Dark Hedges

Stapp's Law

The boy's locker room was practically deserted when they loudly walked in. Sweaty, dirty and about to collapse into the floor, Tripp barely made it to the bench. Falling on top of it, far too dramatically, he grunted and sunk his face in the middle of his bent arms.

"How you holding up, Lancaster?" Tony Fawcett asked from the other side of the room.

Tripp didn't answer. Instead, he grunted again, too tired to even raise his head and look at his teammates.

"Quit bitching, it was just the first day of practice," Arnie Pruitt scolded, in an almost parental tone. "Tomorrow will be much worse."

Tripp held back a whimper. "Worse than this?" His face came out of his impromptu nest and his tired, wide eyes went from Tony to Arnie and back. "How on Earth can it possibly get any worse than this?"

"Pull your bloody self together, Lancaster," Scotty said, throwing a ball at Tripp, barely missing him. "You've played lacrosse before, haven't you?"

Tripp raised his upper lip until it touched the tip of his nose and his eyes went to the floor. Slowly, he shook his head.

"Then why the fuck did you join the team?" Arnie asked, imitating Scotty and throwing a ball his way. This time, it hit him right in the head, making him let out a loud groan.

"I love lacrosse but never got the chance to play it," he replied, rubbing his head before picking the ball and throwing it back at Arnie. "I used to be in the swimming and football teams back at Old Silverleaf. I was ace at football. But Royalwood's team was full, so I saw the opportunity to play lacrosse and jumped right at it."

"Well yes, but you suck," Bradford spoke, not a trace of irony in his voice.

"Blimey, thanks a bunch, Brad." He picked up another ball and send it flying across the room. It hit Bradford in the shoulder and Tripp jumped in celebration. "Bullseye!"

"It's only a matter of time," Tony said as he removed his jersey. "You'll get the hang of it. But you need practice. Lots of it, actually."

"I can't wait," Tripp said as he mimicked the rest and started undressing.

"So, Lancaster," Bradford said after a second or so of silence, "you and Violet. What's up with that? You guys dating?"

Tripp shrugged, trying not to give too much away. "We are taking things slowly."

"Brad's in love with her," Randy Astor mocked and Bradford punched him so hard, he crashed against the lockers, his face doing its very best effort not to show any pain.

"Am not," the burly Bradford defended himself, his teeth so clenched that Tripp could practically hear them grinding. "Just asking for a friend."

The entire room shook as four guys jeered at Bradford, whose round and usually pale face turned the brightest shade of crimson.

"And who might be this friend, Brady boy?" Tony asked, shoving Bradford against the wall as the two walked towards the showers.

"Just some bloke. You wouldn't know it."

Bradford's pathetic excuse only brought out the worse in the others. All four jeered and roared again; this time, even Tripp joined them. Bradford's face, as red as it could possibly be, contorted in something similar to anger, that could also possibly be embarrassment. His lips tightened and Tripp guessed he wouldn't be doing much talking anymore.

"Have you two done it yet?" Scotty asked from the adjacent shower.

It took Tripp a full thirty seconds before understanding what he meant. "Oh. No, not yet."