Strike (Cake) [Completed] (#Wattys2017)

6: In Too Deep

Calum sat at the desk he shared with his roommate. He was trying to do his assignment for Luke's class, but the words just weren't coming out of the pencil. The great idea he'd shared with Luke the day before had left his mind almost entirely. All he could remember was that it had to do with video games. And at this point, after everything that had happened yesterday afternoon and knowing that today was going to be just as hard during practice, he felt no desire to try and remember his idea or even do the assignment at all. He also had thirty problems for math to do, but he didn't even bother to open them on his computer.

Situation, no motivation, he thought, and wrote that down in the notebook where he put his lyric and melody ideas.

He knew in his mind that this meant he was right back where he started: focusing too much on football and not enough—not at all—on schoolwork. Luke would be displeased. But Luke didn't matter right now—football did. His position was in jeopardy and he had to do something about it.

He spent five minutes scrawling down a paragraph for Luke's assignment, then put it away to turn in tomorrow. He'd already been to his Psychology and Performance class early that morning, and he decided he could skip math today. He changed and bussed out to the practice field.

He spent nearly five hours at practice. Peter was there, but he sat out for about half of it because he kept getting headaches. He promised Calum they'd be gone by tomorrow for the game, or that he'd take some meds for them. Calum just wanted Peter to be okay. But Peter was stubborn, and Peter was going to play tomorrow no matter what Calum said. Calum only shook his head at him, thinking how much he admired his friend.

Calum had all eyes on him constantly. Apparently word had gotten around to the rest of the team about the incident, and everyone wanted to know who was going to do what next. Nobody was hit, thankfully, but Calum got knocked around once or twice by the tenures, and he was only passed the ball by sophomores or freshman. And yet, it was all motivation for him. He worked harder, sweated more, ached more, and scored every time he got the chance. He would steal the ball from the older players when they went against each other in teams, although he didn't get to do so with Chad. Chad was a force, and it still appeared that Chad was doing everything to spite Calum. And for what reason, truly?

The coach watched. He saw how well Calum was doing. He decided to talk to the seniors again. He decided he would make sure they knew Calum was not going to be leaving this team. He started to realize that if the older guys were going to threaten to leave or tell the Recreations board, then he could say fine, go ahead. And they would do nothing about it. They needed the team just as much as he did. This was all of their lives, or at least a huge part of it. Calum would be in, if not first string then as soon as possible after that. The second a senior messed up, Calum would step out to replace him.

By the end of the day, Calum was exhausted and revved, sunken and elated, all at the same time. All he felt was that football was his element, and when he was in it, nothing else mattered.

Deep down in his chest he could sense the pang of something. Something telling him this wasn't quite right; something was missing. That he was shirking some responsibility or leaving someone in the dust. Was this everything?

He ignored it. Unaware that the coach had already made his decision, Calum told himself that all he needed to do was focus on this because, if he didn't, the scrimmage might not turn out, and Coach might kick him off. Would kick him off. At this point, that was the only outcome Calum could see if he didn't do well tomorrow.