Bad Boys Don't Cry

The Kings love their Crowns

"Zach! My man! You made it!"
"Shut the fuck up, Jason."
"Dude, no shit. You're our new captain!"
Nonstop practices, endless sacrifices, faithful commitment....not to mention the insane precautions.
It all was paying off; the time was now for me to be the first sophomore, ever, to be the captain of the Varsity football team at Ridgewood High School.
Eighteen shots of 10 hour energy soared through me as I came to the realization of my Dad finding out.
"I got to tell chief! He's gonna actually shit his pants!" With that, I ran like the new found wind that was behind each step.
Speaking about shitting people's pants... I have time to make a pit stop.
I rerouted myself to head towards the smell of the musk and oder that usually hung around the locker room.
Knock knock
No answer. The gym teachers must have left after they posted that glorious list on the school's news board.
With feet of a ballet dancer, I crept into the locker room and rushed to my little locker.
The lockers were splattered with sunlight from the sky openings, which allowed for the pealing paint of the blue lockers to shine, even with their dull coats barely holding on.
I strutted through the lockers, with my new sense of pride, when a certain locker caught my eyes in a few rows down.
There was a locker open with its belongings fully spread across the floor and the wooden bench that sat between two facing walls of twinning lockers.
Hey is that.....no. Is it?
I hurried my pace; as did my heart.
I reached the scattered items that were carpeting the cold, tile floor and my eyes went black as my stomach fell.
The deodorant, extra pair of clothes, running shoes, and even small box of condoms (that I swore to goodness wasn't mine, yet they still conveniently stayed away from the garbage), were not on my mind; the small black backpack however was.
It's missing...what if someone-
"Looking for this, baby boy?"
Shit