Social Clique

1. Paxton

1. Paxton

"Don't forget about football tryouts this afternoon," Dad shouts.

I dip my head lower and scowl as I submerge myself within the bustle of the morning crowd. I squeeze my backpack strap and sigh.

If there's any chance of me going to a good college without a lifetime of debt, I need a football scholarship. I'm good at school, just not good enough for an educational scholarship. Dad raised me on the football field, it's all I've ever known.

Getting into the football team, though, might be harder than impressing college scouts. The captain, my arch enemy, has hated me since primary school when I beat him in a sports competition.

In the centre of the school, there's a small courtyard with grass and trees which create shade from the harsh early morning sun.

Cammie is propped against a tree, her nose buried in another thick romance novel.

I swipe the book from her hands and she gasps until our eyes connect. Her brows knit together as she glares.

"You're an asshole! Give my book back before I beat you with it."

"Wow." My eyes go wide.

"I was in the middle of an emotional scene and you ruined it." She sighs.

"Yeah?" I raise an eyebrow.

"He was about to confess his love and now it'll never feel the same re-reading."

"I'm sorry."

I pass the book back and she inserts a bookmark and shoves it into her bag.

"Even though I want to be mad, I can't." Cammie groans.

I plonk on the grass and rest my shoulder against hers. Cammie hooks her arm through mine and rests her head against my shoulder.

"Are you ready for the tryouts?"

"No, but will you come?"

Cammie looks up and grins, her green eyes sparkle in the sun.

"With bells on my toes."

"Where does that expression come from. It's so weird if you think about it." I laugh.

"Uh, I have no idea." She shrugs.

The school siren rings and I jump up and offer a hand. She collects her bag and smiles as her fingers weave with mine. I tug her up and she slips her backpack on.

Chatter and shoes shuffling against the ground engulfs us. Cammie folds her arms and sighs.

"Another boring day at school," she groans. "I wish I could fall into one of my romance novels. It would beat mathematical equations on a Monday morning."

I just hope I'd fall into that book with her, cause I'd be lost without her.

* * * * *

I tug on the shoestring and undo the bow. With a sigh, I re-tie the lace and stand up. I've done my laces three times already. There's no avoiding these tryouts . . . I just need more time before I break my father's heart. I'm never making it onto the team.

Some scrawny kid who's definitely not making the team, walks out of the lockers and I follow. I join the group of people trying out and glance to the bleachers.

Dad and Cammie are sitting in the front row, bright smiles on their faces. I subtly wave before turning my undivided attention to Coach.

I can't think about the pressure from Dad, or the fact he's sitting with Cammie. I hope he doesn't say anything embarrassing.

A sharp blow to my back has me stumbling forward. I spin around and Mike chuckles as he moves to stand beside Coach.

Everyone's afraid of Mike, even his best friends.

In Kindy, our parents met and we became friends. We played all the time until we fell out. I'm glad we're not friends. I don't belong in their world.

Mike says something to his friends and they laugh as they look at the bleachers.

"We'll start today by running drills. There are few positions available, so I will be judging you harshly on speed, enducance, muscle and tactic. Impress me because I don't like time wasters."

* * * * *

I brush sweat from my forehead as I run to the bleachers. Dad grips on the railing and grins as I stagger to a stop.

"You crushed it." Cammie grins.

"Did you make it?"

"I'm on the bench, but-"

"Are you kidding me? You were the best person out there!"

"Coach said he'd consider putting me in the game after this week's training."

"We're going to train harder than ever. You deserve a spot on that team."

"Okay."

"Shower and let's go home. I'll be in the parking lot waiting for you."

Dad storms away while I lean against the railing.

"I thought you did amazing!"

"Thanks, Cammie."

"You stink though, and you probably shouldn't keep your father waiting."

"I'll see you tomorrow then." I sigh.

She grabs her bag and bounds away.

* * * * *