Standing By

3: Avery

***

I thought about the moment I first met Alex and what led to that moment. Mindlessly, I spread my fingers apart, and set them down into cool, green grass until the individual blades peeked through between each finger. I dragged my hand across, watching the blades bend, and then snap back into place as my hand continued along. I felt dazed. I felt I had no control. Too many things were going right for me, piecing together too perfectly. Now it was all falling apart. The universe had to do its job, it had to bring me back to reality and take away my good; it wasn't fair, right? I was too happy. I must've been taking more than my fair share from the world, so to even things out, it took everything back, and more. That's how the universe works.

***

I could feel the tension in the locker room as I slipped on my jersey, the familiar scent of sweat and old leather mingling with the clamor of pre-practice chatter. I'd never been one to shy away from confrontation, but as I scanned the room, I caught sight of a couple of guys from the team, Jake and Ty, whispering and snickering at something. Their eyes flicked toward me, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

It was always like this. Growing up in a neighborhood where you had to prove yourself, where respect was earned through strength and intimidation, had left me with a short fuse. My dad used to say, "You can't show weakness, son. This world is unforgiving." That mantra had been my lifeline, but it also made me a magnet for trouble. Sometimes, I hated the anger that surged through me like wildfire. It felt powerful, intoxicating even, but it came at a cost. I'd been suspended more than once for throwing punches when things got heated, and now I was walking a fine line, trying to keep my spot on the team and maybe, just maybe, earn a scholarship.

I gritted my teeth, shaking my head to dispel the thoughts swirling in my mind. I had to focus. We had a big game coming up, and all I needed to do was keep my head clear, let the anger simmer beneath the surface until I could unleash it on the field.

"Hey, Johnson! You think you can throw better this time, or are you just going to keep standing there looking pretty?" Ty's voice boomed across the locker room, drawing the attention of a few other guys. Laughter erupted around the room, the sound grating on my nerves. The words stung, and I felt my fists clench instinctively.

"How's that jaw feeling Ty?" I shot back, the heat in my voice cutting through the laughter. He smirked, but I could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. His face was behind the punch that sprained my wrist last week. He made a comment about "black guys in football" but I didn't give him a chance to finish it.

As I squared my shoulders and made my way toward the exit, I spotted Alex sitting on the bench, chatting with a friend, Damian I think, blissfully oblivious to the chaos surrounding him. His easy going nature was a stark contrast to the tension that clung to the locker room. It was strange how effortlessly he seemed to glide through life, as if the weight of the world hadn't pressed down on his shoulders.

His bright green eyes sparkled as he focused on his friend, using his hands while he spoke, and I couldn't help but notice the way his arm muscles flexed, the subtle play of tension and release as he ran a hand through his hair. There was something disarming about him, something that made my anger seem trivial. Maybe it was the way he approached life, a kind of unspoken assurance that everything would be okay, even in the face of uncertainty.

I took a breath, letting the atmosphere of the locker room fade into the background. I watched as his friend stood up and walked away. Alex reached for his own bag, standing up too. A thought popped into my head, and I put it into action before I could change my mind. I jogged over to him, and forced a smile. "Hey, Mason. You playing for the team tonight or just for fun?"