Choosing Teams

Choosing Teams

Published by DeweyWriter Ltd.

This story is copyrighted by the author and the author retains all rights. This work may not be duplicated in any form, physical, electronic, audio, or other forms known or unknown without the author’s express written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply and will be enforced.

“Hey lame brain! Fix this for me!” shouted Chris Vincent as he tossed his helmet at the smaller boy.

Eric Laemett flinched slightly as the heavy football helmet struck him in the back, but made no other acknowledgement that he’d been addressed. The helmet rattled around on the floor at his feet as he continued working on the junction box for the coaches’ communication set. They were always complaining that the thing was breaking, and if Eric had fixed it once, he’d fixed it a thousand times. He’d asked the coaches about getting another set, but the budget didn’t allow for it.

“Did you hear me, lame brain?” Vincent asked, his tone vicious and loud.

The boy again ignored the large young man, intent on his task. The apparent indifference to his presence incensed Vincent to the point of anger. He approached Eric from the rear and shoved him. The momentary sizzle of burning flesh came from within the box Eric had been repairing. Eric whirled around, a grimace of pain on his face. He glared up at his assailant, and then turned back to his work. A low chuckle issued from the bully’s mouth.

“Make sure it’s fixed for the game tomorrow, lame brain. Don’t make me hurt you again.”

Nick Voghtman watched the byplay from a short distance away. The starting quarterback had watched the lineman approach the smaller equipment manager with a sense of foreboding, knowing that the confrontation would result in Eric Laemett coming away from the encounter injured in some way.

Eric was often harassed by the larger football players, but he continued to do his best to make sure the team was ready for each practice and game no matter how much abuse was heaped on him, and no matter how many real injuries he suffered at their hands.

The urge to intercede rose in Nick’s mind, but he stopped himself from acting on it. Nick was hiding behind his jock persona, and that role had certain requirements. He was part of the gang, and it was more or less expected that he would also harass Eric and others like him: the undesirables in the school; the geeks, fatboys, losers and fags that made up the dregs of the social structure in any high school in the country. Nick suppressed the pang of guilt he felt. He wouldn’t do anything to call attention to the fact he was different than Chris Vincent, David Lowe, and Dennis Reel. He wouldn’t show the world how he truly felt, because to do so would put him in jeopardy of joining those he felt he was forced to prey upon.

There were few who were spared the torment Chris, Dennis, and David could, and often did, visit on whomever had the misfortune of being near. Even their teammates were subjected to their vicious pranks and cutting remarks. Nick managed to avoid the worst of it, but even he wasn’t immune to their sometimes sadistic sense of humor. His association with Chris, David, and Dennis gave Nick a somewhat unsavory reputation, but in his estimation, the isolation that came with the rep was worth staying off of the firing line.

A sigh of relief found its way to the surface as Chris walked away from Eric, escaping Nick’s body before he could stop it. Nick hoped that Eric was not hurt badly.

“What’s up, Nicky?” asked Dennis Reel asked from the next locker over. “You look like someone died. Ain’t you up for this game tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m up for it. Just thinking.”

“Uh oh. Now I know something’s up,” Dennis said. “You don’t think unless there’s something wrong or a girl involved.”

Ignoring the jibe, Nick replied, “No, really. I’m just running down what I have to do before tomorrow. Homework and stuff,” he lied.

“Yeah. Right. Whatever,” Dennis said, unconvinced. “Hey, David, Chris and me are going to get burgers. You wanna come?”

Nick half-heartedly replied, “Sure.”

For all that David, Chris and Dennis were his best friends, he felt as distant from them as Eric must feel from him. Their entire attitude spoke of assuredness that they were superior to everyone else. It galled Nick that he was counted as one of them, but again, he was afraid of becoming one of the outcasts.

Nick turned once more to watch Eric, who was unplugging the soldering iron he had been using to repair the communications set. Eric then examined his finger where he had been burned. It was blistered and red in color. Eric packed away his tools, took the communications set and walked away from the work bench, leaving Chris’s helmet where it lay on the floor.

Nick thought, Eric is gonna get the crap beat out of him, as he watched the small boy walk out of the room. Chris is going to pound him.

“Where’d that little lame brain fucker go?” Chris roared.

“Dunno,” David replied. “He was here just a second ago.”

Chris asked, “Nicky, did you see him leave?”

Nick shook his head, saying nothing.

“He better get my helmet fixed for tomorrow or I’ll use him as a tackling dummy,” Chris said to no one in particular.

“He’d only last for one hit,” Dennis laughed.

“So he’s a disposable dummy: one hit and throw him in the trash!” Chris added.

David chortled, “If you don’t have to scrape him up with a spatula!”

David roared at his own joke, joined by Dennis and Chris. Nick smiled at them for a moment before turning away and leaving for home, forgetting he had agreed to eat with his friends.

Dennis, Chris and David were waiting for Nick the next morning as they prepared for their morning classes. Nick watched as David reached out and tripped another student, causing him to fall to the floor. With laughter surrounding him, Lance Carlisle gathered his books and slowly picked himself up off the floor.

He was a big kid, weighing almost two hundred and fifty pounds, and was constantly teased about his obesity from all sides, and especially by the jocks, but Lance had learned that not reacting to his tormentors was the best reaction. As he got to his feet, David shoved him with his foot, propelling Lance down the hall.

Nick looked at his friends. They were laughing and carrying on, verbally bashing Lance for his weight. A quick glance saw Lance again passing by on the other side of the hall, but he obviously heard the comments being made. Nick, watching after him, saw Lance wipe at his eyes. A sudden wave of compassion passed through Nick’s thoughts as he realized Lance was most probably crying as a result of what had just occurred. As Nick shook his head in sympathy, he lost sight of Lance in the crowd.

With the morning classes over, it was time for the team to climb onto the bus for the long trip to the game. Their opponent’s field was over two hundred miles away and five hours by bus. Chris Vincent was charging around the locker room as they packed their things, asking if anyone had seen his helmet and pronouncing dire fates waiting for Eric if Vincent didn’t find it. In spite of his tirade, his helmet was not found. When Chris tried to approach the coach about his missing helmet, he was directed to get on the bus immediately and wasn’t able to get a word in. He did as he was told, worrying aloud that the lame brain would forget to bring the helmet.

Nick, who boarded with Dennis shortly after Chris was ordered out, watched to see when Eric got on the bus, but the manager did not appear until the coaches boarded. He sat in a seat near the front, and his late arrival prevented anyone from questioning him. Chris became more and more agitated as the bus ride went on, convinced that he wouldn’t be able to play because Eric had forgotten the helmet Chris had unceremoniously dumped on him.

When they pulled into the parking lot at our destination, Eric was the first one off the bus and immediately carried a large bag into the locker room as he did at every away game. He had made three trips from the bus to the locker room by the time Dennis, Chris and Nick got off the bus. It was obvious that Chris was looking forward to some time alone with Eric, but Nick didn’t think that would serve either the senior lineman or the manager well, so when Chris moved to confront the smaller boy, Nick held him back.

“Just ask him for the helmet, Chris.”

“Oh, I’m going to ask, all right,” Vincent said caustically.

“Don’t hurt him,” Nick clarified.

“I won’t. Not much, anyway.”

“I mean it, Chris.”

“What? Are you going soft on us, Voghtman?” Dennis Reel asked from behind Nick.

“No, but all hurting him will do is make him angry,” Nick nervously explained. “He might not give you the helmet even if he has it, then.”

“And then I’d kill him,” Chris said ominously, “and that’s no lie.”

The large youth stomped over to where Eric was picking up a few more bags of equipment and said something the Nick couldn’t hear. Eric shrugged and walked away. Chris followed him, still speaking in a menacing tone, and Eric, to all appearances, was ignoring Vincent. Nick hurried after them, being curious as well as dreading the outcome of the confrontation.

In the locker room, controlled anarchy reigned. Boys were running around yelling at the top of their lungs. Some players were already dressing down for the contest that would take place in a few hours time. As they entered, Chris grabbed Eric by the shoulder and spun him around, causing him to drop some of his burden. The kid glared at his assailant for an instant before recovering what he had lost and continuing on his way. Nick watched as Chris pursued Eric across the space, but he stopped abruptly when the equipment manager entered the coaches’ office. Cursing, he turned around and stalked back to his friends.

“That fucker just ignored me. He didn’t say a goddamn word!”

“Did you ask him?” Nick asked mildly.

“I said, ‘Where’s my fucking helmet, you cocksucker?’ He fucking shrugged! He needs to be put in his place.”

“Yeah,” agreed David Lowe, who held Eric in an even lower regard. “He’s getting to be a smartass.”

Even though he doesn’t open his mouth? thought Nick.

“Just leave him alone, guys.” Nick said, as surprised as his friends that he had spoken the words.

“What gives, Voghtman? You going queer for him?” David asked derisively.

“Fuck you, Lowe! I just don’t think you should hassle him when he takes care of your equipment. You never know what might happen, or what might get lost.”

“I’d like to see him try that with my stuff,” Dennis commented angrily. “I’d destroy him.”

Nick whirled on his team mate. “And what would that prove? That you can beat up someone half your size? That you’re better than him just because you play a fucking game? How stupid can you be? Just leave the kid alone.”

Dennis, David and Chris stood staring at Nick, not believing what they had just heard.

“What is up with you?” Dennis asked uncertainly. “Why do you care what happens to him?”

“Because it’s not right, that’s why. Nothing you guys do is right! I saw you trip Lance Carlisle, David. What has he ever done to you? Huh?”

“He exists, that’s what!” quipped David, but Nick continued as though he hadn’t heard.

“And the rest of you stood there and laughed at him! And then you kicked him, David! What kind of shit is that?”

“It’s funny shit,” Chris chuckled.

A silence surrounded the four young men amid the clamor in the locker room. Nick observed his three teammates as though seeing who they were for the first time.

Dennis shook his head. “Come on guys. It looks like Nicky’s decided to go dumpster diving for his friends,” the boy said derisively.

“No, I’m climbing out of the dumpster,” Nick retorted. “I didn’t realize how much it smells down there with the trash. Do me a favor: stay down wind. Or better yet, don’t come anywhere near me. And stay away from Eric, too.”

“You’re abandoning your friends for that piece of shit?” David asked contemptuously.

“No, I’m giving up three pieces of shit for a person who might be my friend.”

“You trying to get your ass beat, Voghtman?” demanded Chris, cracking his knuckles.

“What are you going to do? Attack me right here? How many people do you think would jump you in about two seconds if you did that? The coaches would be racing to see who could suspend or expel you first.”

“Fuck you,” spat Vincent.

“No thank you. We’re on the same team together. I’ll play the game with you, but other than that, leave me alone. Leave Eric alone, and leave Lance alone, too. I’m through with you.”

The three angry friends walked away, leaving behind a person they had counted as one of their own scant moments earlier. Nick watched them move away with an air of disgust.

A quiet voice from behind, barely audible over the din, said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Nick glanced at the equipment manager watching him, and then at the retreating forms. “You know what, Eric?” the older boy replied a moment later, “I think I did. The crap they pull is stupid. I don’t want to be around it anymore.”

“They’re going to try and make your life hard. Is it worth losing your friends over?”

Nick looked at the face peering up at him. A sense of peace washed over him as he realized he would not have to be someone he wasn’t any longer.

“They weren’t my friends. They were just guys I hung out with because I thought I was supposed to. Besides, I can make more friends. I’d like to start with you, if I can.”

Eric Laemett stared at Nick Voghtman for a long, uncomfortable minute, and then said, “We’ll see,” before turning and walking away.

“Hey, Eric!”

The equipment manager turned around. “Yeah?”

“Did you fix Chris’s helmet?”

“Yeah, did you, lame brain?” sneered Vincent from behind Nick.

Eric calmly turned away, walked to a pile of gym bags, picked one up, and returned with it.

“Here it is, asshole,” grated Eric as he unzipped the bag, and proceeded to dump out Chris Vincent’s completely disassembled helmet. Screws, washers and other small pieces skittered across the floor. As the lineman gawked at Eric in astonishment, Eric tossed him a screwdriver and walked away, saying, “Oh, and if you need any help, fuck off.”

Nick Voghtman watched the smaller boy walk away with admiration, and couldn’t keep himself from laughing. He began to clap in appreciation, and was quickly joined by others. The usual cacophony of voices was replaced by the thunder of applause. Chris could do nothing but look on when he realized he had been defeated at his own game.

Eric walked away without a backward glance, but you could see his satisfied grin in his step.