Chapter 4 Kai #2
I shake out my limbs near the small blue cone on the ground. “I can do that.”
“I want you in top condition, Nelson,” Coach says. “Alert and focused. You should know where to pass the ball before anyone sends it your way.”
I throw my arms out wide. “Coach, look who you’re talking to.”
“No big-noting yourself, Nelson.” Coach points to Tyler standing in front of the goal. “He needs you. He can only defend our goal so much without the support of his team.”
I grin, jogging on the spot. “And I am the team.”
Coach snorts, dropping the soccer ball and tapping it toward Tyler. “Time to stop yapping. Tyler, send it Kai’s way. Kai, I want you on the left side of the cone. In one touch, pass the ball to the left, and then get onside and tap it back to Tyler.”
I crack my neck from left to right. “Too easy.”
Tyler’s eyebrow raises, and my cockiness only intensifies. I watch his foot wind back and I step forward, ready to cushion and control the ball. It’s a short and hard pass that I anchor against my foot. When I swivel to tap it right, I’m put off by Coach.
“Wrong,” Coach calls out.
I keep control of the ball instead of passing right. “What?”
“One touch, Nelson. I said, one touch. Your opponent is already on you by now. You should have already gotten rid of the ball.”
“I stopped because you yelled at me.”
“Big deal. I always yell at you on game days.”
I blow out a breath. “Fine.”
“Pass it back to Tyler and go again.”
When Tyler positions himself behind the ball, I don’t step in close this time. I watch the spin on the ball and anticipate when it’ll land in front of me. I step on the ball and, in one fluid motion, send it right. Following its path, I jog behind the ball and then send it to Tyler.
“Better,” Coach remarks.
This time Tyler sends the ball right. With one touch, I send the ball left and then get onside and pass it back to Tyler.
After a few practices, Coach then has me work more on my footwork with a scissor move. When I tap the ball, I pass it behind my left foot. I then send my left foot backward, stepping on my right and sending the ball swiftly back to Tyler.
My actions get more fluid, and I catch Coach nodding in my peripherals. “Nice,” he remarks.
The more in the zone I get, the more I picture those rows of fans cheering. When Coach works with Tyler on his technique, I continue working the ball around the cone until time is no longer a construct. It’s not until Coach Lyle practically yells in my ear that I stop.
“Nelson, you've got five minutes to get in that blazer and get to homeroom,” Coach orders, thrusting me back to reality.
Tyler waits at the base of the field, waving me over. “C’mon, Kai.”
I nudge the soccer ball over to Coach Lyle. “Thanks for helping me with my technique, Coach,” I say, panting. “I was really feeling it today.”
“I worry about you, Nelson. Sometimes you might be too obsessed.”
I smirk at him as I jog towards Tyler. “No such thing, Coach.”
Getting back into my constricting regular uniform is a complete drag. A drag that weighs me down through my first few classes. Seriously, isn’t there a school where sports are the most important thing and academics are electives you can take if you want, but it’s not really encouraged?
At least the button-down shirt and blazer hide any signs of my stitches.
Now, I just need to avoid anyone on the football team barging me into a locker.
And to avoid the inevitable right hook I’d have to follow through with.
That all sounds like ways to tear my stitches and lose the car I’ve been dreaming about for months.
Right before fourth period, I change over my books at my locker. I have chemistry next, and that textbook is way too heavy to lug around with my other junk.
Before I close my locker door, I hear cackling coming from the right. My muscles seize as I view Tabitha Jones and Camila Garcia falling over each other in hideous laughter.
Tabitha taps Camila’s arm and nods in a direction for her friend to follow her gaze. “It’s beyond freakish,” Tabitha means to whisper, but I hear it as clear as day.
My jaw strains as I grit my teeth. I follow where they’re looking, and my gut drops when my eyes land on my best friend, Jamie.
“Oh my gosh, Tabby,” Camila’s voice booms, “you’re so right. I mean, why do they let that thing walk around in a skirt? It hurts my eyes. Like, it actually offends me as a woman.”
My brow furrows and I turn to the girls, squinting to work out what the heck they’re trying to say.
Camila clocks me, and she sucks in a breath, and then turns on the balls of her feet. She gives Tabitha an exaggerated grin. “Yeah, like, what were you saying?”
Tabitha points to her chest, almost startled. “M-me?”
“Oh my gosh, Tabby,” Camila dramatizes every syllable. “You were just non-stop bashing this girl.”
“Well, umm, obviously it hurts my brain why she’s even at this school,” Tabitha says in a softer tone than her friend. When Camila gives her an encouraging look, Tabitha inhales a breath, flicks her gaze at Jamie, and pops her hip. “I mean, we have a right to be at this school.”
“What the heck are you talking about?” I snap.
Tabitha jumps, noticing me for the first time.
Camila laughs, sliding close to her friend. “Didn’t you know your friend is a derelict scholarship kid?”
“Derelict?“ The word is slimy on my tongue.
Camila laughs harder, the corners of her mouth curling in triumph.
Do these girls really think they just schooled me on Jamie’s scholarship?
The girls shut their lockers, sauntering away with ugly, pointed stares at Jamie on their way past. Jamie, on the other hand, stands there frozen.
“James,” I call out, marching toward her.
“I… I…” she utters, staring at where the evil witches were standing.
I grab her forearm and yank her to the side of the hallway and toward my open locker.
Once she’s leaning against my neighbor’s locker, she groans, rubbing her thumb between her eyebrows. “What’s wrong with me?”
“With you?” I spit and then hurl a thumb over my shoulder. “Those girls are the ones who need their heads examined.”
She lowers her thumb and deadpans at me. “What would I have said if one of the guys were saying that stuff to me?”
I shrug. “I dunno. You’d probably punch their lights out.”
“Exactly.” She slumps, and her frown causes an ache in my chest. “Freaking girls! I can’t get a word out when it’s a stupid girl trash-talking me.”
“That was a bit more than trash talk,” I say, bracing myself. “How often are they gunning for you?”
Jamie pushes off the locker and waves off the question.
“James?”
She huffs. “It’s worse when it’s all three of them.”
“Three?“ I question. “They gang up on you three to one?”
She winces, stepping back. “Can we not?”
“When does this happen?”
“I dunno. Any time I’m walking the halls alone.” She shrugs. “Phys-ed mostly.”
My hands plant on my hips, and I bite down hard. “Figures,” I grunt. “Get you when you don’t have any of your boys with you.”
Jamie palms her forehead. “Ugh. If I didn’t get so tongue-tied and shaky around other girls, I’d put them in their place.”
“Why does that happen, anyway?”
She throws her hands up. “Beats me. You think I’d keep doing it if I knew the answer?”
“Fair point.”
“I just came over to see how your practice went this morning.” She looks off to the side, now regretting the decision. “You know, because I haven’t seen you all morning.”
That stings. If she weren’t on the way to meet me, those horrible girls wouldn’t have ruined her morning. Why the heck didn’t I speak up sooner? I get I was in shock that someone was ragging on my best friend, but I shouldn’t have tolerated a single word.
Next time, I won’t let them get out a second word in front of Jamie.
“Sorry, James,” I mutter. “Buck up. Soon it’s lunch, and then just a few more classes till we’re outta this prison cell.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yippee.”
We give less than enthusiastic waves goodbye and head to our next classes. On my approach to my chem lab, a bunch of students hang outside the doorway. Mrs. Field runs a pretty tight ship, so I’m surprised there’s so many stragglers.
As I move into the classroom with them, we’re all halted at the front of the lab benches. I hike my books under my arm, scanning the near-empty benches. Only the two at the back have students seated at them, plus another one at the left.
My bench.
Why are Sam Bancroft and Isla Finster sitting at my bench?
I tap the arm of the kid on my right. “What’s going on?”
“We’re being reassigned lab partners.”
My lip upturns. “Great. What for?”
He shrugs. “Beats me.”
Mrs. Field is reading out names, and more students shuffle toward their new benches.
Ugh. I actually came in early to my first class so I could snag a bench at the back. I don’t wanna be closer to Mrs. Field when she’s yammering on.
Speaking of which, once we’re down to the middle benches being assigned, Mrs. Field calls out, “Tabitha and Malakai.”
Tabitha Jones screws up her nose. “Malakai? Who?”
When Tabitha’s gaze lands on me, I swear I’ve never grimaced harder. “Oh, hell no.”
Her lips almost turn o-shaped, and I’d linger on how pouty they look if she weren’t the devil incarnate. I stomp toward the third bench on the right and slam my books on the bench. “Mrs. Field,” I call out. “I can’t work with her.”
Mrs. Field locks eyes with me. “You’ll work with who you’re assigned to.”
“Only if you did more than draw names out of a hat,” I protest. “Please. Please, Mrs. Field. I’ll work with anyone. Absolutely anyone except her.”
A shocked gasp rushes out of Tabitha as she sits at our new bench.
Gimme a break.
As if she didn’t know I hate her guts.
Did she expect anything less after how she treated Jamie?
“Take a seat, Mr. Nelson,” Mrs. Field orders. “I need to get everyone to their new seats so we can get class started.”