Within the Lines

18.

"Are they not nice to you?" 

Mom's voice on the other side of the line sounded worried, while I buried a hand in my hair at the way my simple question regarding houses backfired.

"No, no!" I quickly replied. "They're nice to me. Don't worry. I was just wonderin' if you'd already found a house. No other motives." 

"Oh." Mom still sounded suspicious. "Does it perhaps feel like you're intrudin' a little on Chiara and Paul?" 

That sounded like a good explanation which didn't blame anyone. 

"Yes!" I lied. "That's exactly it. And I'd, uh, just like us livin' together. Y'know, at a more permanent place to stay. Oh gotta go! Love you mom."

I ended the call just in time before Dad stepped into the driver's seat of the car. Atticus had been sitting next to me in the back and heard the conversation, but that was fine. He wanted me out of Chiara and Dad's house just as much as I wanted to leave. 

Dad glanced at me. "You sure 'bout this?" he asked. "Football bootcamp's not a walk in the park. Only goin' one day instead of two may be better." 

No, Dad. Zero days would likely be best, I thought. "Oh, no, I'm sure," I said. "Football for two days? This'll really whip me into shape. Can't wait!" 

I couldn't wait for the free evening program, that was. I was not particularly looking forward to the morning or afternoon, especially not when we arrived at the bootcamp grounds and only varsity jocks and a few very ambitious guys from my team were there. 

Fun for all levels, as the bootcamp pamphlet promised, was a big fat lie. 

The lie was almost as fat as I felt compared to all these super ripped jocks. Okay, I was a little chubby or a bit soft at most compared to the average guy, but everyone here was just so in shape. I was a ploughing donkey, while everyone around me was an Arabian racehorse. Nobody except me needed a break between exercises. 

When the scruffy, hard-eyed trainer called Mark wanted us to cross the field hopping on one leg again, I decided it was a perfect moment to take a water break and then get lost for at least fifteen minutes on the way back.  

That was the plan, anyway. Karma must've heard me planning on slacking off, and decided to be instant. 

With sweat stinging in my eyes, I hopped far behind the rest of the guys across the field for one last time. I never did see that hole in the grass coming.

One second I was hopping and hating life, the next I was down in the grass still hating life but with an added sharp pain in my ankle. 

Mark's eyes all but disappeared behind his bushy, thick eyebrows as he observed my ankle and bent it different ways. I bit my lip at the pain, while Atticus glared at Mark because he was not being careful enough.  

"It's not broken," Mark concluded after a few more excruciating movements. "Sprained. Put some ice on it and give it rest." 

"I'll take him to the cottage," Atticus immediately volunteered, to which Mark curtly nodded. 

"Sorry man, this sucks," Corey said, while Atticus hoisted me up carefully. "And so early on the day, too." 

"Well, I'm not escaping the hoppin' exercise - looks like I'll be doin' one legged hops all day for a while," I joked, while Atticus put his arm around me to support me.  

The hopping was terrible. Having Atticus so close to me was great. His arm felt hard and strong around me, and seemed to be a potent painkiller. Almost enough to not make me notice the pain in my ankle.