I woke up and slowly blink my eyes, letting them adjust to the sunlight seeping in through the window.
Suddenly, I remember.
One week.
One week closer to Caleb and Tesa losing the house.
One week since I last saw Camri.
I know I should go check on her but just seeing her so depressed really hurts. A lot.
One week since I have been on the field.
Which is outrageous, considering that I used to spend more time on the soccer field than in my own house.
After changing and trying my best to tame my hair, I start up the stairs to the kitchen.
Tesa is sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal.
I sit down across from her and start to pour my own.
“So, good news…” Tesa starts.
I look at her encouragingly.
“The hospital called Caleb last night. They said that Camri can come back now.”
“How is she?”
“They said she still needs crutches but should be on a boot soon.”
“I mean…” I trail off.
“Emotionally?” Tesa deciphers. “I don’t know. We’ll have to find out.”
I start to eat, lost in thought.
“I’m sure she is fine. You, on the other hand, is the one we should all be worried about. Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Tesa’s concern shines through her usual sarcasm.
“Yes. I just did. Thanks for asking.”
“Dude, you need to do something with yourself.
Get a job or go play soccer. I don’t know,
something!”
“Well, one, if Caleb can’t even get a job, how
should I be able to? And two, I can’t go to the field
without beating the snot out of some poor kid,
apparently.”
“Not if you go early. Most guys your age are
still sleeping in,” Tesa supplies.
“Because most guys my age don’t understand
that life is short.”
“Most guys your age haven’t and shouldn’t go through what you have gone through.”
“Then why did God make this happen?” I hold my hands out.
“Maybe because he wanted you to become stronger, through all the trails.”
I look at her. How did some devil-possessed being like Caleb find someone as awesome as this person sitting across from me?
“Still think you should go to the field this morning. Enjoy summer while you still have it,” Tesa grabs her bowl and rinses it at the sink.
“I will,” I stand up and hand my bowl to her. “But if you get a call that I beat the snot out of some poor kid, please don’t get mad.”
“I won’t,” Tesa laughs, “But I might question your motives.”
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Deserted.
Just how I like it.
It is one thing to get your anger out by kicking a ball into the net.
It is another thing to try to get your anger out by kicking a ball, but you cant because you are constantly looking over your shoulder for the biggest jerk in the world.
Soccer season is starting in a month. But how could I want to give my time for something as unimportant as a sport? How could anyone?
A ball slams into the back of the net.
Startled, I look down at my feet, knowing my ball is still in front of me.
“You have got to be kidding me!” I start to turn around. “Dude! What is your problem?”
I stop when I do not recognize the boy in front of me.
He steps back with his hands in the air. “Whoa! Sorry!”
I sigh, using my hands to get my hair out of my face. “No, I’m sorry. I was expecting someone else.”
“Cole?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I walk over to his ball and kick it smoothly toward him.
“I get it,” he stops the ball at his feet. “That pass was weak, by the way.”
“Excuse me?” I raise my eyebrows at him.
“Maybe I could teach you a few moves,” he challenges.”
“Doubt it,” I drop my ball out-of-bounds then stand in front of him, blocking the goal.
He kicks it, but I jump up and block it with my chest. I turn to kick it in the goal myself only to have it blocked by my defender.
Two hours later, we were still at it, trading turns to practice penalty shots and making fun of each other, when my phone rang.
I walk over to my sweatshirt, which was bundled up on the ground, and fish my phone out of the pocket. Tesa’s contact shines brightly on the screen.
“Hey,” I answer, trying to catch my breath.
“Logan! Caleb is on his way to pick up Camri from the hospital. Please head home so you will be here when they arrive.”
“Got it. I’ll head there now.” I hang up and reach down to gather my things.
“Where are you going?” The boy grabs his ball and walks over to me.
“I’ve got to get home,” I reply.
“Same time next week then?” he asks.
“Sure. Name’s Logan, by the way,” I inform him, remembering that I never shared my name.
“Roger,” he offers.
I nod at him then head to the parking lot, fearing the future.
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