The Kings IV II

30

Henry

"I'm open!" I yelled, holding my hand up to catch the ball that was flying towards me.

I let out a loud grunt when I was tackled, and I flipped my way into the end zone.

I stood up with a laugh, holding out my arms. "Touchdown, baby."

Brian brushed his hands off on his pants, looking back at Francesca in the stands.

"Do you think she saw?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

I dropped the ball with a smile, brushing past him. "Yo, Fran!"

She looked startled as she looked up from her homework, smiling when she saw me. "Hey."

I walked over to the stands, leaning against the gate. "Hey, did you see that tackle?"

"I-I didn't," she sweetly said, "I'm sure it was great, though."

Brian smiled, making me shrug and walk back over to him. "Sorry, champ."

I rested my hands on my hips and leaned my head back, but caught a glimpse of Zach standing at the gate with an annoyed look on his face.

I let out a sigh, closing my eyes. "Fuck."

"Zach's actually a decent guy," Brian said, "I know he doesn't, you know, hang around us-"

"No, he's a dick," I deadpanned, grabbing my shirt from the ground. I threw it around my neck and jogged over to him, stopping in front of him.

"Hey," I greeted, my hands on my hips.

"Did you finish that packet?"

"U-uh, yeah," I said, wiping the sweat off of my chest with my shirt, "come over here."

I ran off the field and over to my backpack, squatting down. I unzipped it and dug around for a few minutes, finding it crinkled up in the bottom.

"You know, if you had any form of organization, you'd probably be able to find things. And they probably wouldn't look like this."

I looked up at him, my eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I'll look into it."

I stood up and held it out to him, keeping my eyes locked on his.

He grabbed it and looked over it, shaking his head. "Henry, this isn't right."

"Okay, well, I tried," I said, folding my arms over my chest.

"No, you probably half-assed it so you could come play football."

"Zach, I fucking tried," I firmly said, my eyes glued to him, "I did my best, God."

"Your best isn't good enough, then," he shrugged, looking at me, "I don't know what to tell you."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You know, if you got paid to be this much of an asshole-"

"Listen, Henry. I'm not jeopardizing my chances of getting into an actual good school because of you and your shitty time management."

"Zach, it's one fucking assignment," I argued, shaking my head as I knitted my eyebrows together, "and who says I don't want to get into a good school?"

"Oh, I'm sure you do, but you don't need a decent GPA. You don't need decent performance. You're a meathead, and you're gonna get in to wherever the hell you want by being a meathead."

"You don't know shit about me, Zach," I spat, "for your fucking information, I've never been good at any form of science. So no, it wasn't just blown off to come be a meathead, as you called it."