Demons x Malum

thirty •

wednesday, march 11, 2015

thirty •

I cringe as the smell of aged paper and teen desperation invades my sense of smell. mrs. fink allowed me to skip her class in order to study for a biology test, I don't have a biology test. michael needs space, and being stuck for an hour beside each other will only force us to be together and create the illusion that everything will fall back together perfectly.

my phone vibrates in my pocket, stopping me midway through my search of finding a decent book to binge on during this dreadful hour.

joey: coach wants us at the facility right after school. gotta start up practices again– college.

me: I'll have to stop home and grab my shït, but I'll be there.

joey: ight.

+++

"calum!" my head snaps to the incoming voice, cringing when I notice I'm the last of twelve boys to show up.

a chorus of greetings, and back claps all welcome my raising excitement into the newly formed team my talent grew with all during high school. when joey texted me and informed me of the team getting back on track, I was more then excited to be back at my place of worship. I belong on the lush grass, a place where adrenaline mixes with friendship, and the outcome is a golden victory. chances like the one at hand only come once in a life time; always take the risk.

"alright boys," coach begins, pulling out his signature clipboard. "I just want to run a three on three- no goalie to warm up."

I grin, rushing away from the group huddle, and taking the initiative to plant my feet in the middle of the field. I notice joey on my left and brendan on my right, voluntarily joining a brother in need of companionship.

I began the match with passing the ball down the field to brendan, who then continues to carry the ball down the field. he quickly passes to joey who dribbles around cole, and passes the play to me; resulting in a kickaśś goal made by the one and only.

after another ten minutes, and much competition, coach calls the match, placing six different players out to the field.

"look at you, hood," joey laughs, lifting his jersey and wiping the dripping sweat from his forehead. "clean cut work. impressive."

"what were you expecting?" I laugh, removing my shirt in hopes to decrease the amount of sweat pouring from every crevice in my over heated body.

"well with all the michael and whitney shït going down, I didn't expect you on your A game." I freeze: he chuckles. I gape: he turns to talk to another player.

I hadn't even realized reality until now. my life is partly shït; everyone knows something is up about whitney, and I was some how dragged into her drama - again. and now everyone knows something with michael is going on.

when did my life become a soap opera?

"hood! your on again." coaches voice grumbles from a few feet away, and as soon as I look up, a blur of bright hair is passing by. I snap my head to the sight, my stomach plummeting when only a wannabe-punk jokes around with a pack of cronies.

I smile, knowing that playing a match of soccer with some of my best friends will defeat the never ending doom I call my conscious, tear away at my whole being.

I yell across the field to vincent, a sign to stop being a ball hog and to pass the ball over to myself. after countless tries, and a referee call made by coach- he finally listens and the ball comes soaring to my feet. the ball hits each foot repeatedly, my eyes grazing the field in hopes to see an opening to pass- nothing.

I sigh, searching for the aggressive side of my athleticism to come out and take presence in my time of need.

the blur of lilac hair in the corner of my eye is seen, and without hesitation, I'm snapping my head to the side and searching aimlessly for the pair of green eyes I've fallen recklessly for.

nothing. I mentally face palm, not finding what I'm looking for and ultimately having the ball taken by a relative teammate.

six times. six times out of ten I have the privilege of possessing the ball; it gets stolen.

"calum," coach's stern voice vibrates in the depth of ear canals. the sound tender, and caring for my well being. "what's going on?"

"truthfully," my hands run over my face, my own eyes meeting bright blue ones. "I don't know."

"okay, well go for a jog- clear your mind a bit."

"coach-"

"somethings going on, and I'm not having shït players on the field. your not in trouble, just go for a jog."

I grumble incoherent curse words under my breath, but follow his orders anyway.

+++

"are you hungry?" I look my mother in the eyes, shaking my head, and brushing past the kitchen with a single mumbled word.

tired, and overwhelmed, I head up to my bedroom and collapse on the bed. my life has never been so complicated, I've never had so much drama. I used to think my emotional stability could handle the weights placed on it, but I guess not- now it's effecting my game play.

I burry my head into my pillow, whispering inaudible things, and closing my eyes, for the other peace I get now is in my sleep.

+++
well I hope this is still enjoyable

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love you all - meagan