Matthew Thorne leaped down the stairs three at a time. He was sixteen, and the year had finally come, the year that he would be able to go out for a sports team at his high school! He was not sure what he would go for yet—football or basketball, or maybe even track—but he knew what he was not going out for, and that was baseball. He was terrible at hitting, catching, and throwing, since he was more used to larger-sized balls, so the only thing he could do was run—and if he was unable to actually hit the ball in the first place, it wasn’t like he would get a chance to run, anyway.
He finally found his shoes—though they were so old the soles were peeling away from the bottom, the white plastic paint so worn the shoes looked grey, and the laces replaced a record of seven times, they were his favorites—the same style he had been wearing since he was eight. He slipped them on without even untying them, then raced into the kitchen to greet his mom, who was hovering over a frying pan on the stove.
She smiled wearily as he came in, accentuating the small wrinkles around her eyes. Sarah was only thirty-nine, but she had been under so much stress after Matthew’s father left that she now looked about fifty. She had been forced to work two jobs for three years so that she and Matthew could afford the house his father had bought them, which had luckily been half paid off before his disappearing act. Now she stood before him, financially independent, but one of the unhappiest women Matthew had ever known.
“Hey, Sport,” she said, turning the page of the newspaper she had propped in front of her on the stove. “Ready for your big day?”
“You bet!” Matthew cheered. “I can’t wait to get out there and try out!”
“What are you trying out for?” Sarah asked, stirring whatever heavenly-smelling food she had cooking in the frying pan.
“Everything!” Matthew shouted, throwing his arms in the air. “I’ll get in every team and be the first person to create a healthy human clone because I’ll need a few to get to all my games!”
“And I’ll be the second, so I can watch all your games!” Sarah laughed. She turned away from her stove and faced Matthew. “Oh, Matt.” She walked up to him and held his face in her hands in a very mom-like manner. He was only sixteen, but he was already almost a foot taller than she was. “I am so proud of you and what you’ve become. I cannot believe you’re already leaving for your junior year of high school today! It seems like only yesterday you were eight and…” She stopped abruptly, smiled sadly, and returned to the stove.
Matthew frowned. He knew what had happened. His dad, Jonathan, had left them the day Matthew had turned eight, and they had not seen him since. Matthew hated his dad—he had seen firsthand what his abandonment had done to his mom, and he loved his mom more than anyone. Every time Matthew thought about his father, hatred boiled up inside him that made his stomach clench and his fists shake. He could picture himself grabbing the man by the throat and squeezing it until his squealing ceased, then throwing him into a fire so no one would even know he was gone.
“Matt?”
Matthew returned to the present, remembering that his mom was talking to him.
“Eat up, you’ll need your strength for all those sports.” Sarah had placed a heaping platter of bacon, eggs, and fried potatoes on the table for him.
“Nah,” Matthew said tonelessly. “I’m not hungry. See you at five.” He waved halfheartedly as he left the kitchen, then grabbed his backpack and left the house. He felt guilty leaving his mom so suddenly, but he sensed that, had he stayed any longer, he would have punched a hole in the wall. Matthew knew he was leaving way too early, but he kept walking anyway, partly so he would not go back home and have at the house with a baseball bat—but mostly because he needed a little reassurance, and therefore had someone to meet.
Just as the thought passed through his mind, he felt the wind begin to blow, seeming to push him forward, although he knew the air was still. He felt a slight warmth begin to tingle in the pit of his stomach, seeping through the rest of his body like ink flowing from the tip of a pen into the follicles of paper. He knew what was happening, and a smile played across his lips as he thought, He’s here.
“Hey Matt.” Matthew heard the silky voice flowing out of his own mouth, though he was not speaking them. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Matthew answered, his voice echoing inside his own head, his lips not moving. Ira had come out from inside him and Matthew had to surrender his body to Ira’s use to do so.
Ira had become a part of Matthew’s life eight years ago, the night his father walked out on him and his mom. He was the little voice in Matthew’s head that counseled and reassured him when he couldn’t take life on alone. He had always known he had outgrown talking to him so blatantly like this long ago, but just closing his eyes and thinking didn’t give him the same feeling. He had to completely let go of himself and allow Ira to surface for their conversations to have any real value.
“I hope this isn’t too weird, talking out here, but I kinda didn’t have a choice today.” Though they talked like this all the time, they were usually holed up in Matthew’s bedroom, not sitting on a public street. But it would have been weird to go back to his room after coming downstairs so awake, so this had become his only chance.
“Nah, I was hoping I’d get to talk to you before school started, anyway,” Ira assured him. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I know what thinking about Jon does to you sometimes, especially if Mom brings it up.”
While he had talked to his mother occasionally, Matthew had preferred confiding in Ira growing up, mostly because he was a neutral party. He had no sympathy or hatred toward Jonathan, just listened to Matthew vent his feelings until he felt somewhat functional. Ira was the only person to whom Matthew had confessed that he actually missed his deadbeat dad, especially on days like Open House at school, when the parents were supposed to come and see their children’s work; Matthew always showed up with Sarah and her mother, Liana, but no father. Matthew trusted Ira, and Ira accepted his trust like it was an honor to receive—which, coming from Matthew, it was.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine, just needed to hear your voice.” Matthew sighed internally—not that he really had a choice, now—he was much calmer than he had been. “I just need to get to school, and falling into that pattern will get me out of the funk.”
“Yeah, seeing everyone won’t hurt either. And you’re looking forward to going out for all those sports later, assume?”
“Yeah, I am,” Matthew said, smiling at the thought. “What do you think I’ll make?”
“Anything you want enough, you’ll get,” Ira told him confidently. “You’re a great player, plus you’re well-known and well-liked. They have no reason not to take you.” Then he added, “Not to mention I’ll be here to help if you start to screw yourself up.
“Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Matthew joked. But Ira always did give him confidence, even when they had not physically spoken, just by being there for him.
“So, do you think you’ll need my help out there, or can I relax the afternoon away?”
“Nah, I don’t think I will, but feel free to jump in and give me a hand if you think I need it. You obviously have a much different perspective than I do.” This was an on-going joke between them—Ira had never physically taken over, just helped Matthew see from a different side to better understand the situation. Like it was possible, anyway.
“All right then, glad to hear it. I think I’ll get going now, though. You’re about to have company.”
“All right, then. Later.” Matthew’s stomach seemed to melt coldly away, as though he had swallowed a gallon of ice water in a single gulp. His body felt slightly numb, pins and needles creeping through his limbs. He stood up, trying to shake the feeling of coldness and, worst of all, loneliness from his system. As he did so, he heard the chatter of a small group of people growing off to his left. He turned in the direction of the sounds and saw two kids his own age walking up the street toward him.
“Hey Matt!” the boy of the duo called to him, waving an arm. He had short spiked hair, which was frosted with blond against its natural brown, and he was wearing a tight white T-shirt and baggy blue jeans. The girl beside him waved her small hand lightly too, not wanting to feel left out. She was very pretty, with blonde, waist-length hair and big blue eyes.
“What’s up, Josh?” Matthew said, clapping hands with the boy who had called to him.
The boy had been Matthew’s best friend since he was nine, and had been Matthew’s one reminder that life was still happening after Jon had left. Josh had introduced him to the world of sports—and the even bigger world of competition. They had actually met in a summer sports program, during the baseball season, Josh’s forte. Josh had heard about how much natural talent Matthew had at everything, and was quite disappointed when he realized baseball was not one of Matthew’s callings, as he had been looking forward to playing him, and felt he had been cheated out of a great game. Josh confronted Matthew after the game, calling him names and daring him to try and get him back. Matthew consented, leaving Josh with a black eye and three loose teeth, while Matthew went home sporting a bloody nose and bruised rib—after a trip to the hospital, they were friends for life.
“So, Matt, you trying for a sport after school?” Josh asked, a hint of taunting in his voice. “I’m going for baseball as you know—which you’re more than welcome to watch, of course. You’ll get more out of it that way than from actually trying out for it.”
Matthew punched him not-so-lightly on the arm. “Just ’cause I can’t go for baseball doesn’t mean I can’t try out for everything else, dumbass.”
“All this acrimony isn’t going to get either of you into the sports you want,” the girl next to Josh said smoothly.
Josh rolled his eyes. “‘Acrimony’? Having fun with your latest vocabulary word, there, Brooke?” Matthew stifled a laugh.
“Neither of you are going to make any teams with attitudes like yours, so you’ll just have to spend your time at home instead, playing your non—” She paused for a moment, as if trying to remember the correct word. “—sensical video games!” She enjoyed voicing her opinion, especially if it was one to which one no one cared to listen. “Nobody will want a couple of contemptuous, half-witted guys like you on any teams! They’ll be afraid you’ll assault anyone who doesn’t pass the ball to you!”
“When I said I liked girls with brains, I didn’t mean try to fit the entire dictionary into every sentence,” Matthew snickered. She pouted.
Brooke had expressed feelings toward Matthew earlier that summer, at which time Matthew told her he did not want to be with someone he barely knew, especially if she was in every assisted learning class their school had to offer and cared more about cheerleading than her own future. After this encounter, Brooke had signed up for higher classes—including geometry, though she was barely ready for pre-algebra—and quit the cheer squad to spend more time with Matthew and his friends, with hopes that Matthew might like her if she was smarter. But Matthew was not interested in the girlish charms she had honed so meticulously; he cared about school and sports, his friends, and his mom, so the last thing on his list of priorities was a girl who did not know the difference between there, their, and they’re.
The three walked together, talking and laughing (usually at each others’ expense) all the way to school. Orange Grove High wasn’t anything special, just another obscure high school in another obscure town, but to them it was like a second home. This was where they got to be who they really were and leave everything else at home. No parents, no abuse, nothing. Just them, being themselves.
They were swamped with people the moment they stepped on campus, cheerleaders, jocks, bookworms, geeks, everyone. Brooke was the new cheer captain, and therefore soon abandoned the boys to pursue her own social exploits with her fellow blondes. Matthew and Josh stayed together, regardless of the way Josh’s popular friends and Matthew’s everyday regular ones seemed to split down the middle of them and stick to their respective sides. Josh couldn’t help finding friends like those, they were so suited to his personality, but Matthew preferred the weird, quiet ones, as they seemed far more genuine and real.
Soon after the initial friendly swapping of salutations, the jocks and others dissipated, and the next wave started—the girls.
Matthew and Josh could have had any girl in their grade level—even some above, as Brooke had illustrated, since she was seventeen and in her senior year. The two boys had, separately, very redeeming qualities, but when together they seemed to form the ideal male specimen. Josh had naturally toned muscles and was five foot eleven and a half, giving him a perfect physique to accent any girl he was with. He did not, however, have a becoming personality, often talking to so many girls they considered him a player, and other times being so cold or hurtful that no one wanted to be around him. Josh was known to have a temper, which was why Matthew was the perfect wingman for him. Matthew had a more caring, empathetic personality, which balanced Josh’s fiery disposition. He did not have the huge muscles many thought he would because he was an athlete, and had, in fact, a tall and surprisingly lanky figure, though he was anything but skinny—his metabolism never stopped running, keeping him trim no matter how much he ate or what he did. Matthew was also the highest in many of his classes, unfortunately making him a prime target for girls who “needed a tutor”.
While Josh loved all the attention, hence his jock friends, Matthew was very reserved about his popularity. He liked having so many friends, but he was just as happy to go sit quietly in the library and read, or hang back from the main group and talk to some of the less ‘cool’ kids. Not to mention he wasn’t really all that into girls. Josh always joked that Matthew was gay—which was not the case by a long shot—it was just that Matthew just could not understand what all the fuss was about them. He didn’t mind them, he had several close friends who were girls, and he’d had a ‘girlfriend’ when he was twelve (with whom he had never spent any time, so they were broken up before the word had gotten out they were together), but he had never gotten into a ‘hard-core relationship,’ as Josh so eloquently put it.
“Hey, Matthew,” some cheerleader he didn’t know said smoothly, running her fingers through her platinum blonde hair. “I know that math is gonna kill me, and I haven’t even been to a class yet. Why don’t we get some studying done before school starts?”
“That math should be simple for you; you’ve taken it, what, twice already?” Matthew didn’t feel like playing these stupid girly games—he wanted to find Coach Dawson, his PE teacher from the last two years, and start his inquiry towards every team the school could offer him so he could play some real games.
“Yo Josh, wanna come with me to the field so we can ask Coach about the teams?”
“I’ll catch up,” Josh said in an oily voice, eyeing the cheerleader that Matthew had just rejected.
Matthew shook his head and took off in the direction of the PE field. The whole campus was outdoor, other than the classrooms of course, and as Matthew jogged through the open halls, he eyed the classrooms, memorizing the route he’d have to take to each class. He knew he’d still manage to forget a few times, but soon it would all be muscle memory. He broke free of the buildings and, as he ran more quickly across the grass, called to a tall, thick man with the just the slightest beer belly who was standing in the dugout of the baseball diamond scribbling on a clipboard.
“Hey, Coach!” Coach Dawson turned at the sound of his favorite student’s voice, raising his ball cap to see better against the sun.
“Thorne!” he said loudly, smiling as he waved then shook hands with him when the boy caught up. “How’ve you been, eh? Training every day, I’ll bet.”
“That’s right!” Matthew panted. His heart was racing, partly from excitement, and partly from being out of breath. “All the time, alone and with Michaels.” He was referring to Josh, as Dawson had always insisted they called each other by surnames only; something about focusing on the game, not each other.
“You’re out of breath, just from that?” Dawson exclaimed after hearing Matthew’s breathing, looking horrified. “You couldn’t have been training, boy, you’d have been able to sprint that like nothing!”
“Oh shut up, I’m excited,” Matthew retorted. “And besides, you don’t exactly look fit, either,” he added, tapping the coach’s belly with a pretend punch. “Was the six pack just not worth it, so you started on a keg?”
Dawson took a fake swipe at the kid, but Matthew dodged it easily. No other teacher was as comfortable around his students. “I suppose you’re here to sign up for try-outs, right?” he said unenthusiastically, looking down at his clipboard as if to search for a name he didn’t remember.
“Yup,” Matthew answered, “and I don’t care what sport it is, because I’m signing up no matter what!”
Dawson laughed heartily at that. “Well, I’m glad you’re so excited, but we’re not doing sign-ups for anything you’d be interested in ’til next week—unless you want to sign on for cheerleading try-outs, of course,” he added sarcastically. “I’m sure you’d look just adorable in a skirt.”
Matthew’s face contorted with disgust. “No thanks, Coach. Even I’m not that good.”
Dawson laughed. “See you later then, right?”
“Right.” As Matthew jogged in the opposite direction, he saw Josh heading his way.
“Hey!” he called. “Is it baseball, or something else you suck at?”
“I think it’s right up your alley!” Matthew called back, suppressing a grin. He wished he could be there when Josh started running his mouth about how great he was for cheerleading, but he had a math class to attend.