Nathaniel Jean's Senior Year

1 : Nathaniel Jean's Little Big Problem

Video on the side has nothing to do with the chapter or the book in general but it's great so you should watch it, it's called "The bro duet" and it's super gay but #nohomo

"Fuck."

      I blinked, unimpressed, at Trevor Cazamm as he suddenly halted in the middle of the hallway, holding out his arm and forcing me to stop as well. "What'd you forget?" I asked dryly; we've done this drill before.

     "My cleats."

    I snorted loudly and resumed walking, not surprised in the slightest that Trevor would manage to forget something so pivotal. He scrambled to catch up with me, going into some long story about how he must have left them in his living room, at which point I promptly tuned him out.

     Trevor is my best friend, I guess. I mean, he's the closest friend I've got out of all the assholes in my shitty little town. Would I die for him? Hah, I wouldn't give up ten bucks for him, and I was sure he felt the same about me. We were friends because we were available—we were both popular, we'd played on the same club and school soccer teams for years, and he was the most tolerable out of the rest of the soccer players. That wasn't to say that Trevor wasn't entirely superficial like the rest of them, but he was a slight improvement.

     Then again, all of the "superficial" soccer players were also supposed to be my friends. They considered me a friend, sure, and they were certainly convenient to know, given that they were pretty much the reigning elite class of Listrougth High School. Our football team sucked more ass than a gay porn star, and so the students and faculty turned to us soccer players for someone to glorify.

     There was Damien Diggory, our goalie. Tall, handsome, and as dumb as a rock. He was undoubtably popular, and so intimidating in stature and demeanor that no idiot would dare even look at him the wrong way. Guys like Damien were good to have around, because they offered security.

     Next was Cameron Schetwaldski, the best midfielder his age in Nebraska. Cameron was absolutely full of himself and an overall pain in the ass, but he was funny and quick-witted. People liked him for that, and it was nice to have someone around who could always ease the tension.

Tyler Fiero—our left and best defender—was another notable character. He was just a character in general, really. A serious prankster, loud, stupid, and obnoxiously quick to start a fight for someone his size—that is, five foot six and one hundred twenty-five pounds. Hanging around a person as memorable as him had its perks; he was such a distraction that my mistakes often went unnoticed.

      Trevor Cazamm was our next best midfielder, and probably the smartest guy on the soccer team. Which is sort of like being the fastest snail. He was nice, yeah. Funny. Popular. A god guy to have around for light support every now and then. A bad guy to have around to truly lean on in times of weakness, because he'd step out of the way and let you fall without a second thought.

Possibly my least favorite member of my little "friend" group was Shawn Morgan. He was a great forward, but a pretty shitty person overall. Not that I'd ever voice that, because he was possibly the one person at our preppy private school that had more power than I did. Unlike me, Shawn had always been popular. He'd had girls fawning over him since his sandbox days, and loved to abuse the power he seemed to hold over women. Almost as much as he loved to abuse his brother.

     When word got around that Lucas Morgan was gay—to this day, I still didn't know how anybody found out—Shawn was the first to show his distaste, and he didn't do it alone. He had enough supporters as it was, being the so-called "king" of our school. It didn't help that our entire town was very catholic and very conservative. That said, Shawn had more than enough people to back him up if he wanted to bully his brother, and nowhere near enough opposers. Homophobia was a part of our brand here in Nowhere, Nebraska.