I don't know if you guys noticed but I'm updating so regularly right now, and I'm 75% of the way finished of pre-writing the book.
Also, I tend to use a lot of gifs from Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo, and that's including the current one overhead. If you know that show, comment!
The whole school was burning in adrenaline; almost all of the student bodies were hyped all morning and with the impending soccer game arriving to our school at seven — being the first game of the season — it caused a lot of commotion within Alleghany High's grounds.
Soccer was a big sport considered to Alleghany; while for other schools would cast American football, lacrosse or even basketball as their highest rank — soccer was ours. Our team was incredible spirited, with excellent players and incredible coaches, the team won consistently throughout the last three years. Not to brag, but two out of three of our years, we made it to the state finals.
I lean against the locker as I let out a heavy sigh. My thumb presses on the power button, revealing it was five minutes pass my designated lunch time. Graham told me to meet him in the hallway before heading into the cafeteria, but I don't know how I can stand being in the chilly air-conditioned hallway any longer.
I wrap my hands around my arms, rubbing it up and down in hopes to produce friction. A glance down the hallway, and seeing no figure approaching me or even as a slight figure at all. The hallway being dead silent and completely vacant.
I couldn't take it anymore; the school produces a too high of a temperature for a chilly day, and being the forgetful person I am, I forgot to bring an extra layer of clothing. To this, I was stuck with a cropped tee that raised slightly above my bellybutton.
How I managed to avoid being dress-coded was a complete mystery to me.
"That's it," I mumble, pushing myself off the lockers as I turn my heel to head down the hall, towards the double doors that leads into the lunchroom. My footsteps being the only sound produced in the echoed hallway, it was eerily, like something from a horror movie.
"Francena!" I stopped, hearing the sound of my name. Footsteps continue to hit the rubber concrete, and I turn to see Graham's figure approaching fast. Today, instead of his usual attire, he sported on our school's letterman jacket paired with some grey joggers. The letterman jacket itself was split into separate colours; the vest was built with dark blue and our school's initial, A, was written in bold bright yellow with a white outline, carried over the left breast. The sleeves were a pale yellow, a bit loose around his wrist but had cuffs that made it attainable. The whole jacket itself had two white stripes outlining the entire jacket, and lastly, a cursive writing of Graham's name displayed on the back with white and his number.
I close in the rest of our distance, "took you long enough," I declare, as Graham halts to a stopping point. He was panting.
"Sorry. Coach was lecturing us about our food intake for tonight's game," which Graham rolled his eyes at; I continue to rub my arms with my hands, producing the heat. Graham notices my visible shivering. "Are you cold?"
"Yeah, kinda," I answers, letting out a sigh. "It's okay though. Only a few more hours until I get out of the school and I can—" before I finish the rest of my sentence, Graham had already took the time and drape the letterman jacket over my shoulders, engulfing me in his scent and warmth of the soft material covering my body.
I stopped, as Graham adjust the collars of the jacket. He looks down at his completed work, "better?"
I nod, dropping my arms down to snake them into the large leather sleeves. The letterman jacket felt large on my frame, but not too extensive where it would look baggy. More to the point, the jacket falls down at my upper thigh. "Aren't you require to wear this? What's your coach going to say?"
"He can shove it today," Graham shrugs, as I noticed that inside of his jacket, he wore a black muscle tee. "There's no way in hell am I letting my best friend go cold."
Moments like this makes me happy that I have a best friend like Graham; loyalty and protectiveness coursed through his bones and refuses to let anyone touch his two best friends. He's a great person, and an entirely amazing person overall. I'm glad I punched him back in middle school.
"You want to go to lunch now?" I query, pointing down the hall where the double doors leads. Graham nods, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we begin to walk down the hall, closing into the double doors as the sound of talkative chatter begin to fill our ears.
"You're going to the soccer game tonight, right?" Graham asks, his hand on the door as he was about to push them open. Just as I was about to answer and nod my head in reply, I remembered — detention.
"No," I reply, causing Graham to stop himself from opening the door. "Ms Bennett said I had an attitude the other day and gave me detention tonight."
"What? What did you do?"
"She commented on my outfit being too boyish and that no boys will ever date me,"
"Okay, typical, and what did you say?"
"I told her if I dressed like her, I was never going to find a man either way," I replied, causing Graham to burst out laughing. He had to pull back his arm in order to stop himself from throwing over in laughter.
"And–and, what happened afterwards?" Graham asks after sobering up, and I shrug.
"She gave me detention because of my 'smart mouth,'" I rolled my eyes and Graham slightly frown at my words, finally grasping the concept. I can't come to the game.
"Man, Rose isn't coming and you're not going either?"
"Why isn't Iris going?"
"She said she's not watching me kick around a ball for ninety minutes for a pointless goal. She said she'll rather be watching The Voice or studying." Graham pushes open the door for us, allowing me entry first.
"Iris rather be studying than doing anything," Iris always had her eyes focused on a good GPA exiting high school. She wants to be the best, despite already proving herself to be the best, she hasn't show herself stopping anytime soon. She wants to skim through college with a easy course and strong grade. She told us in the beginning of the year that she'll be trying to use this time of year focusing primarily on school.
"Yeah," we enter through the double doors, as the shift in lighting changes. "I just kinda wish you would come. No one else is coming."
I frown. No matter how popular Graham can be — with girls fawning over him during periods of the day, and countless guys coming to congratulate him on the games, but in spite of this, he secludes his friends to a minimum, keeping only us and a couple guys on the soccer team. His parents never comes to his game, and the guys are playing on the field with him. He just wants support from us now.
"I'm sorry buddy, but I don't know how to get out of detention," I frown, and Graham nods. Just as he was about to spilt directions off to the lunch line, I grab a hold of his arm. "But I'mma try, okay?" He nods, bringing up a smile now as I release and he made his way over to grab his lunch and I divide my way to the table where Iris is sitting; reading her notes as she eats.
"Nice outfit," Iris comments, once I took the seat in front of her, "how long have y'all been dating?"
"Shut up, I was cold," I rolled my eyes as I reach over and took her food. Iris tends to give me a small portion of her lunch everyday. Sometimes it's a snack, other times it's a meal.
"And the boyfriend leans over the jacket, typical cliché romance tactic," Iris flips over the page, looking up and seeing my attire. "Nah, never mind. Julian's jacket would've fitted you better on you."
"They're the same jacket,"
"Yeah, but he's captain," Iris empathises, "which makes it better."
I roll my eyes, "just because he's captain, doesn't mean—"
"Hey, wait," Iris paused, cutting my speech. I look to her awaiting her next words, "I wanna change something from our agreement."
Brows furrowed, "what agreement?"
"The one where you will be getting into a relationship this year," she explains, and I smile.
"Oh, don't think you're gonna win, do you?"
"No, I wanna raise the stakes."
"..."
"Fifty bucks, clean and clear. Julian Dean." My eyes widen, she's raising the stakes and she's placing it on Julian now?
"Wait, what?"
"Fifty bucks. Clean. I bet on Julian Dean and you."
I failed to stutter a reply, and she presses on the words.
"Deal or not?"
"Fine," I shrug, holding out my hand and shaking hers. "Money's money, right?"
"Yeah, and for me, easy money."
As I was about to retort her statement, the sound of a tray hitting the table made its way to our ears. I turn, seeing the source of the sound and found to be Graham.
There, Graham filled his tray with 95% junk food; all including cookies, chips, and much more. The only small amount of healthy food related to his choice was a small piece of salmon placed on the smaller section of the tray. He holds out his hand at Iris, who looks from her books and did their proper good-luck handshake. Once he finished, he turns back to the tray and I raise a brow at him, remembering his soccer diets his coach given him.
"What?" He asks innocently, "I'm about to go play our first game, let me nervous-eat in peace."
"I thought you were supposed to be on a cleanse?" I question, remembering how he just told me that his coach was giving the team a diet plan and remembering that from the previous years of being on the team, his coach would always call Graham out for his lack of healthy eating.
"Is he the one kicking the ball around for ninety minutes? I don't think so," He opens up a bag of chips and chops down on munching them as I continue to state. He adds, "I thought our friendship was meant to be a no-judgmental zone?"
When I didn't reply, Graham feeling my stare on his still, he took the chance and begin to turn his back to me, covering my view of him eating.
My eyes rolled, but wander away from Graham's back muscle and towards the lunch table of Julian's. I found that the whole F4 crew was sitting and chatting, but Julian lucked out of the pile. He was nowhere to be seen. I turn back to Graham, who still had his back turned to me. "Graham do you know where Julian is?"
"Why? So you can go judge him about his food choices too?"
I rolled my eyes, "Graham." He doesn't reply, but I hear the faint munching of what sounds to be crispy chips. I lean over the table and yank the back of his shirt, forcing him to turn back around and face me. He does, finishing the last piece of his chips and drops the empty bag onto the tray. He takes the cookies this time. "Where's Julian?"
"I don't know," he raise his hands in the air, surrendering, "the last time I saw him, he left coach's lecture early."
"Do you know where he could be?"
"He's probably in the library," Iris answers for Graham, as I turn to see her studying in her books, "I got there when I want peace and quiet and sometimes I see him there, it's the only place that would make sense."
"Thanks," I stand from my seat.
"You're welcome," Iris looks up from her books, a smirk formed her lips, "trying to get his jacket now, aren't you?"
I roll my eyes, and wordlessly left the cafeteria. I walk down the hallway, making a couple of turns before facing the metal doors of the library; in bold, reads, LIBRARY.
I enter into the room finding the atmosphere chillingly quiet. A couple of students sat at the provided wooden tables to read, and other just wandering to find books for assignments and entertainment. I didn't spot Julian immediately, and begin to dig deeper within the shelves.
My eyes ran over the familiar titles of book novels, and brought back to the memories of middle school years where I would hang out in the library reading romantic novels that I wished would happen to me.
I shook my head and direct myself away to the non-fiction shelves. There, mostly dictionaries, autobiographies and realistic work stayed. I spotted a familiar raven-hared boy in the distance, his back turned to me as he scored the same letterman jacket I currently had around my body.
His body tense as his hands placed in the back of neck locked together. He seems frustrated. I walk up to him, and poke him in the back. He turns around, brows scrunched and irritation passes over his features before softening once spotting it was just me. "Francena." He sighs heavily, "what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at lunch?"
"I could be asking you the same thing," I said with a small smile, hoping it could brighten the mood, "isn't the star captain going to starve if he doesn't have enough food in his system?"
Julian sighs, running a hand down his face, "I really wish you hadn't said that."
"What? Captain?" Julian groans yet again, moving father away from me. My eyes widen at his reaction to the word, "sorry. I didn't know."
Julian sighs again, "it's okay, it's just– I don't want to hear about me being captain right now."
I bit my lip, seeing his expression rigid; his brown drawn together, his brows drawn together, and his jaw clenched down tensely. "Do you need–are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," his voice deems otherwise. He paces back and forth, running his hand through his hair before coming to a complete stop. He shakes his head, "no. No, I'm not."
"Do you want to talk about it?" I came closer to him, grabbing his hands in hopes to stop him from pacing the floor so much. He does, connecting his eyes with mine.
"It's just—" he sighs, "I feel like this year isn't going to be a good year. I think we're going to lose and it's going to be my fault. I feel like it. I haven't been in the best shape in practise with all this pressure on me and I haven't been the best captain I can be. I think something faulty is going to occur and it's my fault."
"What are you talking about? You haven't even played the game yet but already declare failure? Not to mention, your self-doubt in yourself as captain. People can have their off-days, it's okay if you think those couple practises aren't the best as they should've but you can always better yourself tomorrow."
"It's not just that—" he takes his hand from my grip and begins pacing again, "I don't think we're going to win. It's my fault. I'm just not good enough. I can't do it."
"That's negativity speaking," I declare, taking a closer step, "stop thinking like that, but you're good. I know you are, Graham tells me you are, and I've seen it myself. You're good."
"You don't get it!" He snaps, causing me to widen my eyes. I backed up, fearing I was too close. His eyes roamed over me, noticing the slight scared expression probably written over my face. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I'm just frustrated right now. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell."
His expression soften as he looks down at his hands. I took another cautious step forward, hoping he would allow me before snapping again. He doesn't say anything, and I continue to make more attempts to come closer. Julian begins to cover his face with his hands. "I'm just–I'm worried I'm not going to be good enough. Everyone expects me to be good, a good captain for everyone but I don't know if I can. I wasn't good for her and now I don't want to disappoint the team." His voice was slightly muffled, and higher in pitch. I think he's crying.
I pull down his hands slowly, seeing the puffy redness around his eyes as tears run down his cheeks. He lets out a breath, "what am I kidding? I'm not good enough. Never have been, never will be."
"Stop, don't say that," I said; looking into his brown eyes. There it is. The same look in them, the same emotion. Lost. Just like when I asked about Tasha and he told me he was lost without her. "Have–have you been sleeping?"
He nods his head, sniffing his nose, "like two hours last night."
Tasha. Him. Insomnia. Not good enough. Self-doubt.
This isn't insomnia. There's more than just insomnia.
"Julian," I said in a calming tone, "I think... you need to visit a counsellor."
He takes his hand from my grip almost instantly, his eyes widen and his expression shifted into fierce anger, "what? No! I don't need to see them, they don't help! There's nothing wrong with me!"
"I never said there was anything wrong with you, I'm saying that you need to visit one. I just don't think this is just your insomnia talking. I'm no therapist, but I think there's more. More than just—"
"There's nothing wrong with me!" Julian growls. This is the first time I see him angry. I backed up, never having seen this emotion passing through his eyes. He was always so calm and chill. It's scary to think he could even become angry. "I'm not fucked up, I swear. They don't help, Francena."
His expression soften, like a button shift in moods. I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say before closing them again. He needs help. I can't just be his help.
The bell ring before I could speak, and Julian turns to me, expectantly. "I-I have to go to class." I declare before turning my heel and heading off to class. Thoughts swamped in my head as I tried to understand the situation that just happened.
Julian needs help. And professional help, not my late night calling to help him sleep, not my idea of helping him, profession, licenced help.
Julian doesn't believe he's good enough, he's afraid of failure, he's self-doubting about himself, he's blaming himself. Insomnia. Tasha.
Julian is careless right now; he needs support. He needs someone to guide him to the right direction, which is to go to the counsellor or a therapist. He needs a friend right now.
I sigh, entering into the classroom. Just another reason why I definitely need to go to the game.
—
I was the only one in detention.
I'm not even joking, the whole entire classroom was filled with the ghosts occupying the students' desks and Ms Bennett and I are the only living people remaining in the school classroom.
Ms Bennett took the role of becoming the head of the detention department. She probably knows I was going to be the only one who was dumb enough to land themselves a detention on an important school event and was enjoying the misery she's putting me through. She types on her computer keyboard nonchalantly as I groan in despair.
"Ms Bennett," I call as she sends a small glimpse in my direction. I look down at my phone, seeing ten minutes has passed since the game started. "I need to go to the bathroom."
"No you don't," she continues to type, ignoring my plead, "you're just trying to get out of detention to go to the game."
I bit my lip, knowing she's right. "Can I? I can repeat detention three times if you'll like, can I just please go to the game?"
"Hmm," Ms Bennett coos, "since you asked nicely..." she trails off, her voice giving me hope, "no."
I drop back to my seat, frowning, "Ms Bennett, you don't understand, I need to go to the game. I have to, I have this friend—"
"Julian? Child, if you in the slightest chance think you have a chance with that boy, you're sadly mistaken. Look at you, and you unwomanly muscles and shoulders, no boy wants that."
I clenched my jaw, ready to punch her. I was going to reason with her, hoping out of the slight chance of her soulless heart, she would give me a pass and let me to go to the game. But for now, she always have to target me.
"What is your problem?" I growled, "you always target me for things like that! I'm not trying to get into Julian's pants, I'm trying to help him! Every time you talk to me, you always manage to bring up the fact that my built is not as feminine as it should be. What's the damn problem with it? Not every single girl is going to be look exactly the same, never ever boy is going to look the exact same. Why are you shaming my body when I'm clearly proud of it?"
I stand up, and walk from behind my desk; I lift my shirt, showing my tone abs, "you see this? This was hard as hell to get, I had to exercise and workout almost five times a week to obtain abs. I wanted them, I liked them. Yes, they aren't as feminine and are considered masculine, but so what? It's my body, and I like it."
I drop the shirt, touching the base of my shoulders, "I gain my broad shoulders from birth. I was always born like that; when I was little I was shamed because it looked too rough on a girl compared to being on a boy. When I got to swimming, broad shoulders help my body swim even better. It took me through hell in order for me to love them for what they are."
I look down at my biceps; they weren't as much but were there. If I flex, you could see I have muscles, "I have muscles," I run my fingers through my biceps, "I gained it through push-ups and arm workouts with coach. There's nothing I can do about it, unless I quit swim. But I don't want to quit swim, I like swim. I shouldn't drop something I love because someone told me to."
I look back up to Ms Bennett, who gained a softer expression on her face, "if I had told you everyday what a horrible teacher you are, what would you do? Would you quit your job? Would you go home and feel bad about yourself?"
"No..."
"Exactly! You wouldn't quit something you love because a student told you so; in return, think from my position, I wouldn't quit something I love because one teacher told me so." I look back at Ms Bennett, her features soften, "I understand we grow up in different generations, but don't shame me for my generation. I am not typically feminine, I'm built slightly like a boy. But I'm still a girl, I like to shop, I like to paint my nails and I like to watch romantic movies. You cannot tell a generation to stop something just because you never followed it yourself."
Ms Bennett closes her jaw, and I think this was the first time I've ever seen her speechless. Throughout our time, she would always have a comeback to my statements, but this was truly the first time she didn't say anything.
"Just because you say these, doesn't mean I'll let you out of detention—"
"I'm not asking to let me out of detention because of that, I was trying to tell you about the difference between our points of views." I said, sighing, "but speaking on detention, can I do this another day? I swear, I'll be here till the end of the whole day if I have to, I just need to go to the game."
Ms Bennett looks at me, thoughtful, "fine," she declares and my eyes widen, I didn't expect her to say yes, "but another detention, another day, understood?"
"Yes! Thank you, thank you!" I jumped in joy as I ran and exited out of the classroom, racing down the halls and towards the soccer entrance. The loud chatters and cheers told me I was in the right place.
I push through the metal doors, and the wave of cool air touch skin. I tighten the letterman jacket around my body, and smile.
I'm here.