about twenty different things, so I’m really not succeeding.
When we get back to school, we have a final brief team meeting before parting ways. I meet up with Marina in the parking lot and we drive until something looks appealing. She turns into an IHOP before I can even give her my input. Neither of us has spoken yet. The barista at the front gets us situated and awkwardly overlooks us as we both frown at our menus. “How are we doing today?” She asks. “Fantastic,” Marina and I say at the same time. She doesn’t say anything else until we order. Marina gets a stack of pancakes and a hot chocolate. I get a kids meal and a water. “Are you for real, Reyes? You’re seventeen,” Marina says. “I want a stack of pancakes that is not bigger than my entire face.” I complain. “You just played baseball for like two hours, how are you not starving!”
“I dunno, small appetite,” She sighs and puts her head down on the table as we wait for our food. “You do not have a small appetite by any standards, Reyes,” She says. “How did this happen?” I ponder, slouching against my own arm. “What do you mean?”
“Last week we were all happy and friends and living life to the fullest. Now it seems like everything’s falling apart.” Marina shrugs, “They’ll get over it. That’s what always happens in high school.”
“Why are you so chill?” I ask. “I choose not to worry about shit like this. You know when the last time I had a crush on someone was?” I shake my head. “Fourth grade, dude. I had a crush on my gym coach.” I laugh, “For real?”
“Mhm. So stop worrying so much. You just kicked ass and won the state championship. Give yourself a break.”
“Yeah, I guess I should,” So we spend the remainder of our trip to IHOP talking about high school, and colleges, and life instead of love, and boys, and all that has pained me for the last school year. It’s comforting, I guess, to have someone to really talk to about James for the first time, and yet choose not to talk about him at all. I drink about six waters and eat two and a half kids meal pancakes as Marina devours her enormous stack of belgian chocolate pancakes. Neither of us talk since our mouths are stuffed with food, but it doesn’t feel quiet. I guess I will always have Marina. She’s so cool about everything all the time, I wonder how she does it.
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