Wrong Guy

03 | enjoy my solitude

Episode Three :
ENJOY MY SOLITUDE

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E L L I O T T ' S P O V :

"I expect that come Monday, you boys have gotten your shit together!" Coach yells, and I roll my eyes, tired of hearing that exact voice yell at every single person on this team fifty times.

Saying I'm over exaggerating would be inaccurate, as my comment is unfortunately reasonable, and true to life.

"Hear me!" He yells, and we all nod aggravated by the repetitiveness of his rants.

"Good." He finishes before releasing us all from the dreadful practice we endure before our final game after this weekend. Apparently Coach Neiman, thinks that by yelling louder we'll somehow suck less.

Well, at least make everyone else suck less, he already knows I can keep my shit together come game day. I mean, I should, seeing as I've been here longer than everyone else.

Technically, I'm not supposed to be on the team at all. Around two years ago a rule was formed that prevents any players that are over eighteen from playing high school sports.

But, when you have a school that is beyond desperate to perform well for once, and you're a beyond decent wide receiver. Not to mention that no one really knows who I am, or cares to know how old I am—

Well, age is nothing but a number.

We all crowd together squeezing in through the single door of the locker room, anxious to get home before it storms. We could hear the thunder during practice, but Coach viewed it as the least of his concerns, seeing as our defense was tripping over their own two feet out there.

Finally inside the small, B.O. filled room, I open up the decently sized locker, that has overtime become a second home for all of my shit.

"You think we're gonna win?" Matt asks from beside me. I shrug wiping off a bead of sweat running down my forehead with a spare shirt.

"That's up to you." I state.

Matt Kaiser was the quarterback of our team, and unlike me, bathed in the spotlight of his position. He soaked up as much attention as possible, and was probably the only one of us, that payed attention to the airhead cheerleaders that pretended to know what was going on.

They were airheads, he had a big head. I guess it makes sense.

"But you're my number two man." He remarks, and I contain my scoff.

We all know who's number two.
It isn't me.

"Well, I don't need to be told how to play this game, buddy. I know what I'm going to do to win, and you're the one, who everyone is watching and expecting to execute." I state, patting him on the back before heading out of the crowded locker room carelessly.

The season was already behind schedule, and I was more than ready to be done with this strangely timed season. If we lost this final game, I wouldn't be even remotely surprised.

Once I'm outside again, I find my brother's car parked in the front of the parking lot, lights on, and music blaring before I slide into the passenger seat. I don't know the song that's playing but Dakarai seems to be in a trance, smashing his hands against the steering wheel when the bridge begins.