Boys Will Be Boys (v.2)

chapter two - i don't need help

chapter two — i don't need help

MY LEGS FELT LIKE THEY WERE ON FIRE. I had my hands on my head, chest heaving as I struggled to regulate my breathing. The entire basketball team was lined up at half court, eyes all trained on Lukas as he nervously approached the free-throw line. So far we'd gone through the entire roster, save Lukas and I, trying to make in five consecutive free-throws. The closest we'd gotten was Roger with three. DJ and Marco had both made two, still an admirable feat, especially considering how nobody could feel their arms anymore after Coach's conditioning exercises.

Lukas steadied his feet on the line, bending his knees low as Coach passed the ball to him. It was a sick practice method the Coach liked using. It was quite literally near the end of the school year, my sophomore year, and he was already starting intermittent off-season practices. We only met twice a month until the actual season started, so he tried to cram two weeks worth of practice into each one, hence this drill. We would run suicides until one person could successfully make all five free throws.

He saved me for last just to torture the team. I was the only one who could manage five, very rarely six just for fun. If none of us could make it, he made us run an extra suicide* before ending practice. Normally, I wouldn't care about the extra running, but we had a party to go to today. It would be nice if practice ended early. So I could go home and hopefully take a decent shower.

"Three"

Our voices rang out in the gym, half of them breathy with overexertion. Some of the other sophomores had joined us for Varsity practice, none of them really ready for it. The actual Varsity team was just seniors (none of whom were here since their last season ended), juniors like Lukas, DJ, Marco and Roger, and one sophomore: me. I would be a Junior next season though, and I dread to think of the kids in my grade who would somehow qualify for Varsity. I didn't trust anyone to be on the court with me, save my friends.

"Four"

My eyebrows quirked when the ball went into the net with a clean swish. Lukas wasn't the strongest shooter, but apparently, he'd been practicing outside of school during our break.

"Come on, Lukas, you got this"

I let my arms fall to my side, eyes trained on him. He didn't acknowledge me, but I knew he heard me. I held my breath as he shot.

The ball hit the rim, circling it before tilting towards the inside— and then falling out.

We all groaned in chorus, Lukas looking down dejectedly.

"One more!" Coach bellowed and we all took off, eager to finish the suicide lap.

I stretched out my neck when I finished, starting to walk up to the free-throw line.

"That won't be necessary, Mogan" Coach stopped me at the three-point line and I looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"You're all dismissed. Team on three. One, two, three. Team!"

Coach rushed through his post-practice speech, talking to the back of our practice jerseys as we filed into the locker room with an unenthusiastic 'Team!'

"Good work today, Lukas" Coach squeezed Lukas' shoulder as I impatiently waited for him, water bottle in hand. I huffed as Lukas flushed under the praise, smiling and nodding at Coach.

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"What?"

I picked up the hem of my jersey and mopped my face with it, starting to peel it off as we passed through the doorway of the locker room. Lukas' face was still red from Coach's praise and he sat down next to me on the bench, pulling his shoes off, determinedly not meeting my eyes. His cheeks were flushed, hair awkwardly quiffed from all the sweat and him running his hands through it. I was sure I looked worse though. Lukas was the only one I knew who could pull off the 'I'm fucking tired as hell'-look decently.