ROOM 211

PART THIRTY

35.

At fifteen, he kept to himself. He had been playing on the school football team for some time and even at that, he still done his own thing. It was rare to join in on any banter or anything of the sorts even to the point if he were to be invited anywhere, invites most likely coming from so called teammates after games or training, he would turn them down.

There was nothing special or outstanding about his ability to play and he relatively remained quiet during games or training sessions, never calling for the ball and not being reactive to decisions and other certain moments which may call for a reaction. He was basically making up the numbers while also having something to actively do, so it was always good to have the game and the training ... he enjoyed it.

There were three guys on the football team in particular who seemed eager to get him to come out to whatever after game or after training get together occurring, whenever they were upcoming. It didn't matter whether these events were previously set up or were to happen spontaneously, each time they made an inquiry, he flat out turned them down and when an invisible member of the team, someone who always turned up to every training session and every game and never so much offer a word on anything to anyone, would be asked as to why he constantly turned down offers put to him, he just simply replied that it wasn't his scene and that he had no interest in making it his scene.

After one particular game, a biggie in terms of sports history relating to the school he attends, a biggie which saw the school team make a cup final for the first time in its history, the invitation was once again put to him and once again was turned down. This time an issue was taken with the declining reply. The bigger member of the trio took the most offence deciding his patience was thinner than it could be.

'What's wrong with you, punk?' the bigger fellow asked pushing the upper torso of the fellow he confronted with two fingers of his own right hand. 'Are you too good for us? Is that it?'

A step or two backward is taken with the feeling that the questions should not be dignified with a response. The pushing continues as did the questioning.

'What is it? You mute or something?'

'Leave it out ...' one of the other members of the trio would speak, feeling uncomfortable with what was occurring. Surely things were going far enough.

'No, I won't leave it out. He is gonna get it if he thinks he is better than us ...'

'C'mon ... he's not worth the hassle' the other member of the trio speaks.

The bigger fellow of the trio turns to his friends, unhappy with how they are reacting. He feels they should be backing him up and not backing him down. In this moment, he who had been picked on sees and seizes his opportunity to turn to run off.

'That's right freak' bigger fellow speaks seeing what has happened. 'You better run for you sure as hell won't be getting another offer like what we put to you ... you hear me?' his voice loudening as the recipient of the message gets further and further away.

Football had only ever been something he got into because of his want for activity. He didn't want to gain any kind of social stature or even gain any friends. It was the activity he desired. Being quite athletic, he ran a lot so running on this day came with ease and with the game on this day having come early evening, such a time had come where it had well and truly become dark by such time his current run began. He stuck to a darkened route home so if the others had decided to follow him, then he may not so easily be found.

There had been no intention to follow but someone had followed, and he who thought he had gotten away, hadn't seen it coming. A knock over the head from behind is what came and if he had not been knocked unconscious then he might have heard the words shouted at him.