Davey chuckled and let me go. “Just messing with you Tommy. I wouldn’t do that. It’s bad enough Zeke hurt your ankle on purpose,” he said, shaking his head.
I froze as Phil moved away and let Sammy out of the supply shed. “Zeke…what?” I asked in confusion.
Davey nodded, motioning Phil over as Sammy grumbled out curse words and disappeared back into the supply shed to find a soccer ball.
“Phil, didn’t Zeke knock Tommy down on purpose?” Davey asked and Phil nodded.
“He did it so that you couldn’t try out. He was afraid you would get hurt this season if you played. I think that’s just messed up,” Phil said, frowning deeply. “He didn’t have to go and nearly break your ankle like that.”
I stared at Phil, searching for any sign of a lie as Greg and Davey nodded. Phil wouldn’t lie to me. He didn’t have a reason to; he and I had always gotten along on really good terms. Phil wasn’t the lying type.
Had…Had Zeke hurt me on purpose?
“He wouldn’t do that,” I said flatly.
“He did,” Phil said, giving me sympathetic look.
“Zeke wouldn’t,” I said confidently. But had he? Would he do that, thinking he was going to protect me? Or even worse…
Had he done it so that Kory wouldn’t have any competition?
I tried to fight these thoughts out of my head as Phil gave me another sympathetic look and tried to assure me that Zeke had done it on purpose.
Sammy came over to us with a soccer ball tucked under his arm. He shoved Phil playfully and they fell to the ground, wrestling each other. I just stared at the spot Zeke had knocked me down at the other day.
“Tommy? What’s wrong?” Sammy asked as he and Phil stood up.
“Nothing,” I said casually, snapping out of my thoughts.
Sammy shrugged and motioned me to follow him. We walked away from Davey, Greg, and Phil and Sammy carefully passed the ball to me so I could practice trapping and passing with my left foot.
Sammy picked the ball up after a while and sighed. “We better head home before mom gets in. She’ll have a cow if she finds out you came down to the soccer field,” he said.
He put the soccer ball in the supply shed and we got in the car together. He drove us home and pulled into the driveway. He shut the car off before turning to me and searching my eyes.
“Tommy, what’s wrong? And don’t give me any bull shit,” he said flatly.
“Nothing is wrong Sammy. I’m just tired,” I lied smoothly.
“Is it your ankle?”
“No, my ankle’s fine.”
“Your wrist?”
“Is fine.”
“Zeke?”
“Is sexy.”
Sammy rolled his eyes. “I realize you think this Tommy. But are you guys okay?” he asked, trying to keep his voice normal. Sammy was a homophobe, but he tried to ease up for me. And why not? I was Tommy James Warren. Everybody loved me, whether I was gay or not.
Okay, well, not everybody. In fact, most people hated me. Still.
“Yea, Zeke and I are fine,” I said with a shrug. But I wasn’t so sure anymore. Even if he had done it on purpose, I would still love him. I loved Zeke, and nothing was going to change that, no matter what he did to me. I would be angry and hurt, but I wouldn’t stop loving and caring about him.
Still, if he had hurt me on purpose, he needed to either admit it to me, or breakup with me already. I didn’t want to have this kind of relationship. It was messing with my head, and I absolutely hated that.
I let myself out of the car and left the crutches in there. I motioned for Sammy to come over and help me. He let me sling my arm around his neck.
“Tommy, why don’t you just use the crutches?” he asked in confusion.
“I don’t want them to think my ankle is bothering me that badly, Sammy. So keep quiet. I want to try out,” I growled, glaring at him.
He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and simply nodded. “Okay Tommy,” he said with a slight shrug.
He helped me limp into the house and I pulled my arm away from him as we went into the living room. Mom and dad glared at me from the couch.
“Thomas James Warren!” mom exploded furiously, standing up. “Your father and I told you that you were not supposed to go to that soccer field!”
She rounded on Sammy and pointed a threatening finger at him. “You! Samuel Lawrence Warren how dare you sneak your brother out of this house to that soccer field!” she snapped.
“Mom, chill out. Saying our full names isn’t going to get it through their heads that they’re in trouble,” Mikey said, lying on the other couch and reaping Alternative Press magazine.
Mom glared at him. “I’ll use your full names if I want to, Michael Frances Warren. Now you hush up before you get in trouble too!” she growled before turning back to me and Sammy with a deadly angry-momma look.
I waved my hand dismissively. “Mom, calm down. I made Sammy drive me there, so quit yelling at him. And it’s not like I did anything bad. I trapped a few passes on my left foot, and that was it. I promise,” I said with a shrug. A few passes translated to about an hour of passing and trapping, but what Momma Warren didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
“Thomas, do you not understand that any wrong movement could have you back in a cast and on crutches for another several weeks? And out of sports for possibly your whole sophomore year?” mom asked, giving me a pleading look. “Stop over doing it! You. Are. A. Child. Stop being so stubborn, Tommy. You’re not indestructible. You’re little. You’re more fragile than your brothers. Stop thinking you’re some big tough guy!”
“Aw, thanks mom! Want to rub some salt on those wounds?” I asked sweetly. “Oh! But be careful. Salt could crush me. Since I’m so, you know, little. And fragile. What’s a synonym for that? It’s on the tip of my tongue…Oh yea! Weak, worthless piece of shit.”
I glared and spun around, limping towards the stairs. “Tommy! Thomas, come back here! I didn’t mean it like that!” mom called miserably.
I ignored her as I slowly made my way upstairs and into my bedroom. Jeez, was everyone against me now? I get it. I’m little. Didn’t need to rub it in all the time.
“I hate people,” I mumbled to myself angrily.
I limped towards my bed and hissed as agony shot through my ankle when I put too much weight on it. I immediately hopped onto my left foot and squeezed my eyes shut tight until the pain subsided a little.
I hopped on my left foot to my bed and collapsed on it. I buried my face in my hands and groaned in annoyance. I pulled my hands away from my face and glared at my ceiling. “I hate people. I hate being little. I hate my ankle. I hate emotions and feelings, period,” I grumbled.
I paused and listened hard for a second before mentally cursing myself. I needed to learn to keep my thoughts in my head so that they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Zeke, it’s rude to eavesdrop after you’ve already trespassed,” I called out.
Zeke crawled out from behind my dresser apologetically. “Well, Mikey let me in, so technically I wasn’t trespassing. And I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I wasn’t aware you liked to rant to your ceiling.”
He came over and laid next to me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me gently. “Hey, stop trying to be so tough Tommy. It’s okay to feel pain. Physical and emotional. I know your ankle hurts, and I know that everyone making fun of your height is getting to you. Stop trying to be so damn tough about it,” he said softly.
I shoved him away from me and rolled over to the other side of my bed with a glare. “Shut up Zeke,” I growled. “I’m not trying to be anything. No one’s hurting my feelings. I’m just getting annoyed. I know I’m little for my age. I get it. It doesn’t need to be constantly repeated. And my ankle’s fine. I just put too much weight on it is all.”
“Tommy, I wasn’t trying to offend you,” Zeke said in shock.
“Yea, just like you weren’t trying to hurt me so that Kory could get on the team with no problems,” I snapped.
Zeke’s eyes widened a little. “Tommy, I wouldn’t do that! You know I would never do that! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I can’t believe you would even think that I would ever hurt you on purpose!” he cried.
“Well you seem to be doing it a lot,” I pointed out, my voice viciously sarcastic.
“Tom, please. I don’t mean to,” he said desperately. “What’s wrong? Why are you so pissy?”
“I’m not pissy! Jesus fucking Christ Zeke! And don’t call me Tom!” I snarled.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean pissy. I meant…upset. Why are you so upset Tommy? Was it something your mom said? I heard her yelling at you and Sammy,” he said with a deep frown.
“It wasn’t anything my stupid mom said! Get out of my room Zeke! I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” I said furiously.
Zeke slowly got off my bed. He bit his lip. “I was just trying to be nice to you Tommy. You don’t have to be such a fucking dick,” he mumbled before leaving.
I watched my door slam and waited a minute before punching my wall as hard as I could. I hissed in pain, knowing my knuckles would be bruised from that one.
Anger coursed through me and I gripped my head as it began to pound. When I lost control of my emotions, I got a massive headache.
My bedroom door opened a minute later and my dad came in with a glass of water and a bottle of Advil. He handed them both to me and sighed.
“I know you Tommy. The way she said it wasn’t right, but the meaning was right. Your mom’s just trying to look out for you, and so is Zeke. Just be careful who you trust, especially when you’re emotions are all teen-boy crazy and you’re not thinking right,” he said with a shrug before leaving my room.
“Zeke,” I whispered and squeezed my eyes shut after taking the Advil. I desperately tried to get control of my emotions. Everyone was getting in my head lately. Davey, Juliet, my mom, and most of all, Zeke. I needed to figure out what the hell was going on with my life and make a decision: Either I stayed with Zeke and found a way to work everything out, or we broke up once and for all.