Don't Belong

Beau

Sweat drips from my forehead as I roll my shoulders back, stretching after my twentieth lap of the field. I take a drink from my water bottle and look over at Coach Bosse and assistance coach Ayers. They talk back and forth, looking at their clipboards. As I shake my head while squirting water over my head, water pours from my mullet. I love how it looks, but if I make the lacrosse team, I'm going to need to rethink my haircut for something cooler.

About then is when Coach Bosse blows his whistle, and all of us are hoping to get those few precious open spots on the team. Around forty sweaty muscular freshmen and one extremely hot preteen, if I say so myself, run up to him, waiting for the explanation of the next section of the tryouts.

"Hey guys, you all look great out there. We're getting some good information on your skills, and I hope you are learning the game and teamwork. Next, we're going to split into four teams of ten. I'm going to take twenty, and so is Coach Ayers. So, I want you to count off, and the odd numbers are to follow Coach Ayers over to the football field; even number stay here with me."

We count off, and when we get to me, I become number twelve, and while the others count off, my eyes wonder around the stand till they fall on mom and AJ, who waves to me with excitement. I wave back to him, and one of the teenagers bumps into me, causing me to bump into the big teen in front of me.

"Watch it, you little shit!" He says it to me with a slick smirk.

"Sorry," I apologize and hold up my hands to let him know he's got no beef with me.

I'm almost as tall as he is, but that doesn't stop him from acting so much taller. The guy that pushed me first decides to chime in and say, "You know there's no chance you get on this team, right?"

The boys began to separate into odds, and even as I took a lacrosse stick from the box, spinning it in my hand, I said, "..well, I guess we'll see, won't we?"

"Can everyone hear me?" Coach Bosse shouts over everyone talking and waits for us to stop, then continues, "You're going to count off again, and odds get on my right and evens on my left." We all begin to count and move back and forth to get on the correct side. Once he sees us all stop moving, he counts and makes sure they're even teams, and then says, "Odds, take the right goal and even take the left one. This is what we call a `Passing Game.' When you receive the ball, you stop moving and pass it to the next person. Once you throw it, you can move again. Cover your man, get open, and make good passes. No one is wearing pads or helmets. So no checking or stick-slapping. If I see anyone hitting anyone with your stick, you're sitting on the bench, and that's less time to impress me, so just follow my rules. Passing! This is all about passing and catching the ball. Concentrate! Now go!"

We all run to our sides of the field, and I get ready for the whistle. The coach walks to the center of the field and looks us over. He nods, satisfied with what he sees, and begins to move us around to different positions. He moves me across the field to the forward position. Unfortunately for me, the boy who pushed me is the one guarding me.

"Hey, mullet. It looks like we will see."

AJ

18 Days Left

The bleachers are pretty scarce, with only like ten parents watching their sons try out for lacrosse. The teams split up and took the field and mom's cellphone rings. Beau is doing amazing, and I can't wait to see him play for the JV team. "Hello," mom says, answering the cell.

"Who is it?" I ask with little boy curiosity.

Ignoring me, she continues, "Yes, AJ is my son."

That takes my attention from the tryouts, and I turn my body to her and ask again, "Who is it?"

She listens to the person on the other end of the phone, and I see her eye brows go up. "I'm sorry he didn't get back with you today at school. My husband and I haven't had a chance to discuss it and make a decision."

Yikes! That can only be Mr. Carter. I was hoping he'd just forget about me and ask someone else. "Mom, I have to tell you something..." I blurt out in a whisper so Mr. Carter can't hear me. She just held up a finger, warning me not to say another word. The power of a mother's finger is undeniable.

"Don't worry, Mr. Carter; I'm sure AJ will be in to see you first thing tomorrow morning before school starts."

She hangs up the cell and crossly stares at me. I squirm in my chair and wait for the hammer to drop. "I'm waiting," is all she says.

"Well, Beau was so excited when we got on the bus. I didn't want to bring him down, so I didn't tell him how fu... My day was unpleasant, so I just planned on telling you when I got home, but his excitement spilled over to everyone when we got home, and I didn't want to ruin it, so I just thought I could tell you the next day, but I had such a bad day that I didn't want to talk to anyone, so I figured I'd tell you later, and then yesterday I got slammed with calculus homework..."

"Let me stop you right there, because I'm sure this is going to take the better part of an hour. Tell me why you're not jumping at the chance to play this concert," she says, interrupting me.

I shrug and softly say, "I just don't want'ah."

"Excuse me? AJ, speak up," mom says as she scans the field of soon-to-be lacrosse players.

"I don't want to spend time practicing for a concert. With chores, the rodeo, and studying for school, I just don't have time."

She looks down at me as she thinks over my little speech, then says, "AJ, that's BS, and you know it. I've only seen you more bored when you were put in your proper grade back in Cut Bank. Don't think I didn't find those college-level textbooks in your closet with a shopping bag full of college pamphlets."

Ouch! I was hoping she wouldn't find those. "Six songs in two months! Come on, mom," I whine.

"AJ, can you do it?"

Beau runs back and forth, trying to get open, spinning and juking the older teenager that's trying to cover him. The teenager looks like he's about to pass out trying to keep up with my boyfriend; unfortunately, no one will pass it to him. Dipping and moving, the older boy eventually falls down, leaving Beau totally open.

Suddenly, the coach blows the whistle, and everyone freezes in place. He works his way through the team, pointing and talking so the whole team can hear him. Up here, though, it all sounds like mummers to me.

"AJ, can you do it?"

Feeling backed into a corner, I huff and mumble, "...probably."

"AJ..."

"Yes ma'am. I can."

Beau

"Where is the play here?" The coach yells as he walks among us. I look around at where the other guys are standing and where I am from the perspective of the goalie. No one is saying anything and is looking around just like I am. No one is saying anything, so I raise my hand.

Some laughter breaks out throughout the team as Coach Bosse spins around to see what's so funny. He sees me with my hand up and gives me a smile and a nod that tells me there is something behind it.

"Beau is correct; he is the play. He's open and has been open for ten minutes. Mills has been running like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to cover him, but it looks like he's about to pass out. Not one of you has passed him the ball. Can someone tell me why?"

Silence falls over the field as the coach waits for someone to answer him. Then, when Coach was about to say something, a voice across the field said, "Because he's like ten or something," and half the team began laughing.

"Ten or something," Coach Bosse repeats. "So, what you're saying is, he's not good; Mills just sucks as a right guard. Mills change positions with Dixon." They change, and Dixon gets right in my shit and says, "Go home, little boy. This game is for men."

I spin and juke to the left, sending Dixon tripping over his own legs. When I break free of him, I hold up my stick and charge the goalie. The ball is right in front of me, and I reach out with my stick, catch it, slide to a stop, and toss it to the goalie. He catches it and smiles at me, saying, "Good move, kid."

The whistle blows, and Coach yells, "That's it. We're done here. Go hit the showers. I will send out the team letters tomorrow at school. You all will either make the freshman team or JV. See you Saturday afternoon! Colter! See me before you head to the showers."

Everyone tosses their sticks in the barrel next to the bench before heading to the showers. I head to the coach in the middle of the field and say, "Yes, coach."

"Colter, you did a great job today. Your quickness might be unmatched on this team, but you have to keep your eyes moving. Half of the time, you were so determined to get open, you didn't know where the ball was."

"Sorry coach."

"That's what practice is for, Colter. Look, I'm going to put you on my JV team, but if you stay, it's up to you. Your grades have to stay where they are, and you have to listen to me. There are forty kids, much older than you, who want your spot on the team. Hold on to it."

"Yes sir."

"Good, go on then. See you Saturday at one," he says, patting my shoulder before going back to his clipboard.

I did it! I made it on the JV team!

I wave to AJ, who has made his way down to the railing. I use sign language to tell him that I made the team, and he signs back with congratulations. Mom walks up behind him, and AJ tells her something. She waves to me and signs, `Great job, Beau.' I smile and wave to her before I head down the tunnel to the locker room.

By the time I got to the locker room, everyone was mostly naked. I head over to my gym bag, get my shower bag out, and take off my clothes, putting them in the bag. I was so psyched; I was naked and in the shower before it even occurred to me to look at anyone's cock. I don't think I would have even thought about it if not for Dixon and Mills.

The slap on my wet ass was so loud that I heard it before I felt the sting. My knees buckled, and I cried out in agony with a high-pitched yip that cracked my voice. A forceful push sends me into the corner, causing me to land on my knees on the wet tile. "Did you look at my cock, you little faggot?" Mills shouts as five of his naked friends stand around me, laughing.

"You think it's funny tripping me out on the field? Faggots get their ass spanked," Dixon says harshly. He's very pissed.

Dixon seizes my arm and pulls me to my feet, allowing Mills to slap my ass again. This time I scream out, and his little group of five friends grows to ten. Someone else seizes my other arm and exposes my ass to Mills, causing me to wriggle and attempt to shield it. "You have to learn who your betters are!" The next two slaps were so painful that I couldn't even breathe in enough to scream for the next one. I was kicking my legs and doing whatever I could when Mills was pulled from the group, and all I heard was a thud. 

The group of losers break up, with each person running in different directions in the big shower. Through the confusion, I see the goalie emerge and drop Dixon with a single punch. I'm dropped to my knees as I fight for air through the pain in my ass. The asshole collapses to the ground adjacent to me. The goalkeeper helps me stand by grabbing my arm.

"On your feet, Colter," the goalie says. He's a heavier-set guy with dark skin samoan, a body of hair, and he looks like he's either been held back a few grades or he started puberty at like ten. His dick isn't very long; I have him beat by almost two inches, I think, but it's damn near three times as thick. "We weren't introduced; my name is Tane Leota. Are you okay, uso?"

The past two minutes flash through my head and replace shock and pain with rage. The room is pretty much empty except for the two of us: Dixon laying next to me unconscious and a muscled teenager holding a kneeling and bleeding Mills by the hair. I push past Tane, heading for Mills. I kick him in the junk, making him scream a wheezing groan. Mills begins to collapse when the other teenager releases his hair, and I left hand jab him in the nose then deliver a forceful right hand cross that causes him to tumble to the wet floor.

Huffing I look at the teenager next to me, and he holds up his hands, saying, "I'm on your side. Tell him Tane."

"That's Ben Lee," Tane says, tossing me my shower bag. "We better get you out of here."

AJ

I wait by the gate to the field with my mom, wondering if there is anything I could say to get out of doing this concert. When she says, "You like playing the piano; you play it all the time at home; why don't you want to play this concert?"

It's uncanny how she can do that. It's like she can read my mind. But if she can read my mind, how come she doesn't know why? "Because no one likes me there. I'm either invisible or kids go out of their way to be mean to me. Why would I want to help them out?"

She's quiet and leans back against the fence. I can feel the loneliness begin to swell in my chest, and a tear trails down my cheek. I turn away from her so she can't see me cry. "Honey, I didn't know you were having a hard time at school. Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's nothing... Forget I said anything about it," I softly say, trying not to show the hard time I'm having keeping my feelings to myself. I look up and see a big teenager come out of the locker room with Beau right behind him. Beau seems like he's in a big hurry to leave. I wipe my tears, and when he gets to the fence, he practically leaps into my arms. I hug him, and mom holds the gate for the teenager.

"Thanks, ma'am," he says, and then pats Beau on the shoulder, saying, "You call me if you need help." Beau thanks him, and he heads to the parking lot, digging out his keys out of his pocket.

Mom gets us to the car, and Beau sits in the backseat with me. I slide in, and Beau goes to sit down, but hisses once his bottom touches the seat. I recognize his body language and whisper, What happened? He shakes his head and signs, `It's nothing,' and I see his knuckles. I grab his hand, and he winces.

He's been fighting again. I look up to mom, and she isn't paying us any attention. I sign, `Why?'

He looks ashamed and signs back, `Some kids were mad I was at tryouts and took it out on me in the showers.'

`They spanked you!'

`Yeah, but it was nothing, really. Zeke spanks harder. I'm okay, AJ.'

Then he laid his head on my lap and closed his eyes.

The Next Morning

17 Days Left

HIIIISSSSSSS goes to the bus door as it closes behind me while I search for an empty seat. In the middle of the bus, I see Kye wave his hand for me to sit with him. He doesn't want to be my friend; he only wants me to play that stupid concert. It's bad enough; I have to tell Mr. Carter I'll do it. I don't want to talk about it now, so I sit in an empty seat near the front.

We pick up two more kids, and suddenly I feel the bus lurch and hear Mr. Howe shout, "Sit down Kye Roads," and I sit up as much as I can to look over the seat behind me to see what is going on.

Kye is heading towards my seat while the bus is moving. I barely have enough time to move my bag from the free space so he can sit down. "Thanks," he says, flopping down in my seat. "Morning AJ."

"Morning," I mumble softly.

"Not a morning person, huh? Me neither, if I'm being honest."

I turn my body away from him as much as I can and stare out the window. He talks with the girl in the seat across from us, and I dread the reason he's sitting here with me. Given that I am unpopular, why would he put himself at risk of ridicule by sitting with me?

The bus turns onto the highway, and he sits back in our seat and looks out the window. After a little bit, he says, "So what have you got planned this weekend?" I wait and listen to see if someone answers him, and he taps me on the shoulder, repeating himself, "Are you doing anything this weekend?"

I turn to kind of half look at him, asking, "Me?"

"Sure," he says, looking pretty happy.

I answer him nervously, "Well, I guess I'll spend most of the morning practicing for your dumb concert, and then I have to do rodeo drills."

"Oh, that's right. It's next weekend, isn't it?"

He didn't even say anything about the concert. I nod my head and say, "Yeah, I'm hoping I'm ready."

"I'm sure you will be. I've seen you ride. It's like you and your horse are one person, you know?"

I sit up and think over his words and face him, admitting, "It's exactly like that. Stepper is great. When I'm on his saddle, I feel like I can do anything."

"You sure look like you can. That's got to be the fastest horse I've ever seen."

We talk about the rodeo for the last ten minutes of our bus ride, and when we get to the school, he waits till the last person gets off to stand and exit, just like me. Once we get off the bus, we walk up to the front steps, and I stop. There's eleven steps and the words `Culmen Est Quod Nos Impellit, Sed Ascenditur Ipsum Quod Refert,' carved in them.

"It's Latin," Kye says, watching me read the words.

"I know. Can you read Latin?"

"No, they don't teach Latin at this school."

"It says: `Our climb to the summit is what drives us, but the climb is what matters.' Loosely translated, of course," I say as I quickly count the stairs in my head to make sure there are still eleven.

"You can speak Latin? That is so cool," Kye says, walking along with me.

We enter the school, and I tell him, "It is? I think you're the only person who thinks so."

We head inside, and he stops to get into his locker. I tell him I'll see him later, and he quickly says, "Lunch!" Stopping me in my tracks. "Sit with us at lunch. I mean, if you want."

Turning around, I wait for him to push me, laugh in my face, or say awful things to send me off with tears in my eyes, but that doesn't happen. He fishes his books out of his locker and pats me in the back as he walks past me to head to his homeroom. This is either an elaborate prank or I just made a friend. I'll have to think about this.

When I get to my homeroom, Haydon is outside. "Morning, AJ," he says and offers me a fist bump. I bump his fist, and he hikes his backpack strap back up on his shoulder. "If you need anything here at the summit, just ask me, okay?"

"Why?"

"Why? Can't I be nice?" He asks as we enter the room.

I put my backpack on my desktop and look around to see if anyone is going to push it off, and when I think it's safe, I sit down. "In my experience, no one in this school wants me here, including the teachers. Those that are being nice to me want me to do something for them."

He looks around the room, leans down, and softly whispers, "We're good, AJ. I'd like us to be friends."

His eye is very close to mine, so much so that he can tell me that without anyone else hearing it. The reasoning for his closeness doesn't escape me, and I sigh and am about to call him out on it when the dumbass two chairs behind me says in his outside voice, "What'cha doing, Haydon? You're gone'a kiss him!" Everyone begins laughing, and Haydon stands up and looks at me apologetically.

"Maybe it's best for you if we're not friends," I sorrowfully say, then lay my head down on my backpack so no one can see my tears. The teasing and jokes about me and Haydon kissing and him fucking me in the utility closet went on for about five minutes. Haydon wisely cracked back, but the verbal assault was more than even he could fight off, and eventually I lost his voice in the crowd of laughter at my expense. I refuse to sit here and have to listen to this circus, so I turn off my hearing aid and close my eyes.

I woke up, and I realize I must have fallen asleep. Mrs. Nelson is next to me, and her mouth is moving. I should be able to hear her, but all I'm getting is a mummer. Oh, that's right, I turned down my hearing aid. My finger goes to my ear, and my heart stops. I frantically look around my desk and my bag, but my hearing aid is nowhere to be found! Jumping up, I move the desk, practically tossing it, and drop to my knees, looking everywhere for it. I can hear her murmuring but can't make out anything, and soon she grabs my shoulder, and my tearful eyes meet hers. She's upset, and behind her, a bunch of freshmen are filing into her room.

I pull myself from her grip and head over to the chalkboard, where I write, `Someone stole my hearing aid! I can't hear you!'

Her face softens, and she heads to the chalkboard, but I don't want to read what she has to say. I'm sobbing and can't get myself to stop. It has to be the kid that sits behind me. He must have taken it out while I was asleep. Why did I let myself sleep? Why did I turn it down? What am I going to do? Mom is going to be so disappointed in me. I hate this school! I dash to the boys' restroom and straight to an unoccupied stall. I slam the door shut with all my strength, but it bounces open, requiring me to catch it and secure it. I sit down, pull my legs up, and then cry into my knees. The silent world is deafening to me, and my heart sinks at the thought of having to go through school without being able to hear anything.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but I do know the only thing I can figure out to do is run to my locker and get my phone to text mom, but that's like asking to be spanked. Let's just say this isn't the first hearing aid I've lost. Hell, it's not even the second, third, or fourth. I could keep going, but you get the picture. I can't even tell you how many of them Stepper has stepped on. The thought of it makes me smile, and a folded piece of paper slides under the door. I wipe my tears from my cheeks and pick it up. It reads, `AJ, it's Mr. Carter. Please come out. We can figure this out.'

I dig in my backpack for a pencil and write as my tears land on the paper. `No one wants me here. Just call my mom, and I'll go home.' I fold the paper in half and slide it back under the door.

Soon, the folded paper will be back on my side of the door. I look at it and wonder if I should just slide it back to him. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I pick it up and open it slowly. `AJ, we are working on finding your hearing aid. Please come out; let me help you.' His request appears sincere--well, as sincere as it can be conveyed on paper. I unlock the door and open it a little to look out. Mr. Carter is there alone, kneeling and holding my backpack. I look to make sure he really is alone, and something takes over my actions, and I hurry into his arms. Tears stream down my cheeks, and he rubs my back. I imagine him saying things like, `Don't worry, AJ,' and `You're okay, you're going to be fine.'

While I sob, my breathing is erratic, but he simply holds me and allows me to release everything. He must be very uncomfortable, and once I realize that, I push myself away from him. I sniffle, and he wipes the tears from my eyes. He points to his eyes to get me to look at him and then signs, `AJ, you're not as hated as you think. I know I would like to be your friend.'

He knows sign language!

`Mr. Carter, someone stole my hearing aid!' I frantically signed for him.

He holds a hand to my chest to calm me down, then signs, 'Yes, we know, and the teachers are going through all the students in your homeroom to find out who took it and where it went. I tell you what, let's go to the music room.'

I think over his offer and look around the bathroom, reminding myself of my other option of sitting on the toilet. I nod to him, and he leads the way to his classroom. The hallways are empty, and that's good because I'm not sure if I can take anymore angry looks directed my way. Mr. Carter taps my shoulder and signs, `What's wrong?'

`I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere.'

I can see him take a deep breath, and he opens the door to his class. I head in, and the room is full of students. I stop in my tracks and backpedal, running into Mr. Carter. He walks around me and addresses the class. Should I run? I should have known he'd have a class; what was I thinking?

He turns to me and signs, `Hey, calm down. You're going to be okay. You're among friends here.' I look around the room, and there are some blank looks, but most of them either smile at me or give me a little wave. My fingers slide up and down the backpack straps, counting the beads sewn into them. I find an empty chair, and before I sit down, Kye and Brek stand up, waving to me. I smile and wave back.

Beau

One Hour After AJ Got on the Bus

Kicking gravel, I work my way to the end of the driveway to wait for the bus. As I approach the end, I notice that the gravel rocks form organized squares of various sizes. 10 rocksx10 rocks, 20 rocksx20 rocks, and 50 rocksx50 rocks-size squares fit together in a puzzle-like design across the driveway. Oh no, he's counting again. I take my phone out and take a few pictures, sending them to AJ, asking, `What's wrong?'

I wait until I get off the bus and figuring I got no answer from AJ, I send the pictures to mom texting: `Mom, I think there's something wrong with AJ.'