Young Writers Society

A/n: I'm a bit worried about the pacing of this chapter, so if you're reviewing this, could I ask you to comment about the pacing? I put in a whole lot of information, and frankly, I think it's a bit rushed. (Ah, but I still hope you think it's a good one :P)

[Chapter 3]

[Useless]

There was never really a time when Colin felt comfortable. There was never a time when Colin ever felt settled, unstressed.

His life was based on his unrest. His existence stemmed from his inability to fit in the puzzle piece correctly. Colin absolutely hated it when people told him to “Relax”. To “Chill out”. It was a lot harder than that. If Colin could get comfortable with just a few words, then he would have done it already.

If Colin could find his inner peace by just having someone telling him to, then he would have done it already.

It was a lot harder than that.

“Is that all you’ll need?” the bored cashier lady says in a deadpan voice that seems more void of emotion than Chris’s.

“Yes, thank you,” Colin smiles, hoping that manners would get her to cheer up. It doesn’t work, but that doesn’t matter. The effort is all that matters. That’s what his mom always tells him. It’s really annoying sometimes, but it's not like he can tell her to stop.

He grabs his bag of chips, but no soda. For Colin, sodas are taboo. Not only are they fizzy and sour, they also deteriorate teeth and cause cavities. Therefore, Colin reasons, there is no good reason to drink it.

"Have a good day,” the cashier says, which Colin feels is ironic, because the cashier’s day seems just about the farthest it gets from ‘good’.

"You, too,” Colin flashes another kind smile, but it goes unnoticed.

Going to the nearest convenience store and grabbing a snack has been one of Colin’s habits for a while. It’s not that he needs a snack, but he likes the feeling of going into a store by himself and purchasing something.

Walking out of the store, he hears familiar voices.

Chris and Jacob!

Colin pulls the hood of his jacket down so that they can’t see his face. He grabs his phone, pretending to text someone. He also moves to a position where there is a pillar between them and him, although it doesn’t completely hide him. Colin thinks guiltily, Why exactly am I eavesdropping?

". . not possible. I already told you, your height is wasted on playing as a guard,” Jacob says.

Chris snaps back, “So you’d rather me play as a forward, then? Currently, the only competent player is Alex. Everyone else is terrible. Spencer doesn’t know how to play, Colin doesn’t seem that great” –Colin frowns, insulted– “and Dwayne has the attention span of a kindergartner.”

"Firstly, Dwayne’s attention span has nothing to do with how well he can play. Secondly, Spencer has potential, so the fact that he currently doesn’t know how to play isn’t a problem. Also, we can’t do anything about Colin. If he can’t play well, it might drag us down, but it’s not a huge problem. You, on the other hand, are pretty competent yourself, making those fancy illegal shots.”

"They’re not illegal! They’re just nearly traveling!” Chris growls.

Colin walks away, uninterested in the rest of their conversation. He’s heard enough.

As he jumps into the car, he can’t help but think of the things that Jacob said.

“We can’t do anything about Colin. If he can’t play well, it might drag us down.”

Colin bites his lip, feeling his eyes moisten.

I wish I wasn’t so bad at basketball, Colin thinks.

But Colin knows he can’t just quit the basketball team. If he does, the rest of the team wouldn’t be able to play, since there are only five, including him. When someone else joins, then I’ll leave.

Were all the things that Jacob said a lie? All the things he said about following his own rules, doing what he thought was right?

"Just because centers are usually tall doesn’t mean that they have to be. Just because small teams are usually weak ones doesn’t mean they have to be. That’s just the norm.”

Colin clenches his fists.

Effort is all that matters?” Colin mutters to himself, “What a load of crap.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, leaning back into his seat.

What’s the point? ‘We can’t do anything about Colin’ anyways.

. . .

"Colin is absent from practice today, but we'll continue to do some conditioning," Jacob says cheerfully.

"Lucky him," growls Chris. The rest of the team starts groaning, beginning to regret coming to practice.

"Don't you dare skip out next practice either. Everyone that came today has no excuse to miss it tomorrow. I dunno what happened to Colin, but since he's not here, it's not our problem," Jacob says in a serious tone.

"Fine," Chris says. Alex observes that Chris seems to be on the verge of basically quitting the basketball team itself.

However, Jacob's grin gets even wider.

"Today, we're doing some real conditioning," Jacob fishes his whistle out of his pockets. He really needs that to be on a necklace or something, thinks Alex.

"So what is it?" Dwayne asks, "Running again?"

Jacob replies, "Yes."

Clearly, Dwayne doesn't realize that running uses legs, because he starts rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.

"I call it suicides," Jacob points to the very end of the basketball court, "You run from the base line to the free throw line, then back to the base line. Then you run to the half-court line, then back. Then, you run to the second free-throw line, then back. Then, you run to the opposite base line, and back."

Spencer raises his hand, as if he's in a classroom.

"Yeah?" Jacob turns around.

Spencer smiles sheepishly and says, "Could you explain all the . . . um . . . lines?"

"Oh, sure," Jacob sighs, slightly irritated, "The base lines are at the two ends of the court. The sidelines are on the side. The half-court line is in the middle, and the free throw line is a short line that players stand behind to shoot free throws."

"Right . . ." Spencer nods, probably more confused than before.

"Just follow where we go," Alex whispers to Spencer. Spencer relaxes and nods a few more times, earning a strange glance from Jacob.

"Now, this drill has nothing to do with self-harm, even though it's called . . . well . . . a suicide," Jacob explains, "But it's gruesome enough to have the intensity of self-harm."

Everyone else groans again, but Alex doesn't. After all, he's done suicides before. Usually, when Alex wasn't playing streetball with some friends after school, he was running suicides. Basketball is all about how physical you can get.

Simply put, the more you run, the better you'll be.

Personal skill has very little to do with it. Good players are often skilled ones, but there are also very strong players that are able to dominate games with their overpowering spirit.

"Alex!" Dwayne shouts from the base line to the right, "Come on!"

"Any day now," Chris says loudly, sneering. Obviously, he's still miffed about Alex's shot during the scrimmage yesterday.

Alex powerwalks over to them, embarrassed.

"Better not zone out like that in a game," Jacob grins. Then, he grabs his whistle ominously.

That grin, however, is the last thing Alex sees before he is launched into eternal pain.

. . .

"Alex?"

Someone's talking to me. What? Why?

He tries to say "What is it?", but it comes out wrong and sounds more like a really sad bullfrog. He repeats, attempting to enunciate the phrase correctly. It's a little bit better, but he can't get the depressed amphibians out of his mouth.

"Alex, class is starting, and I think Mrs. Hinz is glaring at you," Brady whispers from behind Alex, poking him in the back violently. Brady is one of the few people who talk to Alex, but can get very tiresome. Most of the time, Brady pokes and prods Alex when he's sleeping, finding it funny to wake him up. Luckily for Alex, he only shares one class with Brady.

"S-sorry," Alex mumbles, raising his head off his desk, and wiping off the drool that he will not admit was there.

After class, Brady snickers and continues poking a drowsy Alex, who didn't get nearly enough sleep the previous night.

The two of them pass by a sixth grade classroom to see a furious teacher screaming about sleep and why students shouldn't sleep in the classroom.

Brady and Alex start walking a little faster, not particularly interested in getting hearing issues.

"Oh yeah, Brady why don't you join the basketball team?" Alex asks, noticing Brady flinch and pause before answering. In times before, when Alex asked about Basketball, Brady always got defensive. Clearly, it struck a nerve in him, and Alex liked using it as a way to get revenge for the constant poking.

"I- . . . I don't wanna," Brady replies, and then looks up at a clock that doesn't exist, "Shoot, I have to get to my class. See ya, Alex."

Alex nods, grinning.

"Ah, I need to do something real quick, too," Alex says to himself, quickening his pace. The break between classes is only a few minutes long, so he can't waste any time.

Finally, after climbing up a set of stairs, he reaches room 206. Alex always thought that the classroom numbering was very odd. The first floor started at 001, then 002, then 003. However, on the second floor, instead of going to the next number, it went to 101. On the third floor, it went to 201. Obviously, someone made a mistake somewhere.

Most sixth grade classes were on the first and second floors, while the seventh grade classes were on the second and third floors. However, eighth grade had no real distinction and had classes all over the place.

He peeks into the room, and sees a huge classroom filled with students everywhere. Not sure where to find the person he's looking for and how to do it, he turns to the closest person, who is a short-haired girl reading a book with a pleasant smile on her face.

Judging from the smile, she seems to be a nice girl, so Alex asks, "Hey, uh, do you have a Colin in this class?"

She looks up and the pleasant smile from before is replaced with a distasteful frown.

"Yes," she replies, disinterested.

Alex blinks, then adds, "Can I see him?"

"Are you a hitman?" she asks, looking back at her book.

"No," Alex bites back his annoyance. He needs to see Colin.

"Are you a murderer?"

"N-no."

"Are you an assassin?"

"No!"

"Your raised tone of voice indicates the opposite," she replies sarcastically, imitating the monotone voice of a robot.

"You're the one who was asking annoying questions," Alex finds himself so exhausted that he can't even roll his eyes.

"Fine, which one?" she says, flipping a page in her book. To his annoyance, the way she's holding the book, Alex can see neither much of the words, or the cover.

"Which what?"

"Yeah, there are a few Colins in this class," she closes her book, amused. Alex glances at the cover. One Hundred Years of Solitude.

"Uh," Alex pauses, slapping his forehead, "Sorry . . . I forgot his last name."

"I could call all three Colins over here," suggests the girl, leaning back in her seat, clearly finding this conversation hilarious.

Alex turns red, "No, anything but that. Oh, uh, the one I'm looking for plays basketball."

"Oh, him?" she says, raising an eyebrow, "He's pretty nice. Not loud. Doesn't talk much."

"Can I see him?"

"Likes to read, too. Although, he leans a bit on the realistic side of books."

"Can I see him, please?"

As if ignoring him, the girl continues, "He likes to answer questions in class, too. Not a lot of people do that."

"Can I see him?" Alex hisses. He slams both hands on her desk as if to prove his point.

Unimpressed, she shouts, "Colin R! There's an assassin with really bad bed hair who wants to look at you."

At this, a few of the students in the class turn around, curious, but after seeing the girl, they return to their conversations.

Colin walks over, and Alex is already more exhausted than he was after yesterday's suicides.

He takes one look at Alex, and one look at the girl, and sighs, "Come on, let's go out in the hallway."

"Alright."

After they exit the room, Colin apologizes, "Sorry about Hannah. She's kind of . . . off."

"Understatement of the century," Alex crosses his arms, glad that Colin doesn't see him as the 'Assassin with Bed Hair that Wants to Look at Me.'

"She does that to everyone who enters the room every single day," Colin explains, "We kind of got used to it. Oh, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Alex nods, "I was wondering why you didn't show up to basketball practice yesterday."

Colin flinches, strikingly similar to the times when Brady was asked about basketball.

"N-no reason?" Colin replies, almost like he's asking a question.

"Really?" Alex inquires with suspicion. He leans in closer to Colin's face, and Colin backs up in surprise.

Colin crosses his arms, "I . . . I didn't think you guys . . . well, needed me."

"Of course we do!" Alex shouts, loudly enough for a few people in the hallway to give them strange glances. Even Hannah pokes her head into the hallway to see what's going on.

"Colin, you're good at basketball," Alex says, "You can't just give up on it. You're faster and more skilled than most everyone on this team."

"Most everyone?" Colin smiles darkly, "I'm guessing that doesn't include you, I bet?"

"What?" Alex replies, confused.

"You have it so good," Colin bites his lip, "You're actually athletic. You're really tall, fast, and strong. You lead the basketball team. You can even make Chris shut up. Everything you do is perfect! And now the amazingly awesome Alex comes over to drag back his hapless teammate!"

"Take that back!" Alex growls, "No one's perfect! I can't be perfect either. Just because one person in your life is better than you, it doesn't mean you can just give up entirely! That's just selfish and lazy! If you can't accept your strengths and weaknesses, then I'll find someone else who can."

Colin is silent. Alex pauses, too.

"Also, I get really bad grades," Alex says, patting Colin's shoulder.

Alex is about to turn around and go to class, but Colin suddenly bursts into tears. He smiles, embracing Colin, completely ignoring the strange looks everyone is giving them.

It's alright, Colin. You're amazing just the way you are.

. . .

Even after two weeks, the suicides are still so tiring. And, no matter how many times Jacob explains it, the name of the drill always gives Colin a red flag.

"Colin! Pick up the pace!" Jacob shouts, as Colin starts dragging behind.

"Sorry!" Colin shouts back. Colin finds it funny that he got basketball shoes. Even though he's running around on a basketball court, none of the team members ever really touch the ball. Jacob really means business. The occasional comments about Jacob's lack of funniness doesn't help, either.

Fweeeeeeet! goes Jacob's whistle, and everyone stops. Colin notices that recently, they've stopped collapsing on the ground after the suicides. Maybe we're getting stronger.

"Alright boys," Jacob says in a conspiratorial tone, "I've got a plan for you guys."

Dwayne perks up, "What is it?"

"We're planning on winning every single tournament game we come across, so we're going to have to up our intensity," Jacob says, "Most teams have a pretty lax beginning to their practices, but I've been conditioning you guys for a really long time, meaning it's probably time to play some practice games."

"Yes!" Dwayne shrieks. The rest of the team gets pretty excited, too.

"Who's it against?" Alex asks cautiously.

"Well, since most teams are still relaxing right now, the only teams we can play practice games against are hardcore powerhouses," explains Jacob, "So since I'm assuming that you guys won't want to play against Forton Middle, the biggest powerhouse in the league, we're gonna play against a little bit of a weaker team. Pennel Creek."

Alex narrows his eyes, "I guess it was inevitable."

"What was inevitable?" Spencer asks curiously.

"Pennel Creek is the reason our basketball team is like this. Our previous coach retired, and most of our players quit. Their reasons were all valid, but I suspect the reason was because of Marble Creek getting crushed in the first round of the tournament against Pennel Creek," Alex says.

"Why didn't you quit?" Chris wonders.

"Didn't wanna," Alex shrugs. Colin chuckles, thinking, He's got such a desire to play basketball that it's basically part of him.

"What was the score?" Jacob asks, curious. The entire team looks at Alex expectantly.

"9-0"