Evergreen

Chapter 12

Comparison is the thief of joy – Theodore Roosevelt

*

It was a fabulous Thursday. The sun was bright, although not bringing warmth to match, which was fine with Everett, as he couldn't bear exercise in the heat. The wind blew into his well-washed face as he walked home from school, refreshing and invigorating like sucking on a mint. His warm coat gave him gladness, even if it didn't give off the coolest vibes. This grey coat had served him well for over three years, and he hoped it would serve him for years to come. Plus, coats cost money that his family didn't have.

Everett pondered on the times when he'd dared to make a New Year's Resolution. Last year, he'd vowed to eschew eating biscuits - a promise broken within hours. This year, avoiding sweets had lasted him a little longer: until the next day. His attempts at self-improvement weren't quite successful so far. Now he had a motivation to do it, however, he couldn't help but wonder if things would be different.

"£16.70, please," said the lady at the desk as Everett rummaged in his bag for money. As always, it seemed to be the last thing he laid eyes upon. To be fair, it was hard to see anything under a bundle of tissues, a spilt pack of playing cards, earphones and whatever else was in there.

Wait. Hang on a minute. Did she say £16.70? What a rip-off. He'd better get ripped for that astronomical price.

"Do you... do you happen to know where the gym is?" asked Everett, hyper-conscious of the fit blokes in the queue listening to every word.

The lady stared at him like he was an idiot. "It's on the left."

It was then that he saw the clearly marked arrows leading the way to the gym. Trust Everett to not notice the most obvious things! Going bright red (even though he hadn't exercised yet), he rushed off toward the gym.

As he walked in, the pungent smell of sweat hit him like a wave. It was almost sick-inducing. Luckily, Everett had experience with sweaty rooms (as he did PE thrice a week with teenagers), so no sick made an appearance. The whirring of machines spoke of busyness and increasing levels of resilience; the heavy breathing of gym-goers gave the feeling of focus. These people were hard-working. Fit. Driven. Next to them, Ev felt as inadequate as a comedian in a chemistry class.

Nevertheless, he'd spent his £16.70, and he was going to make the most of his hour here. What should he try first? The rowing machine? The treadmill? It was the X-trainer that caught his eye. Footholds fixed in place, it would be a great introduction to cardio.

At first, he kept it at a pleasant jogging pace. Putting his earphones in to listen to his newly created sporty Spotify playlist, he felt at home. With the music in his ears, he became unaware of the people around him, of the pressure to get better until you broke. It was just him. Because all that mattered was that he was doing his best.

After twenty minutes, he moved on to the rowing machine. That would build up his biceps. By now, his heart was pumping quite rapidly, sweat pouring down his face. Somehow, he found the hard work rewarding, albeit a little repetitive. He was beginning to see why people came to the gym.

Then his phone died.

No longer wrapped up in the cocoon of music, Everett became more and more conscious of the lads surrounding him. Lads who could bench-press 300 pounds without breaking a sweat; lads who could use the fastest setting on the treadmill for a solid hour. Leaving the rowing machine to go on the treadmill, he found himself next to one of the latter. So, Ev being competitive, he put his treadmill up to the fastest speed.

In hindsight, that was a mistake.

He spent the following fifteen minutes struggling to keep up, sweating profusely and having aching muscles. When his competitor increased his incline, Everett conceded that his efforts were futile and sat down for a few minutes, trying to ignore the judgmental stares and whispers.

But he couldn't ignore one voice.

"Oi, Everett, what're you doing here?"

He turned his head to lay eyes on Freddy. At least at school, he had teachers and friends to offer moral support. Here, everyone else was far too absorbed in their own fitness to care about a couple of 15-year-olds winding each other up. He was on his own.

"Oh... I, er, decided to go to the gym," he replied coolly, stating the obvious.

"Good for you. Those muscles are pretty much non-existent at the moment," said Freddy, hopping onto a treadmill. Despite his traumatic experience with the treadmill dude, Everett got on the adjacent treadmill and went at the same speed as Freddy. Wanting to beat him was ingrained in his DNA.

"A bit competitive, eh, Everett?" said Freddy, not out of breath at all much to Ev's disappointment, "Give up already. I'm far fitter than you are."

Everett wanted to say that he was far better at football than Freddy, but Mum had taught him not to talk back to annoying people. That tactic had served him well so far.

"I'm still quite fit," said Everett, catching his breath as he spoke.

"Quite fit?" laughed Freddy (Ev wished he hadn't spoken), "you're the least fit person in the gym!"

"Yeah, but people in the gym are the fittest people of the population anyway."

"You're right. They're the best, so you don't belong here."

Panting, Everett focused on doing his exercise, which was getting very difficult. A stitch had formed, making every step harder, but he would never give Freddy the satisfaction of seeing him give up. It was resilience that had helped him to stand up to Freddy when he insulted other pupils. It was resilience that had made him enter the English classroom every day. Despite everything, Ev held onto hope that one day, Freddy would find a better way to fix his problems than taking out his emotions on others.

Everett was glad when the hour was up. Now he could return to the soft cosiness of his bed and watch the Netflix shows that Marty and Jade had recommended to him.

*

"You did what?" said Marty, on the brink of mirth.

"I went to the gym. No big deal," said Everett, shrugging.

"Oh, wow. No offence, bro, but you're not really cut out to be a gym-goer."

"I know that now," muttered Everett, "what's worse, Freddy showed up."

Jade's eyes widened significantly. She'd seen the conflict between the boys all too often. "You see enough of him in school; stay away from him whenever you can."

"Take a chill pill, Jade. I'm not going back to the gym."

"When I went to the gym," said Marty, telling his anecdote for the hundredth time, "the atmosphere was so serious that I knew I wouldn't fit in. Also, the air was so sweaty that I..."

"Passed out, yeah, we know," said Everett, with the indifferent air of someone who'd heard the same thing too many times.

"Oh well, there are lots of other ways to exercise," said Hassan brightly, "like bike rides, running and football."

"Yeah, I'll probably stick to football," said Everett. Although going for a run now and then sounded like a reasonable proposition. At least then there would be no crippling comparison. And he could listen to music...

"Why do you want to get fit anyway?" asked Hassan.

"Oh, you know, to be a healthier person, more resilient, etc." It was a good thing that there were so many reasons to exercise that didn't involve Amelia. That would sound pathetic.

Then again, maybe his words wouldn't betray him after all. Love had a mysterious way of showing itself that led to unmistakable changes. Some people became tidier, some became vainer. Some smiled more often, some were saddened more easily. It was a consuming, paradoxical thing that gave joy and sadness, anger and calm, restlessness and contentedness. It drove him mad but made him glad.

His heart was set on Amelia. The kind, funny girl who liked planes and McFly and more. The beautiful, brown-haired girl who made him feel appreciated and giddy. The girl he thought about every day, the girl he cared about instinctively. And no advice from his parents, or anyone for that matter, was going to stop him from liking her.