Give Me A Chance (boyxboy)

Twenty-Six

Next practice, I force myself to move a lot more. It's been nearly five weeks since Quinn beat me up, so they're really close to healing completely. I could run if I really wanted to, but there's a twinge when I do so, and it tells me to take it slow for a little while longer. But I'll keep taking part in practices. I don't care if the doctor told me not to. I've got to get back up to speed. I can't sit by and watch everyone prepare for the end-of-season tournament while I stand in the middle of the gym and throw them the discs. So I make myself move, rotate my torso, test my limits. My throwing is slowly getting close and closer to how it was before Quinn.

And I'm sort of taking part in our mock games. I'm scared of not being able to do enough, so I tend to sit on the sidelines most of the time while my teammates run the scrimmage. Occasionally I jump in for a couple minutes, but I really don't want to be a bother, a hindrance, which is what I feel I am.

A scrimmage is currently underway. I'm sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, back against the even colder wall. I pick at a stray thread on my shorts, a little bored, though I probably wouldn't admit it if someone were to ask me. I can see my hair falling over my face through my eyelashes.

I hear cheers and look up to see that Marc got a point in the far end. I smile seeing the joy on his face.

We're playing a five-on-five game because we got chased into the gym by rain, so four of us are off the floor, and a quick change of players happens. I stay out. My team's behind. No reason for me to put them behind more.

I watch as the disc gets pulled and they start playing again. I sigh, wishing I could be uninjured so I could be out there, at my best, being a help.

Phillip, who is standing on the sideline, catches my gaze. He almost looks nervous as I maintain eye contact. He's sweating and breathing heavily, but it almost seems like he's standing still.

He drops his gaze. Phillip looks away. Curious.

And he starts walking over to me. I don't know why, I've never really associated with him before. I try to avoid him usually. We've had a couple awkward short conversations during practice, and before, at tryouts, when he insulted me, and then in the changing room, when he weirdly decided he was going to help me. I'm almost ready to think he might actually be a good person.

"Hey," he says as he gets closer. He won't meet my eyes again. He sits down a couple feet away from me. I feel awkward now, and this silence is uncomfortable. He folds his legs in front of him and puts his hands on them weirdly.

"Hey," I say carefully, not quite knowing what this is. "Uh, what's up?" I say, and immediately cringe. Yikes.

He breathes out. "I want to apologize," he tells me, brushing a hair out of his face. He scratches the back of his neck anxiously. "I mean, I know it's been a long time coming, but I have to at least try."

I'm stupefied. "Where is this coming from?" I ask him, slightly angrily. "I heard what you said at tryouts." He grimaces. "And then you come out of the blue and help me put on the chest brace that time. What is going on?"

He flinches as my voice raises a little. "I'm sorry," he says, and it sounds sincere. Whether it is or not is another matter entirely. "I'm sorry for saying that to you. It was insensitive and just plain rude." He rubs his legs with his hands, and I recognize the nervous gesture. Mom does it all the time. "I have no way to justify why I said it. I've never really known you, I never really talked to you, it was the only thing I knew about you."

"That I'm gay?"

He nods. "I immediately regretted saying it as soon as it came out of my mouth, but I had already said it, so I couldn't try to apologize for it, especially when I think I meant it in that moment."