I'm tapping my foot impatiently. Cory's been with the nurse for like fifteen minutes and I'm going out of my mind. Why is he taking so long? Did I hurt him more than I thought? The idea of it is practically nerve-wrecking. What if he blabs about what happened? I'm going nuts just thinking about it, pacing back and forth, until the door finally opens to reveal a tired-looking Cory. His eyebrows shoot up at the sight of me and I try to keep a straight face as he walks over to me.
"Were you waiting for me?" he asks suspiciously, but the look on his face tells me this pleases him.
"No, I was just checking you weren't actually dead," I argue. He just stares at me. It irks me that I can see this smile in his eyes, but I have no idea what it's all about. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's the one with a plan here.
"Hey, wait!" I call when I realize he's running off on me. "Wait, you idiot!"
He doesn't, though, and keeps on walking. "I have class," he says.
I stop him. "Class?" I repeat. "I practically just smashed your head in and you wanna go to class?" I sigh. "No way. You're coming with me. No more school today."
Now he looks at me like I really am some kind of serial killer about to kidnap him. Groaning, I grab his arm and drag him with me and he protests against me. "What the hell?!" he yells.
"Don't be stupid and just get in," I growl as I stuff him in my car. Praying no one will see, I get in myself and start the engine. I can feel Cory's eyes on me the entire time, but I don't say anything before we hit the main road.
"Where's your house?" I ask and see him fumble nervously with the ends of his sweatshirt.
"Why, so you can come strangle me at night?"
I send him an irritated glare. "Where's. Your. House?" I repeat, trying not to sneer too much at him. This time he gives me the directions and otherwise keeps quiet, holding a hand to his forehead. There's a point where I almost feel like apologizing to him a second time. I catch myself before I get that far out of control and speed up to get this miniature edition of a boy home.
We pull up to his house in tense silence. I get out as Cory is already about to unlock his front door. All I do is stand there and stare at him, until he turns around, looking at me expectantly. "Are you coming?" he says.
"Uhh..." I begin, not knowing what to say. I don't get to make a decision, though, because Cory pulls me inside his house and closes the door after me. I am told to go to the living room and I just do so. I sit down on the couch in the home of a seemingly happy family. There are loads of family photos taken on holidays and loads of things that have personal value to them. That's different from my home.
"Don't look at those," Cory says as he enters the living room with two glasses of water in his hands. He knows I'm looking at the pictures of his younger self, the ones where he's smiling like a dork and like nothing in the world could ever get to him. He's still like that. Maybe that's what bothers me - and intrigues me.
"Are you getting embarrassed now?" I tease, picking up a picture just to see how he'll react. He lunges for me, trying to get the picture out of my hands. He's awfully close. Stares into my eyes.
"Give me that," he says and his chest repeatedly rubs against mine since he's trying to reach up high. Problem is I'm much taller than him. I chuckle and he chuckles too as I watch him fight to get it back until he gets hold of the damn thing - and my hand. It's like a thousand volts go through us. I stare at him wide-eyed. He does the same. The picture is in his hand now, but he doesn't move. His blue eyes shine. I can't look away. This is bad and I know it. My eyes land on his lips and he breathes in deeply. My brain doesn't register anything but him. I don't know why, but I'm leaning towards him and my lips land on his and we kiss. It's just a simple kiss. My hands are at his waist and his are at my neck, caressing it slowly and it is driving me completely mad. I can't stop kissing him in that moment. I never imagined this could happen...
... Only, there's always that point where you realize what it is you're really doing.
I jolt back, like I've been stung by something and feel myself slowly start to panic. I pull away from him. His breathing is ragged, but his eyes sad yet calm - just like he was expecting me to react this way. He wants to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, I turn around and leave the house. The door slams behind me. I sit in my car, my head spinning like crazy. I don't even want to think about what just happened. I don't want to know what it means. I start up my car and serve out on the road, racing home. It's a good thing the police aren't out today, I think, when I swing onto my street. I seriously hope my dad isn't home, but with my luck he most likely is. I get my answer when I pull up on our driveway and see the expensive Mercedes S5 parked in the garage.
Scowling, I slam my door shut and move inside, bracing myself for whatever happens next. You never know what mood my father's in. His mood swings are worse than a teenager's.
"James?" his voice echoes through the hallway almost before I step inside.
"Yeah, dad, it's me," I call out and hang up my jacket. I decide to just go into the kitchen where I find him sitting by the counter, reading a stack of important looking documents.
"Were you out?" he asks me and I don't like the small talk tone of voice he uses. It always means he has something to say.
"Yeah," I say.
"Shouldn't you be at school?" he asks, making me take the seat across from him.
I almost fall into the trap then until the clock saves me. "No, I'm always getting home at this point," I say and he seems to take the bait. Did I really spend that much time with Cory? We sit in uncomfortable silence until I realize that the documents he's going through are mine.
"Where did you get those?" I ask him quietly. I can feel myself getting angry.
He doesn't look up at me. "Found them in your room," he says. "I went up to look for you... You weren't there."
I frown and for a moment I forget who I'm talking to. "What's your point?" I say sharply.
His head snaps up. The eyes rest on me like I'm being interviewed in a murder case. "You will show me respect, boy," he orders.
I turn my hands into fists under the table. "Those are mine," I say. I hate it when he snoops around in my room. I don't understand why he has to know about everything I have and own in this world, which isn't much under his watch.
"Is there a specific reason you've decided to defy me or is it because you seriously think you have nothing better to do?" He looks me over. "I don't understand you, James. I give you everything you could possibly need and you still don't seem to give a damn about your old father's wishes. And that's despite the fact that I am feeding you, housing you and most importantly letting you finish an education you will not even need."
"You still don't know that, dad," I argue.
He kills me with a simple glare. "You might think you know everything because you get good grades, young man, but you don't. I have seen it, in fact I see it every day, and it's coming whether you want to believe it or not. There's a reason we're shutting down compromised areas. So I'm gonna tell you one more time; there are still a few spots open on the leader's course. Do yourself a favor, son, and sign up instead of wasting your time commanding useless high school boys around in football games. You are a soldier."
I clench my teeth. "I like football, dad."
"I don't care!" he throws back at me. "James, you are better than that! You can be a better leader commanding my troops! You should start taking some responsibility, not just for yourself, but for your family! For the goddamn country, even!"
I get up from the chair, seething up. I don't say a word, I just take my documents from him and go to my room, slamming the door. There's no way this day could get any worse. I want to become a professional football player, knowing that the ones they educate over the next few years will probably be the last ones. It's not that I don't want to fight, I just don't want to do it my dad's way. I don't want to be bossed around anymore. I wanna make my own decisions in life while I can. Just five years ago there was nothing he wanted more than for me to become a professional athlete, but since this stupid plague has started to infect the world, saving this dysfunctional family (or at least his idea of a family) and America has been his biggest priority. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't give a shit about me even if I did save the whole world.
Groaning, I throw myself on my bed. My phone starts vibrating and I see Jason's name pop up on the screen. The last thing I want is to talk to him right now so I ignore the damned thing. Instead, I put my jogging pants on and decide to go for a run. I need to be away from my dad, from Jason, and most of all from Cory. I can't face any of them right now. Grabbing my ear buds, I put music in and take a run around the neighborhood. To my surprise, I end up running to the park. Nature. I usually don't do that, but today seems to be a day full of exceptions. I want to slap myself. There must be something wrong with my head. Maybe I just need to clear my thoughts. Changing songs, I try to get myself into the music and the beat. This way I don't have to think about anything else. At least not until I get home. When I do, I take a short shower and change into my football jersey. My dad is out again, so I can freely go into the kitchen and steal some food as I normally do before practice. I pack my bag and make sure I have everything before I drive back to school. I'm a little early, but it doesn't matter. This will give me a chance to throw my bag into the changing rooms before everybody else gets there. I also lock my bag away because I keep my weapons there. Weapons I'm fully authorized to carry, by the way. My dad forced me through that training course. It is just the first step in his master plan, which is to make me his second in command. Something I'm not fully convinced is a good idea. Still, I bring the weapons in case we need to defend ourselves. The plague, however, seems to be a distant thing to me. We don't have many cases over here yet. For the time being, the government seems able to manage keeping this country on its feet.
Jason and the others arrive just in time for practice to begin. He goes straight to me, punching my shoulder. "Hey man," he says. "Everything okay?"
I shrug.
Jason frowns. "You wanna talk about it? I heard what happened earlier. Did he bust you? Because if he did, I don't mind giving him a piece of my mind."
I shake my head. "No, it's not about that," I reply with irritation. I begin my warm up, trying to get away from him. But Jason isn't that easy to shake off.
"If you need to talk, man, just say the word. I won't allow you to get distracted. We're so close to getting those scholarships. I really want this for us."
"I know," I say. He is right about that. It's what I should be focusing on. It's the normalcy of wanting to do something with your life. Something I have been worrying about a lot. Playing football is something that I want to do, but it's not something my father wants me to do. He keeps reminding me that time is limited, but he can never tell me exactly what that means. How much time it really is. He cannot tell me if this plague thing is ending or if it's getting worse. He cannot tell me anything, just that I need to be ready. But what the hell for? Nobody knows what's going to happen. Not even my clever-ass dad. I just wish my life wasn't so damn complicated.