A Little More Than Xs And Os

Even football players cry

Quiet. That's how my week at school is. People around me couldn't be louder and yet my mind is muted. My throat is dry from not speaking to anyone.

"What's up?" Trevor knocks me out of my faze-- something he's really good at-- as he sets down his tray at the lunch table. LeAnna sets hers down right after.

"We noticed you haven't been talking in a while and just wanted to see if you were okay." I clench my fists. I just want to be alone. Why can't they leave me alone?

I get up from our table, then sit back down when something clicks with me. "What school is Peyton going to?" LeAnna sits up straighter. "Rowan University." When I nod, she adds on, "You want her room number too?" She laughs as she says it but I just stare. "Uh...do you really want to know?" she asks hesitantly. I blink and walk away. I've done my talking for the week.

"What a freak."

"I heard he's the bad boy again."

"He's just upset Peyton's not around."

Just when I start to plug my ears and run down the hall, a familiar voice speaks to me.

"Adam. We need to talk." Colleen. "Why haven't you responded to my messages? Or talked to me? Tell me what's going on. Ever since the football game you've acted different."

Like I said, I've done my talking for the week. But things will probably get worse with Colleen if I ignore her.

"I'm just tired."

"Are you still in A.P? Adam, you need to get out of those classes."

I sigh, aggravated with her, "Football's over, I can handle it now. Besides, you can't tell me what to do."

She bites her bottom lip, clearly holding back her temper. "I'm just trying to tell you what's best--"

"Well I know that if I don't take these classes I will fail. So it is for the best." I walk away.

She calls after me. "Adam why don't we just break up already?" I turn around and just stare at her. "I think that's for the best." My voice comes out raspy but I turn and walk away.

Again, I'm a free man. Yay?

******

I don't usually play my drum set at home. The next morning, Thursday, I wake up at 5 A.M not being able to sleep anymore. A few lazy steps down to the basement, and I pick up my drum sticks. I realize now that all my "friends" from the football team didn't know about my hobby. And playing the guitar is even more of a secret.

Why do I hold all this back from people? It's a talent that I shouldn't hide even if they don't ask.

Suddenly, I stop playing when someone calls my name. "Adam! What are you doing playing drums at 5 A.M?!" To my surprise, it's Kelsey. She comes running down the steps. She looks at me in horror.

"A-Adam.... What is going on?" She sounds terrified. She comes over to me gently and guides me to the full body mirror that's slightly broken and old. Ignoring that fact, all I see is a tormented-looking teenage boy with bags under my eyes and a mad look to every facial feature.

Kelsey stands behind me, trying not to make eye contact. "I've had enough. Adam, this is not you. You are smart and athletic and cool but now you're trying to be all of that at once. And it's tearing you apart!"

I grab my hair and yell, "It's not tearing me apart! Peyton is!" I slap my forehead when I say it out loud and keep my hand over my eyes when I lay down on the small couch. She puts her hand on my shoulder. I'm not going to cry; I'm too mad.