TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2018

While the band members went to lacrosse practices after school, Trey headed back to the Meijer residence by himself. It wasn't a bad thing. He didn't mind being alone for a while. After being an only child of a mother who left him alone too often when he was far too young to be left alone, it was nice staying with a large family. However, sometimes it was nice to have time to be with himself.

Each day he walked home alone, he fantasized about living in East Harbor permanently. He didn't want to go back to LA, live in a run-down tenement, or worry about getting caught up in some sort of violence or trouble every time he stepped outside his door. But even in this paradise, not everything was perfect. The yellow two-story reminded him of his friend's problems and he knew he had to do something about it. But what could he do? He was only a kid. Besides, he really didn't know anything. Michael wouldn't tell him what was wrong, but Trey could tell it was something pretty bad. He considered talking to one of the other boys, but he knew what they would say. They'd tell him to talk to Dr. Meijer. That made Trey's blood run cold.

The adults in East Harbor seemed nicer than those he experienced in Hollywood, but he'd been tricked before. He'd been made a fool by his mother's friends, by social workers, and even by his favorite teacher, Mrs. Knox. She'd even told Trey he was her favorite student before she betrayed him. It hurt him deeply when he confided in her that his mother hadn't been home in days and she called the authorities. He swore he would never make that mistake again. His foster dad only confirmed Trey's stance that adults were his mortal enemy.

Ahead of him, he saw Dr. Meijer saying goodbye to a patient. Was Dr. Meijer any different? Michael trusts him. That's a plus. And it was true that Dr. Meijer could have called the authorities on him, but he didn't. The man actually called the authorities and worked it out so Trey could stay in East Harbor - even in the man's house.

The teen entered the house and froze with indecision. Adults had never been reliable or trustworthy in his life, but his friends felt differently. He willed his feet to move towards the office door, but they wouldn't. Trey tried to convince himself that he could trust Dr. Meijer because Michael trusted the man. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Are you alright, Trey?"

The teen opened his eyes. Dr. Meijer stood in his office doorway with a worried look on his face. Caught, Trey's heart leapt into his throat. Before his brain could prevent him, the boy blurted out, "Michael needs help."

"Wow," said Lars. "I'm really impressed you told me that, Trey. You are one special friend to Michael. If Michael needs help, I think we should to do it together. Will you help me?"

Trey nodded and followed the man into his office.

----------------------     

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 2018

It was another dismal day at practice. Michael was becoming more and more dejected about lacrosse. Rumors about the JV team swirled around both schools, but Michael wouldn't talk about it. Matthew, on the other hand, was a wealth of information. The oldest boy openly griped about the debacle that was the JV team.

"I try to help him as much as I can," explained Matthew, "but nothing I do works." He took another drink of his Gatorade. He'd only thrown on some shorts after his shower and was still drying his hair when he came to the table.

"That's tough," sympathized Simon. "I know those guys just don't respect Michael or the coaches for making him a captain." Simon was slightly more presentable having managed to throw on a t-shirt and shake out his long, black bangs.

Lukas listened. His wife beater showed off the muscles forming in his shoulders as he ran his fingers through his longish, blonde hair. He decided days ago that the guys Simon and Matthew were talking about were people Lukas didn't care to meet.

Zach and Lars joined the boys to listen to their concerns.

"Do you think your backing Michael might be the wrong thing to do?" asked Lars.

"Somebody's got to do it!" Matthew was exasperated by the entire situation and couldn't believe Lars was telling him he shouldn't support his little brother.

Lars gave the boy a moment to calm down before he continued. "When you do that, how do you think the other boys on the team take it?"

"I don't know," he said, thinking about what Lars asked. "Like, they should be listening to what Michael says, or something."

"Did you ever think that they might be thinking you are jumping in because you don't think Michael can do his job?"

Matthew backed down a bit from his stance on the topic. "No."

"You need to be careful in the way you support Michael. If you demonstrate the way your teammates are supposed to listen and follow the leadership of your team captains, then they might follow your lead. If you jump in and start telling others what to do, you might be undermining the ability of the team captains to do their jobs."

"Are you saying this my fault?" asked Matthew.

"I didn't say that," explained Lars. "I don't think you caused the issues the JV team is having, but you might not be helping the way you want." He proceeded to give all three boys a lesson on different ways to be a leader, including leading by example. The three teens listened intently.

----------------------     

While Lars talked to the older boys, Trey and Michael had a pow-wow of their own.

Feeling defeated, Michael lay sprawled across his bean bag chair. The team's first game, a preseason warm up, was the following Tuesday and Michael expected it to be simply the start of an epically disastrous season. Worst of all, it was all his fault. He was ready to quit the team, but didn't want to let his brothers, or his dads, down. The whole situation was tearing him up from the inside and was continuously feeding the demons in his head.

Trey wanted to wait until after dinner to have his conversation with Michael, but he decided now was the right time. Taking a deep breath, he ran through the speech he rehearsed while he and Lars waited for the workbook to arrive. Now that the book was here, Trey was trying not to chicken out.

Trey pulled the workbook out from under the bed and sat down next to Michael. "Michael?" He waited until he was certain to have his friend's attention.

Trey used the hem of his shirt to dry the moisture building up in his eyes. "You're the best friend I've ever had. You saved me from the streets, you've taught me about myself, and you've given me a home and friendship. I can never fully repay you, but I want to do something for you, if you'll let me... please."

The speech tugged at the younger boy's heart and distracted him from his own troubles. "You don't have to do anything," said Michael. "You're my friend. You don't owe me a thing."

"But you are hurting, and I want to help you. I have this book, we'll do it together." He showed Michael the book Lars gave him. It was a workbook for recovering from trauma.

Michael opened his mouth to object, but the look in Trey's eyes told him that it would hurt Trey if he refused. Not wanting to hurt his friend, he agreed.

The blond smiled brightly when Michael agreed, and Trey's smile made Michael crack one too.

Trey grabbed a mechanical pencil and Michael joined him on the bed. The boys set to work. They took turns reading out loud and Trey watched intently as Michael worked through the activities.

----------------------     

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2018

Lukas was first to the theater after school. With the lacrosse practices going so well, the coaches gave the middle school teams the afternoon off.

"Hi Mrs. King!" called out Lukas as he walked past her office. She was on the phone but waved to her son's friend. It wasn't often Lukas was on his own and to be perfectly honest, he didn't really care for it all that much. Well, usually he didn't. Today was a different story. Lukas was on a mission and knew his time was limited. The others would be arriving after lacrosse practice. That gave him two and a half hours to work on his project.

Dropping his backpack on the piano bench, he dug through his papers and found his music notebook and the folded piece of notebook paper that had fallen from Matthew's backpack. Moving the bag to the floor, he flipped through the notebook to find the first blank page and set it on the music desk of the band's grand piano.

Lukas had to laugh at the evidence of Michael's tribute to his father. The day the expensive Steinway piano arrived from Bruce Grant's apartment in Oregon, Michael slapped a sticker onto the piano right above the keyboard. It was of a hand flipping the middle finger. Lukas remembered Michael's glee at his act of defiance, knowing how pissed his dad would be that he defiled such a valuable instrument.

The blonde played a few chords to warm up his fingers before he remembered to grab a pencil. He moved the ribbon bookmark to the page for his new song and scribed the title at the top of the page -- "April Showers".

He unfolded the piece of notebook paper to reveal a poem Matthew had written about April. The moment he read the poem he had found on the kitchen floor, his brain began to subconsciously transform the words into lyrics of a song. The melody played in his head all week. It drove him to distraction. He was relieved to finally get it out of his head and to put it down on paper. Before putting pencil to paper, he played and sang the first verse to work on the chord progression.

Lukas was focused. The noise of the construction workers didn't even enter his consciousness. It was the lyrics, the melody, the music. Lukas felt like he was only the conduit, capturing something from the ether of time and space and simply transcribing it for the material world.

He didn't remember Mrs. King saying "bye". He wasn't aware the workers left for the weekend. He played the key change for the third verse. Finding what he thought would work, he played and sang the chorus then through the key change and the entire third verse. Confident he had it, he grabbed the pencil and scribed the music along the staff. Setting the pencil down, Lukas was startled.

"That's beautiful," said Zach. He'd come down to the theater to do a little studying before the boys arrived and was surprised to find Lukas by himself.

"Oh... uhhhh... thanks, I guess," stuttered Lukas. He was incredibly embarrassed. Always careful to not let anyone hear him play something other than drums and even more careful no one heard him sing. But Zach caught him red handed.

"Did you write the lyrics, too?"

"Oh, those? Uh, no. Don't tell Matthew, but he dropped a poem he wrote about April and I found it."

Zach made his way up onto the stage. He looked over Lukas' shoulder to see the boy's scribbled composition in the book. Leaning back, Zach noticed that the book was open to a page more than halfway through the notebook.

"You've written other songs?"

Lukas nodded.

"Do you have other notebooks?"

The blonde nodded again.

"Do you only write on the piano?"

"No, most of my songs are for guitar."

"When did you learn to play guitar and piano? I thought you only played drums."

"Simon's dad taught us."

"Didn't he die when you were like, in kindergarten or something?"

"Yeah."

"But you remember how to play the other instruments?"

"Yeah. He taught us both, but I thought guitar and piano were boring. I liked the drums more."

Zach thought about that statement for a minute. "What was boring about guitar and piano?"

"They were too easy," admitted Lukas.

----------------------     

The boys finished practicing the songs they'd be recording videos for over the weekend.

"I'm hungry," stated Michael. "Can we go home now?" It was dinner time and the snacks packed for after lacrosse had barely made a dent in their post-practice hunger.

"Yeah," agreed Lukas, "let's get out of here and see what dad's got for dinner."

"He's going to order pizzas when you guys get home," informed Zach.

"Pizza!" cheered the boys and hurried to shut down their equipment.

Then Lukas remembered, "Didn't our ad for the grand opening concert hit the high school newspaper today?" The weekly rag came out each Friday and the boys planned to run an ad each week up to spring break when the show was scheduled.

"Oh yeah, I forgot." Simon grabbed his backpack and pulled out a copy of the paper. "I didn't get a chance to even open this today."

The boys gathered around to see how the ad looked in the paper.

"Hey, that looks pretty good," admired Matthew. The photo of the band turned out really crisp and clear while the text highlighted all the details about the upcoming show.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" exclaimed Lukas.

"What?" asked Simon.

"Read the article beside the ad."

Right next to the ad was an op-ed piece entitled, "Not Worth the Money". In general, Simon wouldn't have bothered to read it. It was by the newspaper's editor, Jacob Jenkins. He was a notorious asshole. He believed that good journalism meant to be critical, and to be critical meant always having something negative to say about everything. He was destined to be a critic more than a journalist. In his op-ed for the week, he warned students not to spend their money to go to the boy's grand opening concert. He called the band "cute" and "trite", saying they were simply a "boring, human jukebox". He suggested readers to go to Apple Music and make a "free playlist of crappy 90s hits".

The boys griped about the op-ed and the asshole that placed it beside their ad to intentionally deter people from attending the show.

"We're either getting our money back or getting an apology," raged Matthew. "We paid money to advertise in that piece of shit paper and the 'editor' has the nerve to write crap about us? Fuck him and fuck the paper!"

The boys agreed and by the time they reached home, Michael had a plan.

With showers completed and pizza plated, the boys, joined by Trey, Lars, Zach, and Carol, convened in the family room.

"What are you doing, Michael?" asked Trey moments before the teen shoved a slice of Hawaiian pizza in his mouth.

"Well, none of us have really been to a concert. I think it is time we see one so we can have ideas for our show."

With his laptop hooked up to the entertainment center, he hit play so they could watch a Twenty-One Pilots concert. Thus, began the band's study of real concert experiences.

----------------------     

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 2018

The East Harbor lacrosse teams scheduled one preseason game before the season opener on March 6th. Both the middle and high school teams traveled to Poway's lacrosse club. The middle school teams would play the Titans under 15 A and B club teams and the JV and varsity teams would play the under 18 A and B teams. With two fields, the middle and high school teams would play concurrently. Since the seventh-grade team played at the same time as the JV team, Simon and Lukas were able to join Lars, Zach and Trey to watch Michael and Matthew.

Only the coaches and Luke Drake, the JV co-captain with Michael, spoke to the young boy before the game. Before the school day was even over, Michael had his game face on, and everyone knew what that meant. The only advice the coaches gave Michael was to do what he does best and to not be deterred by the boys that didn't follow.

They took the field with Michael as an outside midfielder. His speed and endurance made him a prime candidate for the position. The coaches put him on the left side so he could see the field from a similar vantage point that he saw the soccer field. Small in stature, Michael's speed and shiftiness served him well on offense. Playing defense, however, was an entirely different challenge. He even asked the coaches why they didn't play him as an attacker, so he didn't have to play as much defense. Being so much smaller than the other boys, he had to play smart and feisty, but it was a challenge a bigger player wouldn't have to face. The coaches told him that his vision of the field would be better from the midfield position because attackers are packed in with the defenders and can't see everything. They assured him his leadership on the field was more important than his disadvantage as a small player. That's why they expected him to be that leader on and off the field.

Michael understood what they wanted from him and resolved to do his best. His resolved waivered when he suffered the shock of arriving in Poway. He wasn't prepared for just how big the club players would be. A high school's JV team was made up, typically, of the younger players. But the Poway players that were Freshmen played for the U-15 team. That meant both U-18 club teams for Poway consisted of players that were older than many of East Harbors' varsity players. Michael didn't have a younger, smaller player to match up against.

For the day's match, Luke was in goal while Preston Peters and Caleb Conley, the two upperclassmen on the JV team, joined Michael as middies. Preston and Caleb also happened to be the two boys that gave Michael the hardest time. They had many gripes with the coaches. As upper classmen, they felt entitled to be on varsity - especially if a Freshman was going to be captain. Being placed on the JV team, they decided to make the best of it and make the team theirs. That plan was foiled when the team captains were selected. Starting with both boys on the field was going to be a huge test for Michael. To direct the offense and coordinate the defense, the midfielders had to be on the same page. If Preston and Caleb ignored Michael, it would open huge gaps in the defense for Poway to exploit. In other words, it would be a bloodbath.

East Harbor lined up with Preston taking face-off. Michael looked over to Matthew lined up as an attacker and his big brother gave him a nod. Michael nodded back and reflected on the two things he wanted to do this match and swallowed hard. It was either going to work, or he would quit the team.

As the refs finished their huddle, the Poway center midfielder approached Preston. "We've heard all you East Harbor boys are faggots. After we kick your ass, maybe we'll let you suck our dicks."

Before Preston could attack, Caleb and Michael were there to pull him away and settle him down. He ignored Michael, but Caleb managed to calm his partner in crime. Michael made note of Poway's number 9. "He's the one," Michael murmured under his breath taking in the bigger boy from head to toe. Ace Simmons was the Poway coach's younger son. He stood just over six feet tall and had a solid, athletic build. Not what Michael had hoped for, but it was today or never.

Just minutes into the first quarter, Poway was up 3-0. The East Harbor players that didn't want to buy into the system and the coaches' decision were already frustrated. Preston, Caleb and others argued with the coaches and the other players.

Michael knew this was time for step one of his plan. He couldn't lead the players that didn't want him as their leader, so he needed to show them that he's willing to be a tough, strong leader to those that support his being team captain.

Coming off the face-off, some of the deflated East Harbor players let up. On a turnover, Matthew, with his speed, could have easily caught the Poway player. Instead he let up and let the midfielders take the player. As a result of letting the defender run free, Poway managed a breakaway and had a two-on-one against Luke. Luke had played well to keep the Titans to only three goals, but he was no match for their two attackers. With the fourth goal, Michael turned to Matthew.

"What the hell was that?" he screamed at his big brother. "If you aren't going to get off your ass and play, get off the field and let someone else play!"

Matthew started to argue with Michael, but Lars' words chimed in his head. The words rang true. "Sorry! My bad! It won't happen again!" Matthew refocused and recommitted to the match. Caleb and Preston took notice.

Preston won the face-off and passed to Caleb. Caleb started down the sideline when he caught Michael cut back away from his defender. With a quick flip, Caleb passed the ball to Michael. Just like in Michael's old two-on-two games with Gavin, he caught the pass and felt his bigger defender on his hip lunge for the pass. Michael quickly spun the opposite way and caught sight of the back of a Saber jersey that read "MA MEJIER 21". Matthew looked back and Michael flicked the ball to Matthew cutting across the field just outside the crease. Employing his speed and elusive moves as a running back in football, Matthew found an opening in the defense and scored East Harbor's first goal. The boys cheered, lifting the spirit of the entire team.

Step one had started off with some success. Michael had become more vocal on the field and ignored the fuckups of the asshole players while leading the ones that would follow. Time to initiate step two.

They lined up for the face-off and waited for the official. Michael followed Preston to the center circle when the green jersey of Ace Simmons approached.

"Lucky score, faggots," he spit at Preston.

Michael stepped in between the boys a looked up at the tall Poway player.

"If you want to call someone a faggot, that's me. I'm the faggot on the team. And if you have a problem with that, I'll kick your ass."

Michael glanced over to see the official approaching.

"Listen you little smart-ass faggot." The Poway player saw the official coming.

"I got this Preston," said Michael stepping up to take the face-off. Preston looked over at the sideline and the coaches simply nodded their approval of Michael's decision. They were curious to what the boy was doing.

Michael lost the face-off, but was a fast, scrappy defender. He was all over the larger boy but careful to not foul. The Poway player focused on Michael and committed a turnover leading to an East Harbor fast break and score.

"Simmons! Get your head out of your ass!" yelled the Poway coach. Simmons was frustrated and it showed.

Lining up for the next face-off, Michael taunted the Poway player. "Awww, did this little faggot kick your ass?"

Simmons turned to Michael with fire in his eyes.

"I'm going to kick your fucking ass."

"Maybe, after we beat you, I'll let you suck my dick," rebutted Michael before the ref arrived. "Preston, you take this one."

The older East Harbor player snickered at what Michael had said to Simmons as he and Michael swapped spots.

Preston won the face-off and Michael forced a fake, loud laugh to tweak Simmons. The Poway team was coached to run their offense through Ace and Michael knew if he was able to get into Ace's head and throw him off his game, he could get Ace to do what he wanted. Well, wanted isn't quite the right word there. Michael really didn't want Ace to do it, he needed Ace to do it.

Switching back and forth, Michael lined up some possessions where he directed the offense and defense from the wing, and others where he was a crazed defender driving the coach's son crazy.

The Saber JV team fought back. With Luke's fantastic goaltending, the score was 7-7 midway through the second quarter. The Poway players were getting frustrated. Michael's example of energetic defense and hard play, and Matthew's following Michael's example after getting yelled at, the rest of the team started to follow suit and realized it was the impetus of their success.

On a failed shot on goal by East Harbor, Poway went on offense. Michael switched off with Preston so he could guard Ace again. Ace saw Preston drop off his coverage but didn't see Michael move in. When the defender sent the ball to Ace, the teen turned to catch it over his shoulder while he headed down field. Michael noticed the lack of hustle and beat Ace to the spot. Michael snagged the ball from the Poway team captain and sprinted down the field. Simmons swiped at Michael with his crosse and missed the speedy boy. Each of the Poway defenders covered an East Harbor attacker but no Poway middie could catch up with Michael, he had too much of a head start.

Michael watched as the middle defender stepped away from the East Harbor attacker to come his way. With a step and a head fake towards Matthew, the defender shifted his hips to cover the pass. Just like in soccer, that was what Michael hoped. It would give him enough time, and space, to slip to his right and take an open shot on goal. Just like Gavin taught him, Michael reared back and with all his strength, he drilled a shot at the five-hole. With a skip off the grass between the goalie's knees, Michael had given East Harbor its first lead.

The comeback by the JV team, and their tenacious play, had brought the eighth-grade coaches and players to the high school field to watch and cheer for their friends. The noise that erupted from the East Harbor sidelines surprised fans and players on both fields.

Michael took the next face-off and again, lost to Simmons. That was his plan. He was ready to go right into playing defense. To Simmons it was like Michael had four arms and legs and Ace's frustration grew. The six-foot center midfielder sent a pass upfield only to have his stick deflect off Michael's sending the pass off target. Michael turned to see an East Harbor defender intercept the errant pass. Before he could turn up field on offense, a stick slammed into the back of Michael's shoulder pads lifting the smaller boy off his feet and landing sprawled out on the ground. Michael was caught off guard. The sudden impact surprised him. Once he realized what had happened, he smiled to himself and hurried back on offense.

With another East Harbor goal, Poway was frustrated. Michael took the face-off against Simmons and jumped right into defense mode. Ace managed to get a pass off before Michael was on him, but the smaller boy played tight defense.

"Get the fuck off me, faggot," said Simmons, shoving Michael with his elbow.

Michael, keeping his back to Simmons so it didn't look like a confrontation, retorted, "You know you want my ass, you homo."

The ball was passed across the field and Michael tried to shift from Ace's right to his left. Two steps later, Ace swept Michael's feet from under the boy sending him to the ground again. "Fuck you," hissed Ace.

Michael glanced to make sure the officials were on their way up field as play moved towards the Poway goal after a turnover.

He got up and assumed a passive posture. He dropped his hands to his side, he dropped his crosse to the ground and faced Simmons. Just loud enough for Simmons to hear, Michael said, "You are such a pussy. You tripped me because you're scared I'll kick..."

Michael didn't get to complete his sentence. Simmons' stick came into the boy's view. Michael clenched his fists and closed his eyes. Typically, a cheap shot like this would have hit the opponent in the arm. However, Michael was substantially shorter than the other players. In his fury, Simmons' clubbed Michael right upside the head causing Michael to stumble and drop to a knee. The coaches and officials witnessed the assault - a high school sophomore clubbed a defenseless 11-year-old in the head.

The coaches and officials rushed the field to break up the boys before the players knew what happened. Whistles blew and shouting told the players to drop to a knee and remain where they were. But not all of the players listened. Matthew rushed to his brother's side while Caleb and Preston when after Simmons. The East Harbor coaches had to physically restrain the older boys from attacking the Poway team captain. The officials asked the Poway coaches to escort Simmons from the field. The coach's son was ejected from the match. Coach Lange, East Harbor's varsity lacrosse coach watched to see how his JV coaches handled the situation while he made a quick phone call. He contacted the district's Athletic Director to tell him to get to Poway immediately and bring the Superintendent. He wanted his superiors to be on site in case Michael's family chose to press charges against the Poway player or take other action.

Matthew reached Michael and pulled his team mates away to get to his little brother. "Oh my god, Michael, are you okay?"

Michael's ears rang and his head hurt, but he grinned at his big bro'. "Did it work?"

"What?" asked Matthew. He wondered just how hard Michael had been hit.

He peaked around Matthew to see Preston and Caleb leading the verbal assault of the Poway team. The East Harbor team was rallying around Michael to battle as one.

When the dust settled, the Sabers huddled to regroup before playing the final minute of the first half.

"Alright guys," said Michael excitedly, "we've got them on their heels. Let's play fast, let's play quick, and let's giv'em hell on defense. We've scored two quick goals and we can certainly score more. Sabers on three -- one, two, three!"

The team yelled at the top of their lungs, "SABERS!" Michael had finally earned the right to be called captain of the JV team and the Saber players were now all on the same page.

Poway won the face-off and were quickly on the East Harbor goalie. With some quick passes, they found an opening and took a shot.

Luke reached up and snagged a shot heading to the upper corner of the net -- a shot he had no business saving. With a quick flip, he sent the ball up the far side of the field to Caleb who started a fast break against the Titans with just seconds left in the half.

All eyes watched as Caleb and Preston got the ball up field. The Sabers out-numbered the Titans five-on-three. Matthew got the pass and drew a double team. He saw Preston open at the top and sent a pass to the center middie. Preston, in one motion, caught the pass then sent it over the goalie's left shoulder giving East Harbor a three-goal lead going into halftime.

As the cheering died down, a shout from down field could be heard.

"Coach! Help!"

Looking back down towards the East Harbor goal, Luke was out on the field with his helmet off yelling. He was kneeling by a player lying on the ground. Everyone turned to see the gun metal gray jersey with lime green trim on the number 12 and the letters that spelled out MI MEIJER. There was no movement from the body crumpled on the ground.