Misfits (#2)

55.

Everest.

I fucking hate school. I've always hated classes and studying so I caused trouble, instead of being bored. College classes are fucking boring. Especially because none of the guys are in any of my classes, asides from communications.

I slip my phone into my pocket, lugging my backpack onto my shoulders as I walk across campus. I just got off the phone with Violet. She started classes a couple weeks ago and she's been enjoying it, as much as she can.

She sounds okay. I can't be certain, not when I can't see her but she sounds better than she was. We're on the phone to each other like 75% of our day. It eases some of the hurt, but it's been weeks now. Every single day, I miss her more.

Every single fucking day.

And every day that passes, it feels like I get angrier at the most stupid shit. Sometimes I can't stand being around Luca and Ria together. It makes me angry that me and Vy are forced apart, when everyone else can keep going. It's not their fault. They've been through their own version of hell. They deserve their happy ending.

I run a hand through my hair, ignoring the looks from a group of girls sat on some benches. I get to the lecture hall for communications, spotting Ria and Hudson at the back. I take the seat besides them, dropping my bag and snatching the cig Hudson's secretly lit. I lower down to take the drag.

"Are they meeting us on 16th street?" I blow it out. I might have to start chugging caffeine. A nicotine and caffeine addiction is better than going back to drinking, and the urge is there.

"Val's in journalism, Luca's got econ. They'll meet us there." Ria, as mentioned, nurses a cup of coffee that she sips. We're all full of bad habits, huh?

There's a sandwich truck on 16th street that we've made our spot, a couple benches besides it. When we're all out of classes, we meet up there.

"I've got practice after." I put out the cigarette against the edge of the desk.

"Your coach still a dick?" Hud asks.

"I was three minutes late and he called me a nonsensical moron." I mutter, looking to the teacher rambling at the front, "He's as big of a dick as they come. I've never seen a face so slappable in my life."

Ria snorts, "You're in for fun."

"I might shoot myself." I say, meaning it.

Coach fucking Nolan is going to be the death of me. I've been used to teachers taking one glance at me, labelling me trouble and hating me. But Coaches usually soften up once seeing my play on the field. Nolan hates me even when he knows I'm good. I outplay half of the fucking freshman there.

College soccer's a major time commitment. Or at least, that's what he screams at me. I know that. I know about the early practices and the late training sessions. I know what it'll take if I want to go far; I'm willing to put the work in. He doesn't see that in me.

If I want to play in the major fall season next year, or anytime soon, I need to keep my head on straight. If I'm striving to play for a D1 team, I need to be the best. The NCAA only want the fucking best.

I cannot have a coach that hates me. Instead of how much I miss Vy, how fucked up everything is, I want to focus on soccer.

"Is there still no sign of Aster?" I ask.

Hudson shakes his head, "His family's fucked off to Canada for a while. They've taken month-long holidays before, and they have cousins there. I don't know when they'll be back."

Fuck. We can wait for him, or we can find another way. But any other way concerning Dean is too risky. If he thinks we're fucking around, he might make a move. That move means public humiliation for Violet. I can't hurt her anymore.