False Start (Boyxboy)

5: MUDDLED

That night I laid awake for hours, trying to figure out my feelings, and trying to keep myself from considering the possibility that I was attracted to guys. I just couldn't digest the thought.

Even so, my eyes kept wanting to wander in the locker room the next day. Did the others ever look around? As Keiji pulled the shirt off of his back, I couldn't help but notice how the bones of his hips jutted out, sculpting a dip that trailed down into the elastic waistline of his underwear. He looked good, whether I wanted to admit it or not. Wasn't it natural to think so? Would he think the same of me? I didn't usually feel so self-conscious. For most of the practice I refused to face anyone, afraid that my thoughts were discernible.

On Thursdays we did speed runs. Rain clobbered us as we lapped the school's baseball field, skidding in the mud. Keiji was keeping pace with the varsity guys up ahead of me, just like he'd done during the meet, and they were cackling like kids. He'd wrapped a plastic bag around his cast to shield it from the downpour and it was flapping in the wind or something. It was sort of funny, but I bit back my laughter.

When was the last time I'd made Keiji crack up like that?

"Souda."

The coach had appeared beside me, huffing out my surname as he jogged at a speed slightly faster than mine, splashing through puddles. His manner was menacing. With him by my side I strained to keep good form, attempting to pick up my knees and stay in stride with him.

"Coach?"

He looked straight ahead, jaw squared, as he spoke over the sound of the weather. "Get out of your head."

The words rung in my ears for a few steps.

"People want to see you do well in life, but they don't want to see you do better than them. Never let that keep you from reaching your full potential. You are your competition. Now, pick it up!"

After saying his piece, he veered off to match up with Shun, yelling at him to go faster.

I pumped my arms with more force, spitting out the rain that pooled in my mouth. The white shirt I wore clung to my torso, making me aware of my muscles rippling beneath it.

Coach's cryptic advice had ignited something within me. Something like anger. This strong desire to surpass Keiji, to feel pride, took reign over my emotions.

Once we'd all come sliding to a halt by the home base, Yamamoto directed us to take a seat in the dugout. He was really unhappy with our performance. Everyone was quiet, heads hanging in shame.

"You can't let a little rain affect your times this much," Coach said after a tense silence. There was a sharp edge to his voice. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, a million times until it's hammered into your adolescent heads: Running is a mental sport." He was making impassioned gestures with his hands. "You have to decide your goal and really go after it. I'm not feeling like any of you have your whole hearts in this. You're not really committed." He rubbed at his chin, the frustration he felt evident in his movements.

I looked up from my muddy shoes, glancing around at my somber teammates. We were all soaked and had these miserable expressions tugging at our faces. I don't know if I'd ever seen Keiji so serious.

"All, right, it's decided," Coach said. "I don't care what parties you want to go to this weekend or what romantic dates you have planned. We're going to running camp tomorrow."

Everyone straightened up a little. A few started to protest.

"You all have no reason to complain. You'll get out a few class periods early. Meet at the bus loop after your lunches with your bags packed for two nights."

No one moved for a moment as we let this sink in.

"And Fujikawa," Coach bellowed, burning a hole in Keiji with his hot stare, "congratulations."

Everyone whipped their heads in my friend's direction. My heart skipped a beat. He stiffened as he held Yamamoto's gaze, anxiously waiting to hear what came next.

"You made it onto varsity."

Keiji's irises quivered.

"I'm sorry, Fukui. You were the seventh runner. Fujikawa beat your time at yesterday's meet."

The inhale Hiro drew then was audible. He looked around in disbelief, rising to his feet and clenching his fingers into fists. "What? That can't be!"

Yamamoto was stiff as a statue, holding firm to his resolve. "Maybe if you'd been less of a clown and taken things more seriously, this wouldn't have happened."

Hiro staggered backward. With bared teeth, he flickered his fiery gaze to my friend. It was like he was throwing as much hatred and hurt as he could at him. Before Keiji could say anything, Hiro was sprinting out of the dugout.

"Hiro!" Toyomi called after him, worry creasing lines into his face.

Mori sighed a heavy sigh. "Don't worry about him. He'll come around."

Concerned glances were exchanged between us all.

"Well, congratulations, Kei," Niou finally spoke up, offering a soft smile.

"Yeah, congrats!" Shun said, adding a slap on the back.

Keiji's unease started to melt away, his shoulders sagging and a twinkle appearing in his eyes. "Thanks, guys."

He was so content with the praise he was getting that he didn't look in my direction. I felt like he hardly looked at me anymore. A pang of dejection gnawed at my gut.

I had to hold back tears, and I hated myself for it. Because Keiji looked so happy and he deserved it all, even though it killed me.