Gage Cilleti has just begun his junior year of high school, and is becoming more and more involved in his school's activities, considering he'd been playing baseball since he was just seven-years-old.
Elijah McCay has just dropped out of school, du...
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I can't stop smiling. Only hours ago, Coach Witherspoon announced that I'd be the teams captain, until I graduate in two years. Unless I seriously mess up, during that short duration. Rick had seemed even more excited than I was, claiming that he'd pass over rules for me to make.
I had tried to explain to him that that wasn't my job. My job was to keep everyone on top of their roles and positions, and besides—being captain would look absolutely beautiful on my applications to nearby colleges.
Whenever I thought about it—I still had no idea what I wanted for my future. I knew I loved being out on the field, playing what I love most—baseball. But would that passion last forever?
But what I was sure of, was that I was just good enough, to get a scholarship out of it, and get myself into a good school, where I could figure it all out.
Although, with Rick—that was a completely different story. He always acted as though college would turn out to be the worst thing in the entire world. But I knew he held high expectations for himself, so in return, I did, too.
There I was, head leaning on the window of Rick's passenger seat, eyes droopy and chest heavy. Another party—well, the first party of the school year, actually. Without even knowing the host, after practice, Rick and I had shared another plate of cheese fries at the nearest diner, then he had broken the news.
News that he had heard that a senior, would be having a party, and that now as upper class-man, we were invited. I groaned, and sunk further into the passenger seat.
"Rick, lets just go to my place and watch a movie or something. I really don't feel like spending the rest of tonight being completely ignored by both you, and everyone else." Rick rolled his eyes, turning the truck into a quiet, and reserved street.
"You won't be," he insisted, "I'll be there, Terrance will there—everyone else will be there. I promise, you'll have a blast." His words seemed logical, but I knew that in only two hours time, I'd be slithered against a plain wall, my cellphone in hand, as I went over old messages, just so bystanders would think I was busy texting.
I left the conversation at that, as Rick's truck pulled into a long, slanted driveway, the homes garage propped open, as I recognized tons of students I'd passed in Wayland's hallway only hours ago. Rick whistled out of the drivers side window, me instantly regretting my decision to come along.
Exiting swiftly, Rick punched a small hit into my shoulder, leaning in close to whisper, "just relax, and have fun. This is a celebration, you're finally captain—embrace it."
"It isn't that, Rick—"
Just as I was getting out the last bit of my sentence, someone who I had never recognized before, ran over to Rick's side, an arm rounding over his shoulders. I try and keep up, but with them being caught up in conversation, and the guy obviously trying to direct Rick somewhere specific—I lose them in the garages crowd.
