I don't wanna be your friend

Chapter 4

Cedric paid attention to nothing but the tennis balls that the spin shot-player kept throwing at him, with each ball being forced at him at the maximum velocity and his arm swinging with practised ease, hitting every shot with equal force and ferocity.

He paid no attention to how he was pulling a muscle in his right arm along with the muscles in his thighs with how hard he was going at it, how sweat slided down his neck and shoulders in rivulets— almost like his body was weeping for him to stop— from his soaked hair plastered to his forehead, how Raelynn and everyone else on the team was gaping at him with hanging jaws and expressions blended with awe and worry at how he didn't fail to hit a single shot wrong, or how Coach Cameron was worried seeing his immaculate performance.

None of it mattered to Cedric, and if he was being honest with himself, hitting all the shorts right— just like all other seen and unseen things—didn't matter as well. The force behind his aggregation was to find a string of reassurance, that even if his house was empty most evenings when he stepped in, that even if he had no one to talk to on lonely nights, that even if he had nothing to be proud of, he still had his skill that he could rely on— a skill that could represent him to mould an identity for him and blur every small thing into something that didn't matter.

All he could see was the florescent yellow balls, and everything else drowned into darkness, making them glow and pulling more of his attention. He swung his arm after hitting another shot, but his racket didn't contact the ball— just swished in the air, dragging it along— for there were no more balls to be shot at him.

Cedric stepped back, his arm still taut with the tight grip he had on his racket, still swinging slightly as he looked up to see that Coach Cameron had switched the spin shot machine off. Only as he stepped back and diverted his attention did he realise that he was breathing hard and almost out of breath, only now was he starting to realise how his head felt heavy with his drenched hair. He lifted his arm to wipe his hair off his forehead and hissed a little at how the tension in his stiff muscles made it difficult for them to move.

He wanted to stop Coach Cameron from interrupting his practice and making him lose his focus and momentum; he opened his mouth to say so, but he just breathed out, and nothing came out as he kept panting without his accord. His feet felt a little wobbly— which it usually did for a few minutes after all his practices— but after this particular one, it was a little more than usual.

"Lancaster, go the locker room, sit for a few minutes, breathe, and when you feel stable, take a bath, and you are excused from today's practice. Also, I won't let you come to practice tomorrow after school. I'll see you again on Monday. I need to talk to you, I'll meet you in few minutes." Coach Cameron ordered him and Cedric wanted to protest against his every word— it had been only 45 minutes into the practice, whereas he'd usually stretch it to around two and a half hours— but he couldn't get himself to do so. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew that he needed a break, but he didn't want to give in to his selfish urges, he didn't want to stop and see something that could divert him in the path to his goals, he couldn't let that happen.

Finding his balance, Cedric didn't bother to nod at his Coach or glance at Raelynn to reassure her that he was okay. He simply turned back and obliged to his Coach's orders.
He put his racket down carefully and sat down on the floor, leaning his back again the lockers which were cold metal against his sweaty, burning back— surprisingly comforting. He stretched his limbs and flexed his joints which made a cracking sound, releasing a little bit of tension residing in his muscles and began rolling his shoulders and neck.

After he felt his muscles lose a bit and his breathing even, he leaned he head on the locker and closed his eyes— wishing he could stay in this state, with time and motion frozen, with his eyes closed forever. He didn't know for how long he stayed in that still state of mind— walking in between the states of sleeping and staying awake but snapped into a wakeful state of mind when he heard the door of the locker room opening.