My Favorite Story: Someday Out of The Blue

CHAPTER 1: YOUR STARTER FOR

Someday Out Of the Blue

By LittleBuddhaTW

Special thanks to Kitty (PiscesRising) from GayAuthors.org for editing!

CHAPTER 1: YOUR STARTER FOR ...

RIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGG!!!!!!! As the bell for the end of the day sounded, I jumped out of my seat at the back of the classroom and quickly made my way out the door. Three weeks into my sophomore year at an all new school (having moved here over the summer with my mom -- although I use that term loosely, as she has never done much "mothering" since I came to live with her when I was nine), I had already developed a routine. I had to catch a public bus to get home (another term I use loosely, since it's always hard to call the trailers we lived in "home"), but if I didn't run to the bus stop as soon as I got out of class, I'd miss the bus and have to wait thirty minutes for the next one. So, I made my way through the halls, dodging the masses of students, at the same time remaining vigilant, lest I come across one or more of the bullies that had taken it upon themselves to give me a hard time since my first day. Usually it was just getting tripped in the hallway, shoved from behind, getting slammed into my locker, and of course the requisite name-calling, like "pussy boy," "loser," and "cocksucker." I'd found that bullies usually weren't that creative with their insults. The worst of them, the one who seemed to instigate all of it, was Trent Lomax - the King of Assholes. He wasn't the most popular kid in school, but he had his own group of friends and played on the school's basketball team. I was usually a target for him and his friends, considering the fact that I wasn't very big (I think "scrawny" is the word I've heard used to describe me), was obviously a "poor kid" (whereas Trent seemed to have plenty of money, what with the BMW he drove and designer clothes he wore every day), and never fought back. At least the small amount of bullying I had to endure at school was nothing compared to what I often had to face at home. Anyway, my sprint to the bus stop usually took about ten minutes, and I'd figured it was at least a way for me to get a little exercise. I'd gotten to be pretty fast over the years, having to run away from my mom and the numerous "boyfriends" she brought home with her from time to time after long nights spent out drinking, as well as from the aforementioned bullies. Shortly after I'd begun my after-school routine of sprinting to the bus stop, I'd learned of a short cut, by going across the sports practice field at the side of the school. As I started running down the slope towards the field, I noticed that they were having lacrosse practice ... a game I had absolutely no clue about, and had never even heard of until we moved here. Apparently, at our school, though, lacrosse was a big deal, but I'd never really paid much attention to sports of any kind. Anyway, I wasn't making very good time, so I just ran as hard as I could, not paying much attention to what was going on around me. I'd already made it about halfway across the field, when ... WHACK! I felt a sharp pain on my head and suddenly everything went dark. Slowly, I started to hear noises all around me, something shaking my arm, and then the noises started to become a little clearer. "Hey kid, are you okay?!" "Can you hear me?!" "Coach, you'd better get over here!!!" As I started to process all of this in my now throbbing head, I slowly began to open my eyes, but everything looked blurry, and I felt a sharp pain shooting through my head. My eyes finally began to focus, and I noticed a middle-aged man with a dark moustache looking at me and frowning. I guessed that he must be "Coach," since he was wearing a ball cap with the school's logo on the front and a whistle around his neck. "Hey kid, are you okay? Can you hear me?" the coach asked. "Uhhh ..." was all that I was capable of mumbling at the moment. The coach flashed a few fingers in front of my face. "How many fingers am I holding up, kid?" he asked. "Uhhhh ... three?" I answered, hesitantly. "Good. Can you tell me your name?" "Yeah ... uhhhhh ... Connor ... Connor Matthews," I replied. "Excellent. Connor, we're gonna call an ambulance and get you to the emergency room to get that bump on your head looked at. You took a pretty good shot there," he said. The emergency room?! No, I did not want to go back there ... I'd been there too many times in the past. Hospitals freaked me out! "No!!! Wait!!! I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm fine, really! Please!" I managed to blurt out. "Son, you really need to get your head checked out, and we should get in touch with your mom or dad, too." "Uhhh ... I'm really ok, I promise ... just a little headache ... and my mom's ... uhhhh ... out of town ... and my dad doesn't live here," I replied, starting to panic a little. As I lay on the ground looking up at the coach, another face appeared in front of me, looking equally worried. It belonged to another teenager, obviously one of the lacrosse players since he was all decked out in his uniform and pads. I noticed that he had reddish brown hair, bright green eyes, and a really friendly face ... sometimes you just get that kind of vibe from people, I suppose. "Coach, I can take him home and let my mom check him out. She's a pediatrician. I'll call her at her office and ask her to meet us at my house. I'm the one who hit him, afterall, and it sounds like he really doesn't wanna go to the ER," the boy said. The coach looked over at the boy, his brow furrowed, and concern still evident on his face. "I'd still rather take him to the hospital, and it's not his call to make anyway. This happened on school property." "He said his mom's out of town, so who'd fill out his insurance information and sign for his treatment? It'd be a big hassle, trust me. It'll be a lot easier if I just take him home and let mom check him out. It'll be okay, really," the boy replied. "Ryan, there are all kinds of liability issues here. But, since I know your mom and she's a doctor, I suppose it will be alright, as long as she gives me a call as soon as she checks him out and gives him a clean bill of health." "No problem, Coach," the boy agreed. I didn't really like it when people were talking about me in front of my face as if I wasn't even there, but I still wasn't totally with it, and the prospect of possibly having to go to the hospital was wreaking havoc on my nerves. At the same time, I wasn't really thrilled with the idea of going off with some strange kid, either. See, I didn't deal well with people ... at all. Any kind of social situation or interaction terrified me. At my last school, about a year and a half before, I was diagnosed with "Generalized Social Anxiety Disorder" by the school psychiatrist after I'd had a bit of a panic attack. He wanted to give me a prescription for an anti-anxiety medicine, but of course my mom couldn't afford it, not like she really cared anyway. So, I had to live with this debilitating fear of people as well as the threat of panic attacks that occasionally washed over me. Fortunately, for the time being, I was still too dazed from the shot to my head, and my nerves were too frazzled to even think about having an attack ... at least I hoped so. I was already embarrassed enough lying prostrate on the ground, having just been smashed in the head with what I'm assuming was a lacrosse ball, and now being the center of attention with the coach and a group of kids hovering over me. I certainly did not need the added embarrassment of having a panic attack right then. The coach looked back toward me again. "Okay, kid. Ryan here is going to take you home and his mom'll check you out. Are you all right to stand up?" "Uhhh ... I think so," I replied nervously. I tried standing up, but soon realized that I was going to have a little trouble with balancing myself as I started to wobble. Before I fell down on my face, however, I suddenly felt a strong pair of arms around me. I looked up and it was the red-headed boy that was supposed to be taking me home to see his mom ... I guess his name was Ryan. "I've got ya, buddy. Don't worry," he said to me. "Uhhh ... thanks ... I guess I just have to get my sea legs," I said. SHIT! That was a really lame joke. He's totally gonna think I'm a loser now ... not that it would've taken him long to figure it out anyway. And then he just looked at me and wiggled his eyebrows. What the hell was that? "Let's go, bud," he said, and proceeded to wrap my arm around his neck and help me start to hobble off the field. "I really don't like this idea, Ryan," the coach called after us. "You'd better make sure your mom calls me right away, and if he starts to lose consciousness or anything at all seems wrong on the way home, you take him directly to the hospital and call me, do you understand?" "Yes, sir!" Ryan shouted back at the coach. Luckily for me, the parking lot wasn't far, and we made it to his car pretty quickly. It was dark green (I think the "technical" term would be "forest green") and looked like a newer model Toyota Camry. When he unlocked the passenger door and helped me slide in (he even buckled my seat belt for me!), I noticed how clean and new the inside of the car appeared. It had a really nice sound system and beige interior ... nothing like the rusted out tinbox-on-wheels my mom drove. He opened up the back door and threw his pads and gear in the back, then walked around to the driver's side and got in. "You okay there, Connor?" he asked. "Yeah, I think so. But hey ... uhhh ... Ryan? You can just drop me off at my house or something. I don't wanna bother you and your mom, and it really wasn't your fault ... I ... uhhh ... just wasn't watching where I was going. You really don't need to do this. I mean ... uhhh ... this is really nice of you and all, but I'm really fine ... honest." Wow! I couldn't believe I managed to string that many words together into a relatively coherent statement. That ball must've hit me harder than I thought. "No way, dude. That's a nasty bump you've got on your head there. You really should let my mom check it out. And you're not a bother at all, so just chill out, I promise it'll be okay." "Okay," I sighed. I guessed this was my own fault for running into a stupid lacrosse ball. I just hoped Ryan's mom wouldn't be like the other doctors I'd been to and start asking me all sorts of embarrassing questions ... plus, I wasn't really into the whole concept of "moms" either. I didn't like mine, and I didn't really expect other people's mothers to be all that much better. "Jeez, it can't be all that bad hanging out with me for a couple hours, man. I didn't think I was that ugly," he said, sticking out his bottom lip in a kind of mock pout. "No, no, no! I didn't mean that ... I'm sorry .... uhhh ... never mind ... I'm just being stupid." Jesus, I really needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. I'd been doing fine for the past few weeks at my new school by doing just that - keeping my stupid mouth shut. Here was someone actually trying to be nice to me (or so it seemed at the moment), and I was acting like a total moron! "Hey, it's okay, man. I was just joshin' ya!" he said. And then he winked at me. Okay ... first the "eyebrow wiggle," and now he's winking at me. So, now that I had reached the epitome of uncomfortableness, I just turned my head and looked out the passenger side window, hoping to get all of this over and done with as soon as possible and get home. Not that I really wanted to go home, but at least my mother probably wouldn't be around for a few days since she'd hooked up with her latest fling ... I'd stopped keeping track of their names about five years ago. The drive was short and uneventful. Ryan, to his credit, didn't try to engage me in anymore conversation, and I, for my part, just continued to stare out of the window. We finally pulled into the driveway of a really nice-looking two story house with a Victorian porch. It wasn't a mansion or anything, but it was big, especially compared to the shitty trailer that I lived in. "Okay, bud, let's get you inside, and then I'll call my mom." he said, looking over toward me. "Uhhh ... sure ... okay," I replied. Before I could get my seatbelt undone, he was already on my side of the car, opening the door and helping me to get out. He draped my arm around his neck again, leading me up onto the porch and into the house.