"Hi, Luca." A pretty girl in the year below giggled as she walked past, turning to her friends the second I was out of sight.
"Who's she?" Phoenix asked, furrowing his brows as I pushed the door to the changing rooms open, hitching my kit bag up my shoulder.
"No clue." I shrugged, yanking my locker open as Phoenix began to do the same. "Sam made me take her to the clinic again yesterday." I changed the subject.
Phoenix chuckled, his dimples deepening as he flicked his caramel hair out of his crystal clear, blue eyes. "Really? Again? Wow."
"I know." I huffed, ripping my leather jacket off before beginning to strip. "She's totally paranoid."
"Worth it though, right?"
I paused, watching him incredulously, "No. No fucking way. She's yours, dude. All yours."
He rolled his eyes as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, rearranging my scruffy black hair, and pulling it out of my almond eyes. I took a moment to admire my muscles, too - people called me arrogant, but I liked to see it as confidence. I glanced back at Phoenix and he sighed heavily, "She doesn't like me." He said sadly.
Phoenix has been my best friend ever since we were eleven. When I first moved to the UK, barely able to speak a word of English, most of the kids in my class didn't even make the effort to befriend me. But Phoenix was different - he was patient. And he taught me all the swear words I needed to know. The pair of us joined the football team together, made friends together, went to parties together. We weren't so different, he was just a milder version of me. A little less intense, less wild, less popular.
And everyone knew Phoenix was practically obsessed with Sam. He stared at her, drooled over her, tried to capture her attention whenever he possibly could. "Watch some porn." I suggesting, finishing changing into my football gear as I tied my laces into tight knots. "Maybe if you were better at sex, she'd wanna fuck you."
He rolled his eyes, "Fuck off, I'm not that bad."
"Alright, everybody listen up!" The coach had entered the locker room, silencing our chatter and the buzz of laughter vibrating through the sweaty room. He fed us strict instructions, told us not to fuck about and then left. We all filtered onto the field after him, talking amongst ourselves before training began, ready to drain our energy.
Winter was creeping up on the small town, shortening the days and casting a shadow over us. The sky had already darkened, despite it being merely four o'clock. The inky yellow rays from the flood lights spilled onto the pitch, glowing ominously above us as our breath fanned out to create small clouds of fog, my fingers trembling in the bite of the wind. It was hard to believe it was only the afternoon, it felt like midnight. Dark and quiet and cold.
Football was so easy to me. So natural. Panting and sweating and running. The hollers of the crowd filling the now eerily deserted stands, spikes sinking into the rough ground, muscles clenching as I ran at full force, the feeling of triumph drowning me as the football flew straight into the goal.
The coach had us running laps for the first ten minutes. Then stretching. Then talking tactics. Eventually, we actually played football. When I was out on the pitch, running and passing and scoring, it didn't feel like training. It just felt like living. Adrenaline pumping, mind blurring, world stopping emotions. Like it was just me and the ball. No one else. I wasn't preparing for a match, I wasn't refining my skills, I wasn't doing this for a purpose. I was doing it for me.
After a few pats on the back, we all headed back to the changing rooms, sticky with sweat. "Wanna come over tonight?" Phoenix offered once we had both showered. I changed back into my clothes, stuffing my sweaty uniform into my duffel bag.
"Can't. I've gotta pick Bugsy up from the vets." I groaned in complaint. "He tried to eat a cactus."
Phoenix chuckled, "Your dog's pretty stupid, man."
"I know." I agreed. "We spend more money on his appointments than we do on his food. Last month, he almost drowned in the neighbours pool. I think he might be suicidal."
He laughed, ruffling my hair before we exchanged goodbyes and I left the locker room, and headed to my car. Luckily, it wasn't a long ride to the vets. Through a couple of roads, past some traffic lights and up a steep hill. I noticed how shabby and rundown the building was as I exited the car. It was a family run business; small and personal.
I pushed through the heavy, dirty, glass door, entering the clustered store. It was a mixture between a pet shop and a vets from what I remembered. I'd been here a couple times, but my Mum was usually the one to run errands. There were a few narrow aisles, crowded with supplies. Cat food, hamster cages, fish tanks, dog toys. But my eyes just snapped straight to the front desk.
A boy had his head resting against the counter, his eyes shut, his thick glasses digging into his nose. I frowned in curiosity as I approached him, glancing over my shoulder before realising no one was in sight. "Uh...hello?" I cleared my throat awkwardly.
The boy snapped bolt upright, his eyes flying wide open. I chuckled to myself, examining his features, and trying to comprehend why he looked so familiar. He had big green eyes, magnified by a pair of glasses, tousled white, platinum hair, and a faded bruise which lingered over his fair skin.
"Uh, s-sorry." He stammered, adjusting his glasses as he fumbled to stand up. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." He trailed off, forcing himself to take a deep breath before continuing, "W-What can I help you with?"
I grinned, "Were you sleeping?"
He blushed, tugging at his sleeves distractedly, "Yeah." He admitted, "I-I was just tired. I'm sorry about that. W-What can I help you with?" He repeated.
"I'm here to pick up my dog."
He nodded, grabbing a messy folder and flicking it open, "N-Name?"
"Uh, my name? Or my dog's name?"
He peeked up at me through his thick lashes, smiling softly, "The dog's name." He supplied quietly.
"Oh." I looked down at my hands. "Bugsy."
He turned back to the book, scanning it and ticking something off. "S-So, you're..." He paused, looking up at me again, "Isabella Bakker?"
I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh, I was too. I shook my head, chucking to myself, "That's my Mama." I told him, mentally scolding myself and trying to correct my words, "My Mum." I added quietly.
He didn't seem to pick up on my embarrassing mistake and told me to follow him. I nodded and did as instructed as he slipped out from behind the counter and pushed open a white, windowless door. We appeared in a small shelter, full of dogs rolling around, yapping and wagging their tails excitedly. My eyes bounced between the different dogs, smiling against my will. Most of them were injured, wearing cones or sporting a wrapped up leg. But then my eyes drifted to the blond boy.
He was shorter than me, a lot skinnier too. He wore a baggy jumper draped over his shoulders, falling past his fingers, covered in dog hair. He looked strangely vulnerable, and the black eye embedded under his skin didn't help. "What happened?" I asked, gesturing to his face as he knelt down to fiddle with the lock on Bugsy's cage.
His cheeks reddened as he averted his attention, "Um...s-some kids from school." He told me honestly. "You know, just...just messing around." He added, pulling the door open.
Bugsy bounded out, bolting towards me immediately. He was a black lab, about six years old now. I leant down to his height, scratching behind his ear as he jumped up to try and lick my face sloppily. "D'you go to Wolfpine?" I asked him, trying to keep Bugsy's tongue a safe distance away from my face.
"Yeah." He responded shyly.
"Me too." I smiled warmly.
"Y-Yeah, I know." He nodded in acknowledgement, blushing again. After noticing my quizzical expression, he continued, "You're Luca Bakker. E-Everyone knows you."
I sighed, standing to my full height after buckling Bugsy's lead to his collar. "And you are?"
"Teddy. Teddy Hart."
"What's that short for? Theodore?"
He nodded, "Yeah."
"Huh." I commented. "Hey, how come I never see you around?"
"M-Maybe you don't look hard enough." He joked, but his words ignited a tang of guilt within me. Because I knew he was right. I didn't care about anyone, I didn't even try to notice people who weren't in my friendship group. Hell, this kid was getting beaten up in school and I didn't even know. "A-And I'm only sixteen." He interjected, "So, I'm in the year below. P-Plus, I spend most of my time in the library." Hiding?
"Oh." I deadpanned as he led me back out into the store.
"Your dog's really s-sweet." He commented, leaning down to scratch Bugsy's chin as he hopped up excitedly.
I smiled and nodded in agreement, "So, am I meant to pay you or...?"
"Don't worry, your Mum already t-took care of everything." He shot me a short smile. "You can just take him."
I nodded, "Thanks." And with an awkward wave, I left the shop.