. *A not so ordinary baseball practise...* .
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Had a lot of fluff recently, so it's about time we get some action don't you think?
Love ya <3 ~ Owl
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-Darryl's POV-
There was a note stuck to the door of my apartment. I'm not used to notes being left for me, I don't have that many friends at this school. I presumed it was one of 'those kids' asking me to do their homework again, but wondered how they'd know which dorm is mine.
It's not uncommon for me to have a note slipped through my locker asking about question eight for the chemistry homework or the assignment for geography. People don't seem to like coming to ask me in person, and I'm not naïve enough to believe it's because they're shy.
Zak could've been the same. Trying to keep a reputation is hard enough, you don't want to be seen with a nerd like me. It's always reputation around here.
But Zak wasn't like that, was he?
No, I kept my hopes up because I hoped that someday, someone wouldn't be embarrassed to talk to me.
And I think I've found that person.
I peel the note off of my door, expecting to be slightly agitated by the sticky line left on my door. But instead, I was pleasantly surprised to find there wasn't one. Whoever left the note was presumably not in a hurry.
Looking at the handwriting, I immediately know why. The handwriting is unmistakably Zak's. Thankfully now that I tutor him, it's become slightly legible, I can't say the same for it last Monday.
That's rude Darryl, he's really trying.
I read the note and smile to myself, neatly folding it and tucking it in my pocket. His spelling is far better when he's not texting.
'Remember we have practice. Sports field, 3:30. Get changed without me I'll meet u there. Can't wait to finally beat u at something >:) '
I can't help but smile at the face on the end, it's like something I'd do. My watch reads off 3:15pm, and I duck inside my apartment to change.
The baseball kit is the same colour as our school logo. An almost garish Yellow shirt and knee-high socks to match, with some dark green shorts.
The school emblem is plastered on every piece of the kit, the yellow and green arrowhead blending perfectly in if not for the black outline. I'm reminded of Zak's bag, which has an identical emblem on it. The kit is spare and therefore unnamed unlike Zak's.
This also means it's slightly too big, as 5'10 at eighteen isn't exactly tall in comparison to my classmates. I'm reminded of Zak, and how wearing the spare kit would be for him. He barely scrapes 5'8.
Mini muffin.
~~~
The sports field is surprisingly small for the size Northbrookes Academy actually is. Our school is pretty wealthy for a public school, which is probably compensated for by the 150 dorms for seniors on site.
The rest of the baseball team are gathered at the far end of the field. All are my age, most taller than me, but some shorter. They vary in size and build, as well as social status. There's obviously no nerds, but only a few of them are recognisable as 'those kids'.
"Who invited the nerd?" sneered one of the taller boys, who definitely was one of 'those kids'. He was decently taller than me, with blonde hair and a fair bit of muscle. The ends of his hair were dyed pink. "Oh come off it Dave" laughed a brown-haired boy with glasses, giving Dave a friendly punch in the arm. The brown-haired boy looked around before asking "where'd Skeps get to anyway? Late again?"
"You know it. I swear that kid must try to turn up late every week."
"So like you to English class then?"
"I'm still getting a better grade than you dumbass."
The two boys burst into a fit of laughter as I just stood there watching awkwardly. They lean forward slightly in their fit of laughter, allowing me a split second the read the names on their kit. The boy called Dave's reads 'Technoblade' and the others reads 'Spifey'.
What odd names.
I knew the baseball kids had nicknames they called each other, but these seem really weird. I must've spent too long staring, as both boys had stopped laughing and were glaring at me. "Not recognise the nicknames? Clearly not a party go-er" the boy nicknamed Spifey jeered. "What brings a nerd like you here anyway?"
Suddenly someone came up behind me, giving me a lighthearted elbow to the ribs. I clutched my stomach as Zak passed me, smiling with that usual smirk of his. "Hey Techno, Spif" he greeted, punching them each too. "Ah late as usual are we Skep?" Techno tapped his wrist as if pretending there was a watch on it. "Some things never change."
Zak was wearing almost the same kit as me, with his nickname 'Skeppy' in black stitching across the back of his shirt. He also wore a pair of white wrist guards, which stood out in contrast to the darker kit. They looked more like supports for when you injure your wrists, with the wrapping stretching around the hands.
It hadn't even occurred to me until then that the baseball kit was short sleeved, so Zak must have to do something to hide his wrists when playing. They were unfortunately not the sort of thing you could wear around school though, so he couldn't have used them today when he had to borrow my hoodie.
"Still wearing those wrist guards Skep? How long have your wrists been damaged for?" Zak shoots me a glance before swiftly replying "oh you know, they're sprained so bad I have to wear these for a lot longer than they thought originally."
The response wasn't fast at all. Calculated carefully, with no stutters or trembling in his voice. He was clearly experienced with this. Lying, an experienced liar. I know his wrists aren't sprained, they're scarred, so why does he lie about it?
What really happened to him to get those scars?
I don't understand what can be so bad he'd have to lie about it. If he got hurt somehow, then surely he'd just say what happened. But he's so overprotective of them, he hides and speaks of them like he's ashamed of them. He wouldn't tell me what happened.
So he lies, he lies to everyone, including me.
I already knew he didn't want me to find out about his scars, I only found out by accident. Zak was unconscious then, he couldn't stop me.
I hate liars, but somehow I can't find any disgust towards Zak in his lie towards two people who he seems to be pretty close friends with. Instead I find pity, pity and sadness that he feels the need to lie and hide the real reason behind those scars.
I'm going to change that.
"Um... earth to Darryl? Hello?" Zak is waving a hand in my face with a puzzled expression. I must've spaced out again.
I really need to stop doing that...
"Oh! Sorry I didn't hear you!" I reply nervously, rubbing the back of my neck in embarrassment as the two seniors stare at me. "This is Darryl. He's my friend, and he's coming to baseball practice now."
'My friend.'
"Darryl, this is Dave and George, aka Technoblade, Techno for short, and Spifey."
The older boy's faces lighten. "Darryl eh? So you're Zak's tutor I'd presume? Sorry, he's a bit of a handful."
"Shut your mouth Dave!" Zak fumes, punching the boy in the shoulder in a less friendly manner. "He's a midget, but he sure has an attitude" George adds, laughing at Zak's reddening face. "This midget can still kick your ass" Zak retorts.
He's so damn cute.
What!
Us seniors laugh as Zak shouts some stuttered insults and fumes. He ends it by poking all 3 of us in the stomach. "No fair" George whines, clutching where Zak poked him. Dave proceeds to make a show of a fake death, falling to the floor and clutching his stomach. He gets up again almost immediately. "Technoblade never dies" he adds with a triumphant smirk.
"So what's your nickname then? If we gotta deal with you, we at least gotta get you a name." George says, pointing a finger at me. "Um how about-"
"Oh no no no." Dave interrupts. "The team pick. It's only fair."
Oh no.
"Hmm, how about something ironic for a nerd." George questions, staring at me as if he's analysing me. "He's a bit of a good boy isn't he. No parties for you that's for sure."
"Then call him 'bad boy' instead" Dave smirks. "Make him sound like the devil."
"Halo" Zak cuts in. "He's more like an Angel, so then it fits better. Badboyhalo."
'Badboyhalo'
"I like it" I say, and actually mean it. It makes me sound cool, but still nice. The other two nod in agreement. "It's settled then. Badboyhalo, or Bad for short" Zak smiles. "Gotta keep it ironic."
"Boys would you get over here? We're about to start?" I recognise the voice to be Mr Green, the coach of the baseball team. "Comin coach" Dave shouts back, running off in that direction. George follows close behind. "Ready?" Zak asks, smiling at me kindly. "Guess so. I'll try" I reply. Zak's smile turns wicked. "Good. I'll hold you to that."
"Wha-"
Zak grabs my sleeve and runs off after Dave and George, pulling me behind him. I laugh and catch up as we run together.
Friend, he called me his friend.
I guess we're friends now.
~~~
Training ends faster than I expected it to. It ends at 6, but I expected it to feel longer. Dave and George seem pretty nice, we spent the whole time chatting about video games. Turns out we all love Minecraft, including Zak.
I set off in the direction of my dorm, leaving Zak to go out the opposite exit back to his house. I offered to take him back to his, but Zak refused, saying I should really change as soon as possible.
He was right. I'd never played baseball before, so it took me all of today to just learn the basics. I'm covered in bruises and mud, and extremely weak from exhaustion. I've not played any sports in a long time, long walks are more my thing.
Dave joked that he'd carry me back to my dorm as I was so pale. I decided I'd go back past the infirmary to grab some more bandages, as helping Zak means I go through them a lot faster than usual.
The lights are dim, mixed with the darkness outside at this time of year meaning that it was pretty dark anyway. To my surprise, the glowing light outside the infirmary was still bright as ever. I stepped under it to unlock the door, my eyes straining at the sudden flood of light. I fumbled in my pockets, producing only the note Zak had left me earlier.
Where were my keys?
I backtracked down the hallway in search of them. They must've fallen out as I was walking here, I had them when I left the sports field. I turn the corner of an even darker hallway, scanning the darkness. Suddenly, my glasses come off, obscuring my view even more.
No, are knocked off.
Something slams into my back, knocking me to the floor. I hit my head into the wall, my vision distorting as my heads throbs. I try to turn around, but someone grabs me by the shirt. I pull against them as they turn me around, pushing me against the wall. My head hits against a light, as I try to make out the figure holding me.
They cover my mouth with a hand before I can scream for help, adjusting the other to hold me tighter against the wall. I can tell that the figure is slightly taller than me. The light I'm pressed against faintly illuminates their glasses. I can't make out any more of the figure.
"Hello Darryl Noveschoch" they say with a thick accent.
I try to reply, but I can't.
"Let's have a little chat shall we?"
I struggle against them, but it's no use. Fingers press against my throat, cutting off my breathing.
I'm out within seconds.
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Cliffhanger! Been wanting to write one for a while. Know who the figure is?