Becoming the King / Charlie and the Ooters Sample

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I didn’t budge. I didn’t want to consider getting out of my warm, cozy bed to shut off the alarm. I set the clock on the other side of my room for the sole purpose of leaving my bed. I needed to avoid the temptation of going back to sleep. These days, all I want to do is sleep and not face my miserable life.

Today isn’t a good day to try to teach my mind a new trick, so my mom barged into the room and took care of the clock for me.

“Time to wake up, Charlie.”

I turned over and kept my face buried in my pillow.

“Charlie! Now!”

She dragged my blanket to the end of the bed as she left the room. We aren’t getting along so well, and that’s an understatement.

The problems between us started when we moved to this new neighborhood. The city, Redondo Beach, isn’t “new,” but more so, new to me. Other than being forced to go to school, I have no reason to get out of bed. I no longer have any friends, or at least, no one to hang out with.

I pulled the blanket back over my body and tried to go back to sleep. In the distance, the front door shut and a minute later my mom’s car started. Once again, she’s hurrying out of the driveway, heading to work.

I rolled over onto my back and wiped the sleep from my eyes, kicked the blanket off while acknowledging how yesterday sucked. I experienced a long boring summer that has crashed into a place I don’t feel welcomed. I’m only in day two of my freshman year and I see nothing in which to be excited. I didn’t make any friends, and the kids that do live on my block are way too young. I now live too far from where I grew up… at least five miles. No familiar faces brighten my day or make me laugh. I’m always alone, I’m angry, and I hate this place.

A new city, a new school, and yeah, again… my freshman year of high school… only four whole years to go. I took a deep breath and slithered my body out of bed. Not so long ago, I ran two to five miles every morning.

Screw this!

Forcing my feet through my pants and into my shoes… I’m not going to make this easy for her. She shouldn’t have moved us here. What goes around comes around.

I grabbed my pack and a couple bucks from the lunch money jar. Though the walk to school isn’t as far as when in middle school, the walk still sucked.

A few blocks from school, I spotted her, Ronnie, World Geography, first period, hot, super-hot. I’m pretty sure I’m not even on her radar. I crossed the street and tried to catch up to her. Knowing myself the way I do, I wouldn’t say anything, but to make sure she’s aware I’m here, I skipped my step to grab her attention.

When she glanced over her shoulder, I smiled and nodded but didn’t receive any reaction. Yeah, this is a friendly town. God, I wish to be back where I belong. Among friends that acknowledged I exist.

Upon entry to the school, Aviation High, a strong breeze kicked up. One of two girls working on a pep rally banner, chased a loose end that somehow cut away from between two poles. Back and forth the girl ran. I’m not sure if the girl chased the banner, or the banner chased the girl, but then, like a shark, the banner tapped the girl twice right before devouring her. The girl’s scream came right out of a horror movie, and all the while, her friend laughed. Together they secured the banner and taped it to the pole. The first bell rang.

Oh geez! I still need to go to my locker.

My first period teacher, Mr. Lancert, is an old goat of a man with a hairy chin as proof. I only needed to witness him chew some hay for confirmation. He called on me yesterday to answer a question for which I had no answer. He called on the guy next to me; a big dork wearing a football jersey, Billy something-or-other… Billy-the-dorkman.

I call the guy a dork because yesterday, when Lancert got busy writing something on the board, Billy shoved my books off my desk and smiled like a jerk. Since Billy-the-dork is much bigger than me, I didn’t do anything.

Mr. Lancert turned, looked at me for a moment and suggested I pick up my books. I took a deep breath and did as told. When he turned his back, Billy tried to push them off again. This time I held on to the books and did something which surprised me. I grabbed Billy’s fingers, twisted them back, stood up and popped him in the mouth. Least… I wanted to, but I didn’t. Instead, I sat and guarded my desk.

When Ronnie looked at the dork, he smiled and waved all cutesy at her. She snubbed him, and in an instant, I thought… Well, least I’m not the only one who gets the cold shoulder.

“Mr. Marks, would you put your attention to the front of the room.”

I admit it is hard paying attention when someone as cute as Ronnie is so mesmerizing. Mr. Lancert sure is asking a lot of me.

“Mr. Marks?”

I turned and faced forward.

“Would you like to share your thoughts, Mr. Marks?”

I’m not about to share anything, but the dork didn’t hesitate.

“He’s got a crush on Ronnie.”

It seemed like everyone in class began to laugh. I sat quietly… trying to let this all pass. “You’re real funny dork,” I accused in my silence.

The bell couldn’t ring soon enough. I grabbed my things and headed to my next class. English Lit, I’m sure, isn’t going to be much better, but at least the dork wouldn’t be in the class.

I went to my locker to change books and jerked my neck as I did a double take. Ronnie’s locker is four doors down from mine. She caught me looking at her and didn’t say anything as she turned and walked away. Embarrassed, I closed my locker as I shook my head in disgust… Screw this school!

Second period, English Lit, shouldn’t be too hard. Right away, our teacher, Mrs. Baret, handed out books… Romeo and Juliette. She said something about paying attention because we are going to have to recite passages from the story. Great! Where are my windows?

I looked around and found my daydreaming windows high-up in the back of the room. Okay, this isn’t going to work. I listened and followed along as other kids read aloud. When my turn came, for some reason, I stuttered over the words. I’m not into this love story. How can I be when I hate my life?

I’m sure I sounded like an idiot. I got through a couple of paragraphs when Mrs. Baret must have got tired of me stuttering over words and decided to call on someone else.

I’m sure my face is red… as if all eyes are on me. As I look around, no one is paying me any attention. Their faces are buried in the book. I fantasized for a moment… “Romeo Romeo for where art thou my Romeo? Here I am Ronnie.” The bell cut my daydream short, so I made sure the book went to the bottom of my pack where nothing comes out from the deep, dark abyss.

As students passed by on the way out of class, I began to wonder what my real friends are doing right now. Leonardo is back east somewhere in a private school. No doubt he’s doing great. He does well wherever he goes. Jennifer moved after eighth grade graduation. They had to move because her dad ended up going to jail, and her mom couldn’t afford the mortgage by herself. Though I used to make fun of Jennifer, wherever she is, I hope she’s okay.

Third, fourth, lunch and fifth period passed without any tension from my so-called peers. Sixth period is a home economics class, and since my mom wouldn’t let me play football, I didn’t get a sixth period P.E. When I learned the dork is on the football team, I wished to be on the team just to practice against him… possibly hurt him. I might be shorter than the dork, but he’s bringing out the giant in me. Hmm, other than some arguments with my mom about moving, I don’t remember the last time I became angry at one of my peers or wanted to fight someone.

I bet the kids here would like me more if my connection to Wylie D. Hooper became evident. Right now, it’d be nice to have a friend. Though I’m not sure I need a friend who likes me because of my connections.

Nickel and I played phone tag a couple of times, but catching up with him is tough because he’s so busy. I’m sure he’s easier to contact by email, but we’ve been here for most of the summer and still don’t have the Internet hooked up. The story of my life seems to be… out of sight, out of mind… Charlie Marks disappears somewhere in society, doesn’t make the news at eleven.

After school, I didn’t have any place important to be, so I hung out on the football bleachers to check out the freshman team practice. The dork from first period is one of the running backs.

Wishing… Somebody hit him hard for me, please. Then, in an instant… bam! Ask and you shall receive. The dork landed flat on his back… down for the count. He didn’t move for a solid minute. As the coaches rushed in, the team took a knee to wait. When the dork recovered, the team helped him to his feet, and the head coach, Coach Reese, went and reprimanded player number 25… my new favorite player.

The coach yelled something to the team about this only being practice and not hurting your teammates. Wait for the game and injure the opponent.

Like hell… the dork got his comin’s.

How I wish at the moment of impact, I could’ve taken off a helmet and revealed myself as #25. Note to self, buy #25 lunch and ask him to flatten the dork again.

Geez, Charlie… you really sound angry these days.

I listened to my suggestion and thought for a moment that maybe I needed to lighten up.

As the football team continued to scrimmage, I caught sight of a girl running on the other side of the track. Wearing track shoes and the suit, she kicked up dirt like nobody’s business. I mean the girl is fast. Racing around the last turn and into the home stretch, I couldn’t believe my eyes… Ronnie. She crossed the finish line and stuck her chest out as though in a real race. Okay Charlie, you have something in common. She runs, you run. She runs fast, you run… okay… she runs fast.

Some guys from the football team couldn’t help but to check her out and make some comments along with some whistling. What’s she gonna do? Does she? Does she? Yes! She snubbed them. Now I don’t feel so all alone.

She went over to her starting line and got set. As if a starter pistol had fired, she shot out like a bullet. She ran about twenty steps and stopped. Going back to the line, she got set, and bang, she kicked off the line again. She must have done this at least 20 times. Talk about dedication… the track season is a good three or four months away.

Practicing? Hmm. I remembered Tobias telling me, “Don’t wait until the last minute to be ready for your one shot to make the team.” Tobias would be a senior now. Last time we played ball is about two years ago. He inspired me to stay away from drugs and be a great player. I hope I got the greatness down.

Tobias struggled from the second team sidelines and became team captain. That, to me, is impressive. When I look at Ronnie practicing on her own time… she’s captain material… a leader.

You’re witnessing what drive looks like, Charlie. Why don’t you find your drive?

At the far end of the football field, cheerleaders kicked, pom-pommed and threw their arms every which way… jumping as though excited. I guess cheerleaders learn to fake it early in life… practice makes perfect.

Ronnie’s so hot, she should be a cheerleader, but no… she’s a different type of competitor; too cute with a tomboy edge. She would rather wear spiked shoes than do a rah-rah shish boom bah.

Still seated on the bleachers, I took a book out of my backpack and pretended to be reading… in case Ronnie happened to look up at me.

Since my attention wandered from the football team, when I looked back, like magic, they somehow disappeared. Hmm, practice must be over. I’ll decide to stay seated because if Ronnie sees me alone, maybe she’ll come over to talk. Yeah, right!

Right before Ronnie would set herself into a starting position, she shook out the muscles in her legs. I looked again and couldn’t help but to admire her overall fitness. Having only seen her in regular clothes, I never would have guessed she is so solid. Her track suit, shoes and dedication informed me she’s as serious as a half-court swish.

Somewhere in the distance, someone whistled a few times, and when I looked for who would respond, Ronnie grabbed her workout bag and backpack and left the track.

The whistler wore football pants and a t-shirt. In his hand he carried shoulder pads with the helmet tucked through as a handle. As he and Ronnie walked away, the number 25 visibly hung out from the helmet. I took a deep breath and thought… She’s got a boyfriend who is a football star. No wonder she snubs the guys.

As Ronnie and her boyfriend walked, the dork came running and passed them. When #25 turned to view who was coming from behind, I recognized him. He’s in my English Lit class. I’m going to have to make friends with him… I have to do the right thing if I’m going to be dating his girlfriend… ha-ha.

The field and the track emptied out, and the cheerleaders left. I stepped down from the bleachers and walked out to the 50-yard line. Looking back to where I sat, I don’t think Ronnie would have recognized me.

On the 50, I looked at each end zone and recalled a metaphor I made a couple years ago. I repeated aloud…

“Life will hit you hard… don’t drop the ball.”

I stood in place and turned in a slow circle… This is your life Charlie, what’re you gonna do? Hut one, hut two, hike!

With my backpack on, I performed a slow down and out, pretended to catch a ball, and began zigzagging in slow motion toward the goal line. Speaking to myself aloud…

“I’ve let myself be tackled! Hit harder than ever! What happened to the belief in myself? Things I wanted to do? Why do I feel so out of place? The prince wouldn’t feel this way. He would make the best of his circumstances. He taught me to reach out… make a friend. Why am I not reaching out? Run Charlie, run! Step up your game and run! Live again!”

Trying to encourage myself, I stopped a foot before the goal line and lost all feelings of desire, or motivation. My backpack fell off my shoulders.

“What am I doing?”

I didn’t answer. I swung my backpack over my shoulder and started my hike home.

At home, I read the required chapters of Romeo and Juliet. In place of Juliet, I put Ronnie’s name, and of course, I’m Romeo. I’m not sure I would want to talk like they did, but for Ronnie, I would try.

Finished with homework, a bag of chips in hand, I grabbed the remote control and began channel surfing. We are limited in channels since we have yet to hook up the Internet. I don’t know why my mom is waiting, we both need it… me for school, her for work.

Recalling… I had a bad TV habit until meeting the prince, then I decided to live and get out of the house as much as possible… running, shooting hoops at the park. The nearest park to my house, now, seems like a hundred miles away. I thought about using the outdoor baskets at the school, but why go back to a hellhole?

I clicked the TV off and sat in silence, realizing I did my homework as soon as I got home… at least one discipline stuck with me.

The voice in my head started talking… Go to the park, Charlie. Practice!

I wanted to, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to sit and pity myself a while longer. I’m well aware of the pity. Nickel and I discussed many topics regarding people who feel sorry for themselves, and how they often wait for others to give them permission to do something. He told me to never pity or let myself believe I must need someone else’s approval. If I want something, then I need to stand up and take charge.

Nickel taught me about personal mantras. One mantra I used many times… Step up! Take charge! Now!

Repeating louder and louder each time, actually made me step up and take charge immediately.

Sitting in the living room, I started repeating the mantra louder and louder… Step up! Take charge! Now! Step up! Take charge! Now!

Within a minute, the louder I voiced the mantra, I stood up, grabbed my basketball, and headed out the door to the park… which is really only about four blocks over.

Dribbling to the park, I crossed a street, as a car pulled up to the stop. I glanced at the driver, but what really caught my eye was the passenger. Good ol’ #25 rode in the passenger seat, and when I did a second look, Ronnie sat in the back.

Wow! Yeah, sometimes boyfriends are treated like family, they ride up front, but #25 is plain ol’ lucky… a hottie for a girlfriend, and her family sits him up front before her.

I kept walking and four long blocks later; I entered the park. The courts, as majestically pristine as they are, nice clay paving, are totally empty… not in use.

I’m serious, no one is here. What kind of park is this? Three great courts to choose from and not one game being played.

Back home in Hawthorne, I played on asphalt. Trip up once and you might bleed to death. Huh! What a difference.

I took my first shot from the outside, three-pointer, swoosh! BAM! Again, from the other side of the court, three, swoosh, snap! — went the net.

I can own this court. I stated dangerously within.

Dribbling, making sharp moves, I began announcing a game as I battled an invisible foe…Charlie Marks, the incredible freshman out of Hawthorne, California, excuse me, no longer out of Hawthorne, is voted all league champion and is being scouted by prominent colleges across America.

I dropped another three-pointer… BAM! The crowd went wild. I looked around at the empty courts and the more than obvious missing crowd. I laughed a little. If imagination is the only thing I have right now, then more power to me. Imagination is my friend. Not to replace my pillow, but you catch what I mean.

Taking my place at the free-throw line, I decided 50 shots are in order… take myself back to a better time.

By shot number 25, I was 22 and three. You can take the basketball away from the boy, but you can’t take the boy away from basketball. When the game is in your blood, it’s deep. By 45 shots, I hit 41 and missed four. I can do this. I can tie Wylie’s record of 46.

I stood motionless before each shot. Forty-two, 43, 44, 45. About to take one last shot, I took a breath, aimed, and hesitated… stepping back from the line.

Concentrate Charlie! This is where you separate the men from the boys. No pressure! Make one more shot and you tie the great Wylie D. Hooper.

I bounced the ball a couple more times as I stared down the basket. Taking a breath, I exhaled and… Form Charlie, form.

I took the shot and the ball bounced once, twice, three times on the rim and then… finally rolled in.

“Yeeeeehaaa!!!!!” I yelled so loud I’m sure they heard me all the way back at Rosemont Junior High.

Though I’m all alone, I didn’t care. I shouted out for the world… Wylie D. Hooper, I tied your record.

Granted, I’m two years older than him at the time he set the record, but I don’t care… I tied him.

Forty-six free throws out of 50… right next to impossible. If I did the math, I shot thousands upon thousands of free-throws. Not too impressive, but again… I don’t care… I tied Wylie. Now I need to beat the score… 47 or more out of 50. I looked at the basket and decided I wouldn’t try…today… but definitely another day.

Beside myself, happy as could be, for a good few minutes I became downright giddy. Standing, staring at the basket like an old arch enemy, I decided to take a shot with my left hand and found I’m weak. I began dribbling through my legs, switching hands and working my left, I thought about Leonardo and his ability to use either hand like normal.

Tobias telling me to be aggressive and not be afraid of some contact, made me feel amped up. I thought about Ronnie and all the line-starts she practiced. I began dribbling as fast as possible up and down the court. Switching hands, but working my left a little more often… I want to teach myself to have total control.

“Don’t wait until the last minute to be ready for your one shot to make the team.”

I spoke out to the world… “Wherever you are, thank you Tobias.”

I dropped the ball and went to the inbound line behind the basket. Time to run, Charlie. Time to run.

I did suicides… running drills up and down the court. Sprint to the first quarter line and backwards to the start. You sprint to the half court line and run backwards to the start. I continued to three quarters, then the full court. The four times up and down the court, equaling one set… I did five sets.

I’m going to need better shoes if I keep this up. Maybe now I can talk my mom into some Wylie D. Hooper signature shoes.

By the end of my drills, sweating like a big fat freaking pig, I decided to go home. The park lights over the court began to flicker which signaled it would soon be dark. I took one last three-point shot… BAM! Swoosh!

Dribbling my way home, what I thought to be a shortcut, turned out to be not so short, but funny the things you learn when you take the long way home. Turns out, I walked down Ronnie’s block. From across the street, movement in a big living room window caught my attention. Sure enough, Ronnie had something in her hand and paced back and forth.

I kept walking, and as I passed the house from the other side of the street, my bud, #25 pulled trash cans to the curb. What kind of boyfriend has to take out their trash? OMG! My ignorance struck me…Oh… stupid, Charlie! Geez, that’s her brother.

Things began making sense rather quickly… him being in the front seat of the car. He plays football and she runs track. They go home together. Replaying the whistling in my mind, it didn’t state… hey cutie what’s happening? It said, “Hey let’s go. I’m leaving.”

I stopped dribbling, not wanting to attract any attention, but too late, he caught sight of me. Though neither of us said anything, he kept looking… watching. A moment later, he went into the house.

A few more blocks and I was home. I think I’m going to drag my sorry butt out of bed tomorrow morning for a run. Since I took the whole summer off, maybe I need to consider a change to the way I’m doing things.

Upon entering the house, I found my mom in the kitchen, making dinner.

“How did school go today, Charlie?”

“Sucked as usual.”

“Did you make any new friends?”

“No. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you? For what?”

“For moving us here. We should have stayed in Hawthorne.”

My anger is getting the better of me, but I don’t care. If I don’t leave the kitchen, this will go to Defcon 1.

Defcon around here stands at five or four, but lately the anger has developed into longer bouts of will. Whoever has the will to go longer wins. I went to my room and lay down. No TV, no radio, nothing but pure silence. The room, so quiet, I may as well have been in the middle of some cornfield. I laid down to think about things… my tragic displacement.

When the front door closed hard… slammed, I lifted my head and looked around. Confused when my mom’s car started, I glanced at the clock. What the heck?

Apparently, I passed out when my head hit the pillow. Wow! What a great night of sleep.

Then I thought… she had left the house and didn’t try to wake me. She must still be fuming mad. Damn! I didn’t wake up for my run.

When I stood up, I felt pain in my legs. Sore from all the suicides I ran. I put my pants on, finished dressing and kind of hobbled to the kitchen to grab some money for lunch.

Nothing? No money in the lunch jar, and she didn’t make me anything. About to leave the kitchen, I figured out why she is upset. My dinner plate, still on the table… fried chicken and mashed potatoes, my favorite. I looked at the solid, cold chicken a little longer than I should have, and I kind of felt bad.

I’m outta here! No lunch! No money! No backpack! Where’s my pack?

I found my pack by the front door, grabbed it, and slammed the door behind me… forcing my pain ridden legs to school… Ah… another day in paradise.

Ring buzzer ring. Right when I shut my locker, the bell rang. I rushed to class, but Mr. Lancert shut the door as I tried to enter.

“You need to go to the office and return with a tardy slip if you want to come into this classroom.” He suggested in a rather stern tone.

After he shut the door in my face, I stood still for a minute… literally facing a closed, red, door.

What the…? Am I going to let him win? I don’t think so. Screw this!

I headed out to the football field and took a seat on the bleachers. I might as well have stayed home and slept if being fifteen seconds late is reason to ban me from class. Who needs World Geography? When will I ever use it? Probably never.

I leaned back and tried to find a comfortable position. They say you learn something new every day. I agree. I learned how uncomfortable sleeping on bleachers can be, unless of course you stretch out across the long way and use your backpack as a pillow. About fifteen minutes into a great little catnap, someone was clearing their throat.

Peeking out of one eye, I closed then opened both to view the principal with 20/20. He’s older than my other principals… 60ish, baldish, his hair thrown over-ish… a bad wrap-around. Why don’t they give up and shave their heads at some point? He asked why I’m laying here instead of in class.

“Um, because the floor in class is much colder?” I replied.

Quite obviously, he did not share my sense of humor. I proceeded to tell him about my two second tardy and the door finding its way shut in my face.

“If the teacher wants respect maybe he needs to be respectful.” I said.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Charlie Marks,”

He appeared thrown back for a second and…

“From what I know, Mr. Marks, respect is a two-way street. My name is John Barnell… Principal Barnell. I’m going to let you sit here until the end of first period, but I don’t want you out here again during class time. Okay?”

I nodded. This is the first break I have received since being here. For a break to come from the principal… well, I’m never on that end of the conversation. Mr. Barnell reached out to shake hands, and I gave him my best. He nodded and walked away. Off the bleachers, his hard shoes made a slight scuff on the pavement as he stopped and turned toward me…

“Charlie Marks, you said?”

I nodded. He turned again and left.

What’s that about?

I arrived early to second period. Principal Barnell was pretty cool to me, so I figured I would return the favor. Though English Lit isn’t my favorite class, and I stumbled over my words while reading, I would do okay. Since I learned to define words, my reading comprehension came way up.

Ronnie’s brother, #25, came into class and sat down. I wanted to talk with him, but he sat in the next row and up two seats forward of me. As other kids took their seat, he seemed kind of quiet and to himself. He didn’t talk to anyone.

Hmm, maybe he’s new here, as well.

Funny thing, Ronnie seems to be quiet and to herself. I’m going to bet they recently moved here, too. I looked around the room and some other kids also seemed quiet… keeping to themselves. Hmm? Maybe I’m onto something. Perhaps a new club? A new school and new neighborhood type of club? Out-of-towners, I’ll call ’em… Ooters.

Before Mrs. Baret started teaching, a gofer/messenger came into the class. He handed Mrs. Baret a note and exited. Looking over at me…

“Charlie, Mr. Barnell would like you to report to the office after school today.”

Oh great! What did I do now? A new school and the Principal has my name imprinted in his brain. Of course, I did meet him in person a little while ago, but geez.

I nodded to Mrs. Baret, and she continued with class. Other than the first period incident with Mr. Lancert and the Principal wanting to meet, things are looking up. Yeah… keep lying to yourself, Charlie. Things are looking up. We continued to read and discuss Romeo and Juliet. Thank God the bell rang.

Next stop, math… algebra.

I’m pretty strong in math thanks to Leonardo, who schooled me on the rules. Though the rules change per level of math, if you keep up to task, follow along, change with the changes, you can’t help but to do well. I will admit, once I stopped fighting with the formulas and learned the rules, everything got a lot easier.

I walked in to third period and took my seat. A thought crossed my mind, almost like a ghost crosses your path, quick and without warning. A whisper…Try …. Try what? I asked myself.

Since I’m the first one here, whoever sits down closest to me, I’ll take the opportunity to introduce myself.

A moment later, about a dozen kids came through the door. How am I going to pick one kid to befriend? With luck, Ronnie came in the class. She handed a paper to the teacher and said something about transferring her third period P.E. to sixth period. The teacher couldn’t help me any better… Ronnie took a seat right smack in front of me.

Conversation became rampant in my head, Okay Charlie. What do you say? What’s a good line? How about… are you following me? Do you come here often? I’m a Virgo, and you?

Ronnie sat down and I took a moment to think. Equals, we’re equals. I tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned in her seat.

“We are in first period together, though we’ve never said hello. So, hi, I’m Charlie Marks.”

She nodded and… “I’m Ronnie.”

How simple. No games, no gimmicks, no lines… nothing but straight-forwardness. She turned back to face the front and I relaxed. The teacher, busy handing out our math worksheets, when Ronnie turned to hand them to me, her little ponytail whipped around, and again, revealed her sharp, yet super, cute profile. Tooooooo hot! I shouted inside my head.

Calm down Charlie! Be cool! Chill!

The teacher started lecturing, and for once in my life, I’m ahead of the game. Because of Leonardo, math is one of my better, stronger subjects. I’m almost able to solve the problems in my head… like my bio-dad… Mr. Invisible. I wonder what he’s doing. Has he talked to his dad yet? Will he or his dad ever move beyond their grudges? Stupid things people do! Oh, well.

Ronnie raised her hand and the teacher called on her.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

My ears perked up. My senses roared. Like a lion about to pounce on a rabbit, I have information she needs. The teacher explained the material again and asked if she understood. Ronnie nodded, but just in case, I whispered to her…

“I can explain the methods, the formulas, to solve the problems if you need help.”

Without looking, she responded to me by nodding. When she did, her ponytail bounced and I smiled… Okay Charlie, step away from the ponytail. This is bordering on obsessive.

As we left the class, I gave her my phone number and told her to call, then mentioned I wouldn’t explain math over the phone… I need to show her on paper. She agreed and we went our separate ways.

Period four where are you? Oh, yeah, where Ronnie isn’t. Oh, well.

I headed to the locker room to change. Doing P.E. right before lunch is kind of a good thing… if only I had lunch. Nickel’s words bounced around in my brain… “No one is going to look after you more than yourself. Your mom will try, but you have to be responsible for your life, Charlie.”

He’s right. In my anger, I decided not to bring lunch. I should have taken a few minutes to make one. I took a deep breath and rubbed my empty belly as I entered the locker room. Now I’ll have to wait until I’m home from school to eat.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday we’ll be running off campus. Monday is a one mile run, Wednesday is two miles, and Friday is a big loop of three miles. The first mile on Monday should be the easiest. I’m sure I’ll always the first one out of the gate, but I’m not yet sure if I’ll always the first one back… I’ve heard some guys cheat and take short cuts. Somewhere, I’m sure the cheating will catch up with them. Today is going to be a two-miler, and it may be painful as my legs are still sore from practicing at the park.

As usual, I’m the first out of the school’s main gate. I always try to find a pace man and there is one kid, Andy, who is “the kid.” I learned by observation he’s great at short distances and speed, but anything after a mile and a half, he starts to fade to the back of the pack. By the mile and a half mark, I’ll have a good hundred-yard lead. I mean… I have the lead over guys who don’t take the cheating route… the short cuts.

On Monday, I came in a little under a six-minute mile. Wednesday’s two-miler, I was a little over eleven minutes. I’m hoping these cutters, who come into campus at least two minutes ahead of me, will be caught by Coach Bracken. They need to learn about personal integrity and not taking short-cuts. Maybe they don’t like running, but why not at least reap the benefits? Still, I didn’t believe ratting them out is anything I need to do. When the gym teacher catches them, they’ll deal with whatever the sentence.

Volleyball, though not my favorite sport, is on the roster this week. What’s a shame is the four basketball courts sitting empty nearby… all because we have to be well-rounded individuals and experience more than the single sport in which I favor.

Of course, basketball has my name all over it. I can’t wait until tryouts and be able to show this school what I have to offer. I kind of see volleyball as a waste of my time since I figure I have about another month to ready myself for basketball tryouts.

I began analyzing how my time is being wasted by playing a sport in which I have no real desire or talent, voices started crying out…

“Fight! Fight!”

On one of the other volleyball courts, two guys started going at it… fists flying. Along with everyone else, I became entertained as Coach Bracken walked right in the middle of the fight and nearly caught a wild swinging fist.

Coach Bracken held his arms out and made some kind of gesture suggesting if they didn’t stop right now, he would stop the fight for them. The coach isn’t a big guy, but he is the wrestling coach, and from what I understand, in his day, he was a champion wrestler. Not like on TV, but like Olympic. Mr. B ended the fight and sent one of the kids to a bench seat. After telling everyone to continue playing, he took a walk with the other kid.

As we continued to volley, my attention wandered over to one of the kids and Mr. B. Standing face to face, the kid started pointing his finger in a demanding way. Mr. B shook his head and kept talking, then after a minute, he turned and blew his whistle… informing us P.E. is over and to go change clothes. I walked slowly by as Mr. B spoke to the other kid. In passing, Mr. B instructed the boy to show up after school to the gymnasium.

Hmm… what’s happening?

Maybe he told the other boy to show up, as well. Maybe he is going to have them fight in private. I guess I’ll be going to the gymnasium after school. Can this really happen?

Lunch came and went. I’m so freaking hungry I could eat a horse… well… maybe… maybe not. I wonder… did people used to eat horses? Hmm… not only did I not have a lunch today, but I also have no horse.

When the last class of the day ended, I headed over to the gym area. Sure enough, the two boys showed up and Mr. Bracken escorted them inside. As the door slowly closed, I slipped my fingers in and grabbed hold.

Making my way inside, I stood and tucked back beside a set of folded bleachers. I peeked around the corner and the three of them stood on a big rubber wrestling mat. The guys dropped their backpacks and went to the center of the mat with Mr. Bracken. He handed them each a protective headset. I guess he’s going to have them wrestle out their anger. Hmm… maybe I can wrestle Billy-the-dork here.

Suddenly, one of the boys didn’t want to wrestle and refused to put the headgear on, dropping it to the mat and speaking out…

“He started this. I protected myself. I didn’t want to fight.”

The other kid prodded, “You don’t want to fight ’cause you’re a sissy.”

Lucky for the one kid, Mr. B stood between them. The kid who dropped the gear picked it up with a look on his face which, in turn, changed the other kid’s mind. Now he didn’t want to fight. Oh… this soap opera is good. The bluff is called and the worm squirms. Mr. B gave them some instructions and showed them how to start from a standing position.

Mr. B instructed… when he blew the whistle, they should start wrestling. The best three out of five pins would be the victor.

I thought for a minute how this is kind of a productive way to settle an issue if anyone wanted to fight. Or, at least, productive for whoever wins… I guess… since the loser is going to feel bad. Hmm? The whistle chirped and they began to wrestle.

Now, I’m not a wrestler, but these two guys looked so goofy dancing around the mat, trying to push each other and take one another to the floor. I covered my mouth to squelch my laughing aloud. I realized neither of them wanted to be on the mat. Oh! Okay… here they go… they’re on the floor. Headlock on? Nope. Slipped one. Roll over, twist, lock the arms, good, trying to stand up, nope… come back here, grab, grab, lock those legs, full nelson, pin! Wow! This is getting stupid. I’m outta here. As I exited, the whistle chirped again. I can find out tomorrow who won.

I thought about my wasted time watching the two guys fight and asked myself why? What am I getting out of this? How did this improve my life? Unless, of course, maybe I should learn to wrestle.

Maybe wrestling for school will teach me some things about my ability to confront. Hmm… something to think about.

I made my way to the football bleachers… pretty sure Ronnie would be practicing her track work. On the football field, her brother broke through the line as if playing against a division of peewees. He grabbed the quarterback, but this time, he didn’t hurt him.

The play ended with the coach yelling at the linemen. Setting another play, once again, #25 rushed through to the quarterback within a second. I thought about how well he played his position. Kind of the same way Leonardo played basketball. They are so smooth at what they do, they are like magicians… almost impossible to figure out their act.

The next play, B-dork got the ball and ran right into my bud. Watching anyone run full speed and smack into a brick wall is painful, but I swear I’m going to buy #25 a gourmet lunch if he keeps B-dork down. Peanut butter and jelly doesn’t cut it for this guy.

I sat watching, and this time, B-dork didn’t recover as quick. Grabbing his chest and convulsing, it took a minute to realize the dork hit the #25 wall so hard, the wind knocked right out of him. Now, this may not sound nice… but all of a sudden, I realize how much I like watching football.

Glancing back over to Ronnie, she rounded the final quarter curve and ran hard to what I figured was her finish line. Running so fast, I had to wonder how long she would be able to keep going.

Whoa!

Ronnie continued to do another lap. I followed along from my seat, and when coming around the last quarter, she must have hit a marker because she hit some turbo thrusters and ran faster for 30 yards to the finish. I believe she must be planning for when she’s in an actual race. Man! Such speed… I’m impressed.

After she completed her run, and as she headed back to the finish line, someone whistled. I looked around and up toward the fenced area… another whistle came. Ronnie turned to look, waved, grabbed her gear and headed in the guy’s direction. Taking a solid look at him, he looked like one of those professional bodybuilders… almost, but not quite as massive as the Hulk.

I figured he must be her dad because the car she got into… is the same one as yesterday. I surmised this is a family of athletes. Dad is a bodybuilder, Ronnie is a track star, and good ol’ #25… a football hero. Again, maybe I should find out number #25’s name. If I’m going to be dating his “sister”… not his “girlfriend,” I might want to be on a first name basis. At least this time… dating is a possibility.

I stuck around for the rest of the football practice. Ronnie’s brother proved unstoppable. I’m surprised they keep him on the freshman team instead of moving him up. Heck, he’s as big, if not as strong, as some of the varsity guys for sure.

When practice was completed, I waited in front of the school to catch up with my soon to be, new bud. Though I’m hungry and need to eat, this came as more important to me.

Walking about 50 yards away from him, I called out…

“Hey!”

He stopped and looked over, waiting as I got closer.

“You’re in my second period class?” Then, just like I introduced myself to Ronnie.

He nodded and kept walking.

“My name is Charlie.”

“Yeah… you’re the guy who likes my sister.”

Instead of denying, I took evasive action… “What’s your name?”

“Chris.”

Holding out my hand to shake… “Nice to meet you, Chris.”

Kind of reluctant to shake my hand, he smirked… “Serious?”

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“You want to shake hands like the grown-ups.”

I asked him if he understood what a handshake represented and without a real answer, I began to explain about the battlefield and all.

“You learn something new every day.”

“I have a question for you Chris. Are you new to the area?”

“Yeah, we moved here from Montana. Why?”

“Well, I like to observe things and I think kids who are from here seem to be noisier because they’re familiar with everyone, and people like you, Ronnie, and me… we tend to be quiet. I figure quiet kids are new to the school and not quite comfortable. Of course, it is an unproven theory, but I bet I’m right. Have you made any friends outside of the football team?”

“No. Not yet. We moved here a couple of weeks before school started. I didn’t do any summer training here.”

“How’d you make the team?”

“My dad talked to the coach and showed him all of my stats regarding football.”

“You must be pretty good. What am I saying? You pummeled the dork yesterday.”

“Which one?” he asked.

I smiled at his answer… “Which one? Which dork? The one who got the wind knocked out of him today, Billy.” I said with a big grin of a smile.

“Awe Billy’s not bad. All he needs is more confidence in his size. He tries to make you think he’s tougher than he is. Stand up to him and he cowers.”

I’m not sure if Chris is telling me how to handle Billy-the-dork because Ronnie mentioned something, or if he is telling me what he would do. Hmm?

“Hey Charlie, why did the principal want to meet you after school?”

“What did he want me for? Oh my God! I forgot to report to Principal Barnell’s office. Oh geez!!”

“Glad I’m not in your shoes,” Chris smirked.

Asking Chris for his opinion, “You think I should go back?”

“He is the principal, Charlie. The man can mess with your whole day.”

Chris is right, plus, I didn’t need to make an enemy of the man who gave me my first break.

I said goodbye to Chris and headed back to the school. When I got to the admin office, I found the doors locked. I knocked and waited, but no one answered.

Oh man!

I looked through the windows of the office, it appeared dark and empty. When school is over, I guess these people leave as quickly as the students… they too, want out. Hmm… I bet the admin moaned all the way through school as kids and, now, they’re still answering the bell. Oh well, I guess I’ll meet with Mr. Barnell tomorrow. Maybe I’ll be here early and apologize.

I picked up my step and wanted to catch up to Chris again…. talking to myself on the way. So, he and Ronnie are from Montana. I never would have guessed… since they don’t have any accents like they’re from the country.

When I caught up with Chris, I told him the office was locked. Then I continued our conversation…

“Hey Chris, what do you think about this place? This school? The other kids?”

“Charlie, I’m so used to moving around from base to base, I don’t think about where I am, I just do what I do wherever I go.”

“Base to base?”

“Yeah. My dad is close to retiring from the military.”

“Oh, that’s your dad? He’s built big-time.”

“Yeah, my dad is big, but my brother Ricky, is built bigger. He competes in natural bodybuilding. When did you see him?”

“Ronnie went off with him. I saw him by the exit gates.”

“Yeah, Ricky trains Ronnie at the gym. I don’t have a mom. She left us when we were little.”

Why did he reveal personal info about his mom? Though I wanted to tell him I kind of understood the single parent deal, I didn’t say anything.

“So, Chris… not that anything is wrong with it, but why did you tell me about your mom leaving and didn’t have a second thought about sharing?”

Quiet for a second… “I throw it out early. Whenever I’m new somewhere regarding school, I meet someone like you, and it eventually comes up. So, for whatever reason, now I always throw it out early. Have at it.”

I smiled… “Well, I don’t have a dad so… have at it.” Pausing a moment… “Does Ronnie do the same?”