Stress Relief

1: Jerseys

There was a knock on the door. An annoyingly loud creak following as light burst into the darkened room. A man spoke, no doubt already decked out in sportswear. "Hey, you wanna come with me to football practice?" The man asked. His son raised his head weakly. Eyes squinting into thin slits, no doubt only able to make out his silhouette. Elijah, who had just been rudely woken up from a very nice dream that he would be homeschooled for the rest of the year and not be forced to talk to people he didn't know, barely had time to fully come back from the dead. He stared at the man leaning on his door frame, and his dad's face contorted to knowing amusement.

Today was the day that he finally-unfortunately-got to go to his high school campus for his senior year. A month late. After being cooped up in his house for years 10 and 11 for homeschooling he decided he would spend his last year of high school getting the full experience. Which he was starting to regret. "Sure." He barely mumbled, voice thick from sleep. It began to dawn on him what he would have to endure for eight straight months and he rubbed his face dreadfully. "J's give me like, a whole year to wake up." He attempted to block the eye-straining light from the kitchen by keeping his tired eyes closed, but that alone has him beginning to fall back asleep.

His dad only chuckled in response, telling him to be down in ten. The door was left open and the hallway light on.

Just like any kid who hates school, he sat there for a few minutes. Mustering up some sanity to get him through the day. I know he said their practice was early but for God's sake this is borderline insane, he scowled at nothing before looking out his window. Anger brewing seeing the barely brightening sky. "The' sun's not even up yet." he whined to himself, throwing his head back like the only thing connecting it to his fatigued body was a wet noodle. After about a minute of contemplation of why the universe would do this to him, he groaned and finally got up from his bed to grab some clothes. After dragging himself over to the dresser that sat at the wall opposite of his bed, he threw some random shirt and jeans on. Not caring for what it looked like.

His phone began to sing a tune and he grumbled to himself again at the alarm. "Yeah yeah I'm up." He snapped breathlessly, pacing over and turning the damned thing off. "Fuck's sake..." As the screen lit up he noticed several text messages were sent under a number he recognized. He rolled his eyes so far he was surprised they didn't pop out of his head. With a bitter mood he set the phone the face down on his desk before getting back on track. He didn't know why he hadn't blocked him yet. Maybe it was the hope that he would change, apologize, or admit he's a selfish douchebag that nearly wrecked his life permanently.

Instead of going to his closet in search for a jacket, he lifted a dark blue one that hung on his headboard by the hood. It was his favorite. Clara, his step mother, gifted it to him for his 17th birthday. It wasn't anything extravagant or expensive, but if you flipped the sleeves over, on the left one was a little yellow embroidered design of flowers being held by a bandaid. He didn't really get it back then, but looking at it now brought a smile to his face. Quickly, he took a deep breath and finished getting ready, slipping a pair of shoes on and grabbing his phone.

After eating breakfast and having a mostly one sided conversation, thanks to Elijah nearly falling asleep in his eggs, they walked out to his dad's truck, tossing his bag in the backseat. Elijah had his license, but he had practically begged his dad to not make him drive to school on the first day, "Please I need more sleep on the way there." he insisted. His dad caved easily, and now he could enjoy the blissful peace of sleeping in a car before he had to endure social interaction at 6 in the goddamned morning.

The ride to the campus wasn't long enough, but thankfully he ended up falling asleep. Though the bliss of unconsciousness left him as he felt the car stop and woke up, sighing faintly through his nose and rubbing his eyes. It felt like he had only blinked. The car shut off and the space filled with a weird silence. His dad has talked about the friend group in the football team he coaches during dinner. Occasionally teasing Elijah about if they might be "his type" to which he sometimes laughed, sometimes rolled his eyes. Clara has told him that "He doesn't need his father playing Cupid for him." And he always smiled at that.