The Unconditional Pledge

11 Nick

"Alright, boys, reel it in!"

I take off my helmet, breathing hard. The sky is suddenly too bright, too fast. I bend my legs and put my hands on my knees.

"You okay there, man?"

I turn to see Ashton walk past, panting, and manage to flash him a thumbs-up. I jam my helmet back on and trot over to coach, who's beaming at us with pride in the middle of the field. "Good practice, boys," he says, patting Josh on the back. "At this rate, the state championship's ours." He peers at his wrist and blows the whistle. "Now go wash up, don't be late for class."

I start to jog towards the locker rooms with the rest of the guys. A couple of students litter the seats on the bleachers, most of them drama students reading from scripts and practicing parts. I recognize Eric Lanthe, a star on the soccer field but a drama geek off, conversing with Dana Cruz. I catch a glimpse of Jacob Miller, too, a junior who's managed to make the varsity team, behind the bleachers desperately flipping through what looks like answers to a test. This is the part of the Heights that people rarely see, the parts that don't belong and don't want to be seen.

Because the locker rooms are by the gym upstairs, we have to make our way past the west branch of the school to shower after every practice. It's kind of a tradition to walk through the halls, covered in sweat and dirt and pride, and be watched by everyone. Some guys enjoy the attention, but I just want to get in the shower most of the time.

"Looks like you could use some deodorant, Sawyer!"

I turn and grin. Jay stands by his locker next to Kyle, both pretending to pinch their noses closed. I spin around and raise my arms, pretending to unleash a stench. Jay groans loudly and sticks his head in the locker, and Kyle attempts to close the door on him.

I laugh. No matter how much he's changed, Jay will always be one of my best friends. He was in fourth grade when he stuck up for me during recess, and he is now. It's good to know some things will never change.

From behind me, somebody slaps a hand on my shoulder. I turn around, meeting a pair of bright blue eyes. "Hannah's looking good today."

I try not to change my expression as I move forward. After he'd caught Natalie attempting to suck my face off, Josh had stayed downstairs for the rest of the evening, and has pretended it never happened ever since. I glance at the figure leaning by her locker. I actually like the way Hannah looks in the school uniform, like she doesn't care that the buttons on her shirt are uneven and her skirt is wrinkled. Her hair is tied back in a messy ponytail and her pink stripe looks frizzy. I watch her bring her nail to her lip and bite anxiously, and realize she's watching Jay and Kyle goofing off by their lockers. This is the second time I've caught her staring at Jay from afar this week. "She looks like she always does," I mutter to Josh.

I push open the locker room doors, inhaling the smell of bleach and soap. I take comfort in the fact that Jay isn't even attracted to girls — he can't possibly think of being with Hannah. All thoughts of doubt are pushed from my mind. Jay might be indecisive, but he's definitely gay. He'd drooled over Josh's brother Preston for about his entire junior year, and I'd been there with him. Besides, even if something happens — and my stomach drops at this thought — it's definitely because of the pledge.

I repeat this to myself as I peel off my uniform and throw them in a heap on the benches. I twist on the shower knob and stand under the water, not caring that it's freezing. Around me, I can hear guys shedding clothes and water rushing down the drains. I close my eyes under the cold water, in a state close to euphoria where I don't have to think of anything at all. No Josh, no Jay, no Hannah, and most of all, no Unconditional Pledge.

"No fucking way!" a voice guffaws somewhere by the lockers.

I switch off the water, standing dripping in the shower stall. As soon as my fingers find the soft linen towel I brought with me, I wrap it around my waist and shake my hair, dislodging bullets of water.

I barely have time to shout, "Hey!" when a sharp pain hits my backside.

I whip around in time to see Josh throwing his head back in laughter. His shirt is wet, stuck to his skin, and his hair is damp. Without thinking, I grab the towel from him and whip it back towards him, missing by a solid two inches.

"Can't catch me!"

Josh ducks behind a locker. I hear it bang shut, and twist around to catch the flash of his white teeth behind me. Ashton stands by the sinks, ruffling a towel through his hair, watching us with a grin.

"Gotcha, Mathers." I catch his chest with my towel.

He laughs, and, in a flash, his tee shirt is off and in his hands. "I'm coming to get you, Sawyer," he says seriously.

I stand still, caught off guard. Without the shirt, I can see that he's muscled, maybe more muscular than me. His skin's tan like the rest of his family, dark from the years of living in southern California before moving up here. Before I can react, Josh lashes the tee shirt towards me, catching me right in the nipple. I clap a hand to it, more in surprise than pain. I blurt out, "No need to get naughty, Mathers."

He laughs again and wraps the shirt around his forearm. "Don't pretend like you don't like it."

I turn and clear my throat, suddenly no longer feeling like joking. Ever since the pledge started, I'd begun noticing odd things here and there about Josh, whether it's his throaty laugh or his shoulders, or the funny way his hips are paler than the rest of his body because of his swim trunk's tan. These details, which had gone completely unnoticed before his party, have begun to seriously bother me. I can't leave myself alone with him because the tension I feel towards him is unbearable, the thought of the pledge never leaving my mind. How am I supposed to make a move on him when I can barely stand being in the same room with him now?

It's just us left in the locker room. I consider turning around, walking closer to Josh — but I can't make myself think of the next step. I cannot make myself find the idea appealing, not for the life of me, and the panic of losing my pledge this year strikes me again.

The bell rings, shrill and loud, echoing in the lockers. I twist around and catch sight of myself in the mirror, noticing my slightly red eyes and less-than-smooth skin. I haven't been sleeping well lately. Behind me, Josh stands up and puts on a shirt. I cut my eyes away as soon as he looks up, praying he didn't notice my staring. "Hey Nick, what's next block?"

"Uh, biology," I tell him, my voice coming out gruffer than I intended it to. I walk over to my locker and slip on my hoodie, feeling the cotton wrap itself around my skin, and hesitate before ripping off the towel on my waist and tugging on my pants. I don't glance back to see if Josh is behind me, watching, but I don't have to — I hear his footsteps trail out of the room.

I let out a sigh of relief, glancing into the mirror to check that he's gone. I wonder, for once, if Josh has noticed how uptight I seem around him recently. I'm pushing the moment away, where I eventually have to stand up and face the pledge, or lose.

I hear Josh's voice outside the locker room. "Hey, Nick, what's taking you so long?"

I tug my duffel bag onto my shoulder and breathe out deeply. "Nothing," I say, leaving the locker room. "Nothing. I'm coming."