My Bench Boy (On Hold)

003 - I don't want to

Chapter 3: I don't want to.

Colton Peters

I had no friends here at Primal and I was okay with that. It was a choice I made when I got in here. I was nothing like them. With their raised shoulders, shiny hair, and full pocket. Sure I raised my shoulder too and I always tried to wash my hair at least twice a week so it's neat but I didn't have a full pocket and that alone was enough to make us all from completely different worlds.

I watched tinted sleek cars bring them to school and take them home, I watched them buy the most expensive food in the cafeteria, I heard them talk their thick accent and confidence and the more I felt alone. I wasn't one of them whether I attended their or not. Some of them were friendly guys, really nice and when it was necessary to mingle, we got along well. I knew they knew I wasn't part of them and it didn't seem to matter for many. I would have loved to loosen myself up, bring down my walls and be like most teenagers with best friends and clique but I couldn't and my walls went up even higher when I first got in.

Things are not always what they seemed, I learned, so it's better to be on your own. It's lonely yes, but you get by without trouble. I believe I have enough drama in my life already, I can't afford to add highschool drama on top it all for something that's totally not worth.

A locker banging close brought me out my thoughts and I closed mine too, walking out the locker room and into the field with the other guys. They ran up to the coach and I took my position on the bench. Some people found it pathetic but I find it funny. I never play but I'm on the team. Sometimes I join in practice but other times coach doesn't bother with me at all. I'm just here to complete the numbers I guess. It's amusing because they can't kick me out without reason, and I don't do much but I get to add sport to my college application.

It's not my fault I don't play. I actually admire the sport and that's why I'm here but I just lack the talent I guess. Thankfully I'm not completely useless anyway. I would say I'm exactly like Dylan O'Brien's character in the movie series Teen Wolf.

As I watch them line up and start practicing, I get up to join but I have this prickly feeling on my neck that I'm being watched. I run my hands through my hair, turning my neck around searching for the suspecting eyes. I didn't expect it but once again I made eye contact with the transfer boy. I narrow my eyes at him, wondering for the umpteenth time what exactly his deal was. He was sitting on the lowest part or the bleachers with whom I suppose is his new friend, Alex Saxby. Everybody knew Alex, including. I considered him the friendliest of them all.

The transfer guy, I couldn't care what his name was, stood at a height close to 6 feet, two inches. He was really tall with a mop of raven black hair and mischievous brown eyes. He had muscles and a built that made him look way older than his age. His features were sharp and so masculine and if you looked past his dumb eyes, you might actually find him sinfully handsome. Even with the dumb eyes, I couldn't lie that he looked bad. He knew that and that's what made him more annoying.

Now I don't understand why he's everywhere I go. On my seat and now on the field. Not to judge but I know boys like him, they are the kind that break boys like me.

With my eyes still on him, I twisted my lips and pulled my helmet on, gave him one last look before jogging over to join the line.

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"Water?"

"Thank you," I said like second nature, taking the bottle water before looking up at the bearer. I mentally shake my head, looking away and opening up the water.