The Lies We Told On Thursday Nights

5. Thursday: Backpack Tagging (Levi)

Sorry, I din'tupdate last week. I was out of town, so sorry. This chapter addresses the stereotypical struggle, boys especially, face. Emry's chapter will be coming morning tomorrow.

I did a bit of back story telling (instead of showing, sorry...) Let me know if it gets too confusing.

Thank you, guys.

(Also, I know I skipped straight to Thursday--I figured I needed to speed up the story a tiny bit-do you guys agree?) Please let me know!

Levi

Thursday-1:00 p.m

I sprinted down the hall, chasing Zeek who had decided stealing my backpack was a good idea.

I mean, everyone was laughing. I suppose it was funny, the team's class clown stole the captain's stuff.

Once in a while, they play these pranks because I know for a fact they don't like me.

There are hundreds of reasons why, but the most obvious one was my father founded and sponsored our school's football team and even spent hundreds of thousands on a shiny-state of the arc football field.

And because of my position and my fathers constant pressure for me to be the best--I've been, according to a boy I used to me best friends with "I was top dog."

And he was right, ever since Freshmen year I was head of sports, got all the girls, had all the money and I was still a good student. I was untouchable.

For years I've basked in the glory of popularity and wealth--endorsing the praises that came my way.

However, towards the end of last year, things changed.

I'm not going to talk about that now.

Anyways, I guess my team was tired of my three year reign--but I think it was I who was the most sick of the position.

As of recently, they've been doing a few things to knock down my game.

For example they've spread rumors about me, hoping our coach will hear them and kick me out. Of course, my coach was both my uncle and my dad's puppet.

Yet I feel like the puppet sometimes.

And of course, there are these pranks. Stealing my backpack, pretending I forgot something, and worst of all....they actually pretending to like me.

They probably don't think I deserve the position

However, I was laughing as Zeek leaped on top of the cafeteria table and began hopping over them like islands.

I followed suite, leaping with ease due to my fit condition.

The onlooking crowd was chanting, for Zeek mostly.

I don't know why I was laughing, because this wasn't really that funny.

But it was supposed to be.

This was supposed to be funny the same way as I was supposed to be happy.

I closed in on him as he neared the final table.

I reached, grabbing a fist full of my backpack. But soon I was pulled down to the ground, Zeek below me. It felt odd, I have never felt this much touch by anyone in months, due to my constant denying of any form of a hug.

The moment of unease quickly vanished into a subtle happiness as my elbow began to sting.

I could feel the cement pebbles piercing my skin and the blood slowly rolling out.

I took a moment to appreciate the pain.

But then time caught up as Zeek began shoving me away.

I could tell he was shocked by this, probably a bit surprised. He grimaced at his failed attempt to succumb my superiority. The crowd began chanting my name "Levi, Levi."

I hated hearing my name out loud- but this was still a distant emotion.

It had been a year since I had felt the adrenaline of their approval.

They liked this. They liked me tackling someone.

I didn't like this version of me, at the same time I didn't like any other version of me.

"You go, man!" Blake screamed, his voice coming somewhere to my left. Blake was arguably one of two team mates who treated me with some sort of distorted respect to me, he remained

I bit my lip, staring Zeek down. I stared at him intently praying that he caught the apologetic expression on my face. Even if I didn't say it, he needed to know I did not enjoy this. I did not like humiliating him because I've been humiliated before.

As much as I wanted to weep apologies, I figured it would be unbeneficial because it will seem as if I were at fault and probably denote the pride everyone else was feeling.

There are two facades I insist on maintaining from the hours 8 to 3 every day-- happiness and confidence. Neither of which I actually have.

And so, I swallowed the pleas of shame, and instead blurted at him.

"Give me my backpack," I seethed, trying to exaggerate my bodies pitiful scowl.

He scoffed, yet not angrily as I thought. He seemed, a tiny bit impressed.

By the look in his eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and slight smirk I could tell he was 40% embarrassed, 30%dissapointed, 25% angry, and 5% impressed.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes.

I rolled off him, laying flat on the cold cement.

Shutting my eyes once more, I tried to lay still. I tried to watch the colors behind my eyelids swirl into nooses as I plead god for the ground to swallow me up.

But it did not happen.

Instead, a guy jerked me, pulled me up, despite my resistance.

Once on my feet--they began slamming me with useless praise.

Thanks, please comment, vote and share!