Animi Motus

1: Ira(pov #1)

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd seen it coming, and some might even tell you I deserved it. But now that it was actually happening, It just didn't feel real.

"Uh, could you say that again coach? I don't think I quite heard you right." I stammer. Oh you heard him right.

"You heard me Riley, you're off the team." I run my hand through my damp hair, every ounce of my very limited self control focused on not ripping it out of my head. "Is this really a surprise Riley?" He snorts. "You were lucky the school even agreed to let you play football, let alone turn a blind eye to the last seven brawls you've ensued! Seven, Riley!" Coach bellows. "I don't care how good you are anymore! You're a loose cannon, and I'm done watching you put my players in the hospital." I lift my head slowly, mouth slightly open, still processing his words. "Do you need me to repeat myself again!? Get out of my office and go clean out your locker!" Coach O'leary spoke with resolution, but when I look up at him, his eyes won't meet mine. He doesn't really want to do this. After a moment, I rise up out of the folding chair that I've sat in so many times before.

Placing my hands on his desk, I speak slowly, unable to hide the fury behind my words, "You're making a mistake coach." I walk across the room and out the open door. "I hope you know that," I call over my shoulder.

I've had locker number 0 for as long as I can remember. When I started playing varsity football in eighth grade, the seniors gave it to me as a joke because I was a shrimp. "Smallest guy, smallest locker," They'd laugh. At Wayside High, your locker number is your jersey number, so I was stuck with zero. I hated the number the first year, tried as hard as I could to get rid of it. But even more than the number itself, I hated how the older kids teased me for it. All I wanted to do was beat the crap out of one of them. And one day I did.

We'd just beat our rival school 29-14, and the team was riled up. As the youngest, I had to carry all the balls and equipment back to the locker room. The upperclassmen would usually chase after you and try to knock you over, just to make the job all the more miserable. That day was no different. Ross Martin was the team's best linebacker, probably clocking in at about 250 pounds. He was really a nice kid, nicer to me than a lot of the other guys. "HEY BIG Z!" he'd boomed as he charged at me from behind. "Big Zero" was the fond nickname that the team referred to me as. God I hated nicknames. Still do really. And hearing that name put me right over the edge that day. I felt white hot rage seer through me. I was "seeing red" as they say. It felt like my body was on fire. Turning just in time to see Ross brace himself to crash into me, I brought my fist back. Then with everything I had, smashed it into Ross Martin's face. I knocked him out cold. Only a couple guys saw it, and even from far away, I could see the surprise on their faces. Or was it nervousness? They rushed Ross off to the school nurse and later I found out that I broke his jaw in several places. I should've felt terrible. I should've went with him to the nurse and apologized again and again like any other person. But I didn't, and the worst part, the part that makes me sick, is that hitting Ross made me feel good. Better than I had felt in a while. It felt good to get mad.

The next day the I was pulled out of science class because the principal wanted to see me. We had been examining water samples under a microscope. I found the experiment boring, and I was happy for an excuse to leave class. I didn't even stop to question why the principal would want to see me. As his assistant led me down the hall, the answer hit me like a punch to the gut. Ross. I had completely forgotten. How could I have forgotten?! If I got kicked out of another school, my parents would kill me. I opened the door to the principal's office slowly, as if it might explode if I weren't careful.

"Have a seat Mr. Smit." Principal Stevenson did not smile, and his creased

forehead and pursed lips made it no secret that whatever he was going to say today was to be taken seriously. Great. "Do you know what I need to talk to you about Riley?" He popped an almond into his mouth. To this day I have never seen Principal Stevenson without a bag of almonds on hand.