Maddox

I’D NEVER DREADED anything in my life the way I was dreading winter break and the trip with the swim team. The semester ended in two days. I felt like I was going insane, drenched in misery. In the week leading up to it, I was barely sleeping, and barely eating. Everyone could tell something was wrong, especially Ren.

Since my incident with O’Conner, I’d completely avoided the three of them during practice. I didn’t make eye contact, or respond if they spoke to me. I probably seemed like a mental patient to the rest of the team, but I didn’t know what else to do.

I’d never felt so isolated and ostracized by a group of people before. In high school, I’d more or less been at the top of the social food chain. Things had definitely changed. But despite no longer schmoozing with the popular crowd, I was happier than I’d ever been in every other aspect of my life. With Ren, and everyone else. Since my birthday party, I’d come to appreciate all of them in a new way. Even Caelyx. It was a weird feeling, but I wasn’t going to fight against it.

During practice, Coach Larson had asked me to stay behind to talk to him, so once everyone was done eating, I slipped into his office.

“You wanted to see me?” My stomach was thrashing like an ocean in a storm.

“Sit down, Holmes,” he invited, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. I sat, eyeing him cautiously. I hadn’t been a teacher’s pet do-gooder in school, but I’d never gotten a see me after class type lecture either. “Don’t look so nervous,” he said. “You’re not in trouble.”

“Uh, okay. What’s up, then?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about your place on the team. I’m just a little bit concerned that maybe you aren’t as invested as some of the other guys on the team.”

“Invested?” I echoed. It was true, I didn’t give a shit about the swim team, and especially not my teammates. But it wasn’t fair for him to call me out on it. “But I show up to every practice. And I was the only one who placed at the meet.”

“I know that. You’re a great swimmer, Holmes. But you’re not exactly bonding with the team.”

I couldn’t deny that.

“Do I really need to bond with the team?” I asked incredulously. The revulsion in my voice must have been obvious, because he instantly looked offended.

“Building friendships within the team is proven to enhance performance in the pool,” he said, setting his coffee mug down with a loud thump. “A positive team environment builds trust and motivation.”

“If that’s true, then why am I the best on the team?” I countered. He answered me with a long sigh.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you need to put more of an effort into the team if you want to stay on it.”

Was he fucking kidding me? I was spending so much of my time with these fuckers already. My churning stomach clenched. I was trying so hard, giving so much time to this thing that made me miserable. I could have been spending more time with Ren, or my other friends, or studying, or fucking sleeping so I wasn’t wandering around like a zombie all the damn time. And it still wasn’t enough? Adrenaline exploded in my veins, nausea crashing over me from the stress.

It wasn’t my fault I didn’t get along with the fucking bigoted morons on the team. Especially now that O’Conner had taken it upon himself to decide I was a fag and that he didn’t want to share a locker room with me.

“I have to go,” I managed to mumble out, before bolting out of his office. I heard him call my name, but I sprinted down the hall, turning a corner to slip into a bathroom. Waiting it out in a stall, grateful there weren’t any other guys in there, I pressed my palms to my temples, trying to will away a massive incoming headache. When I was sure enough time had passed that he wasn’t looking for me or hadn’t followed me, I slipped back out and headed toward home.

What the fuck was I going to do? I was already giving them as much time as I possibly could, without cutting out the parts of my life that I actually fucking enjoyed, and they still didn’t want me. I was basically poisoning the team with my shitty attitude. What would my dad think about that if he ever found out? That the one thing he’d raised me to be able to do, thrive in a sports team setting, the second I was out of his direct line of sight I was failing miserably at? I’d never been unwanted.

I didn’t want to ruin everything, but the miserable dread that had been building up as the trip inched closer was now magnified to the max. I almost stopped and threw up on the side of the street several times on the walk home. The thought of actually going now was unfathomable, like someone with claustrophobia willingly locking themselves in a tiny box.

When I stumbled into the house, Caelyx glanced up at me briefly from the couch, where he was scrolling on his phone. He greeted me with little interest, before doing a double take at my appearance.

“Jesus, Maddox. Did you contract the fucking plague?” He asked, rolling off the cushions to come up and put his hands on my shoulders.

“Huh?”

“You’re pale as a ghost. And sweaty as all hell,” he added, swiping a finger over my forehead and waving it in front of my eyes. “Were you working out or something? Like, in the driveway?”

“No. I’m, uh… I’m kind of freaking out.” I must have looked really bad for him to even bother worrying. I must have felt really bad to even consider talking to him, of all people, about it.

“Alright, take a seat before you pass out on the carpet,” he said, nudging me over to the couch so I could collapse onto it. “Tell Daddy all about it.”

“I just can’t do it. I can’t.” I didn’t do this whole telling other people my problems thing, but it was like part of my brain was shut down.

“Did Ren knock you up?” He wondered. “You have options now, you know. It’s not like the old days.”

“Shut up.” Fucking moron.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, taking a seat on the floor so we were eye level. “Couldn’t help myself. What’s really going on?”

Sighing deeply, I rolled onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to go on the trip with the swim team.”

“That’s what this is about? Some stupid fucking trip?”

“Yes, this is about some stupid fucking trip,” I snapped at him. “The guys on the team hate me. I hate them. Coach says I need to bond with them. I just can’t force myself to spend a week with people who hate my fucking guts.”

“So don’t go,” he suggested. Like it was that easy.

“I can’t just not go. My parents know the trip takes up the first week of winter break. If I ask my mom to pick me up a week early, it’s going to be pretty obvious I’m not there.”

“Dude. We don’t live in the dorms. We don’t have to go home on breaks. Just hang out here the first week, then have her pick you up like normal. They’re not going to know.”

It sounded stupid, but it only took me a few seconds to realize it wasn’t. There was really no way they could know, unless they looked at the team’s Instagram account and I knew for a fact neither of them had a clue how to work Insta. I wasn’t exactly a rebel, but lying was a welcome alternative to admitting I was completely failing at the one thing they both expected me to excel in.

“I guess hanging out here for a week by myself won’t be so bad,” I admitted.

“Well, you won’t be,” he said. “I’m staying here all break.”

“You’re not going home at all?”

“I’m not sure I’m welcome,” he informed me, but he didn’t sound particularly hurt or upset by that fact. “One semester of good behavior isn’t enough to reduce my sentence.”

“So you’re going to be alone on Christmas?” I felt lame even caring, but I couldn’t help but ask.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be fine.” He sounded amused, but he always sounded kind of amused. His default tone of voice was smug dick.

“You could come hang out at my house over the break, if you want. My mom wouldn’t mind.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, I’m tempted, since I’m fairly sure the last time you brought a guy back home, you ended up fucking him. But I think I’ll pass this time.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, that offer wasn’t really on the table for you.”

“Are you sure?” He asked. “I’ll follow you around like a puppy and tell you how cool you are, since that’s what you seem to like.”

“Screw you.”

“Oh, we’re going to have so much fun this week,” he crowed, pursing his lips to give me a kissy face. “Instead of bonding with your team, you can bond with me.”

“I’ll think about it.”

But the crushing weight of horror had been lifted, at least. It still didn’t solve the problem of Coach thinking I wasn’t invested. In fact, it would only make that particular problem worse. But that was a problem for future Maddox.

Ren was ecstatic when I told him I wasn’t going. It really drove home how worried he was about my mental health, especially when it came to the team. We spent the night together before he left to go home for break. It would only be three weeks, but neither of us wanted to be apart for even three hours, let alone three weeks.

“I’m really going to miss you, Maddy,” he told me, after we’d exhausted ourselves fucking. Tangled together with me in my sheets, he pressed a kiss into the side of my head, lingering there. I’d wanted to say it, but I knew he would say it first and make it easier on me. He always did.

“I’ll miss you, too. But we can text, like, all the time. And we can talk on the phone at night if you want. Facetime, whatever.”

“Okay,” he said, clearly soothed by my suggestions. “It’ll suck, but we can handle it, right?”

“It’s only a couple weeks,” I reminded him. “It’s not like one of us is going away to war or anything.”

He laughed. “Man, I’m really glad we’re not living in those times.”

“Yeah, I’m having a hard time imagining you in a combat setting.” Tripping over his own feet, or nothing, was a pretty common occurrence for him.

“Definitely not the soldier type,” he agreed. “I’ll never be that kind of guy.”

“I like the kind of guy you are,” I said, my stomach fluttering like crazy when I felt his smile in the dark.

“I like the kind of guy you are, too.”

The first morning of break came and passed. Ren left, and it sucked, but we made more promises to talk to each other every day, which took a lot of the sting out.

I knew when everyone on the team would be getting on the bus, and sure enough, Coach’s phone number flashed on my phone. Declining his call, I typed out a simple message and sent it over.

I’m not feeling well, I won’t be attending the trip.

The message showed as delivered, then read. He called me three more times after that, and left a voicemail. Swiping away the voicemail notification without listening to it, I rolled over and went back to sleep.