Date: January 4, 1990 (Thursday).
Location: Highland Park High School / The Country Club.
Event: The Day After.
**08:15 AM. The Student Lounge.**
This wasn't a cafeteria. It was a lounge. There were vending machines that sold sparkling water.
**Preston** (Senior Captain/TE) sat with his feet up on the table. He wasn't stealing bagels or shouting. He was just... comfortable. He wore boat shoes without socks and a Polo shirt that looked expensive enough to pay my old mortgage.
**Braden** (Senior QB) was nursing a coffee, looking tired.
"My back is killing me," Preston said, sounding bored. "Who makes you run Mat Drills in January? We're supposed to be in 'Maintenance Phase'."
"The hick is trying to prove a point," Braden said, rubbing his shoulder. "He wants to show us he's tough."
"He's temporary," Preston said, turning a page in his magazine. "My dad says Remington hired him as a stop-gap. He'll be gone by next season if he doesn't calm down."
Braden paused. He looked at his hand, remembering the spiral I threw yesterday.
"His kid is good, Pres," Braden admitted quietly. "Like... really good."
Preston didn't look up.
"He's a try-hard," Preston yawned. "Give it a week. Once he realizes nobody cares about 'Medford Grit' here, he'll burn out. We run this school, Braden. Not the staff. Remember that."
A Sophomore walked by. He didn't offer food. He just nodded at Preston with a mix of respect and fear. Preston didn't even nod back.
***
**10:00 AM. The Computer Lab.**
Sheldon Cooper did not get nervous. He got territorial.
He walked into the Highland Park Computer Science Lab. There were twenty glowing terminals. IBM PS/2s.
He sat at a terminal and pulled out his floppy disk.
"You're using a 3.5-inch floppy?" a voice asked. Not sneering. Just confused.
Sheldon turned. Sitting next to him was a boy wearing a perfectly pressed shirt. **Brent**.
"It is a standard storage medium," Sheldon said defensively.
"It's antiquated," Brent said, tapping his keyboard. "My dad bought the school a dedicated server. We upload directly to the mainframe. I'm currently running a fractal generation program."
Sheldon narrowed his eyes.
"Fractals are derivative geometry," Sheldon said. "I am working on string theory."
"Cool," Brent said, completely unimpressed. "Let me know when you learn C++. I can lend you a manual if you can't afford one."
Brent turned back to his screen.
Sheldon sat there, clutching his floppy disk. He hadn't been bullied. He hadn't been mocked. He had been **pitied**.
And that was infinitely worse.
***
**12:30 PM. The Country Club.**
Mary Cooper was not a member of the Dallas Country Club. But as the Head Coach's wife, she was invited to the "Ladies' Luncheon."
**Cynthia** (Preston's mother) sipped her iced tea. She looked like a shark in a visor.
"We are just so happy to have George here," Cynthia said, her smile tight. "Although, the boys came home exhausted yesterday. Preston said the conditioning was... excessive."
"Well," Mary smiled politely, smoothing her napkin. "George believes in fitness. Can't win if you can't breathe."
"Of course," Cynthia said. "But these boys have tutors. Piano lessons. Social obligations. We prefer a more... balanced approach. It's an extracurricular, Mary. Not a job."
The other women nodded. They weren't being mean. They were just stating a fact of their world. Football was a hobby for their sons, not a lifeline.
Mary felt the temperature in the room drop.
She wanted to snap. She wanted to use her 'Church Lady' voice.
But she looked at their pearls. Their manicures. Their united front.
"I'll pass that along to George," Mary said quietly.
She took a sip of water. It tasted bitter.
She hadn't won the table. She had just survived it.
***
**02:00 PM. Highland Park Middle School.**
Missy Cooper stood by the lockers. She was wearing her denim jacket.
"Is it true your brother drives a truck?" a girl named **Courtney** asked. She was holding a Gucci purse.
"Yeah," Missy said. "A Ford."
"My brother drives a BMW," Courtney said. "Trucks are for gardeners."
Missy stiffened. She looked at Courtney's bag. She thought about a comeback. She thought about punching her.
But she looked around the hallway. Every girl had a designer bag. Every boy had expensive shoes.
"It's a nice truck," Missy said, her voice a little smaller than usual.
Courtney just shrugged and walked away.
Missy stood there alone. The "Sassy Cooper" routine didn't work if nobody was listening.
***
**03:45 PM. The Practice Field.**
The revolt started quietly.
It was "Ups-and-Downs."
George Sr. blew the whistle. Everyone sprinted 40 yards.
But they weren't sprinting. They were jogging.
**Preston** was leading the pack, running at maybe 70% speed. He was talking to the guy next to him. Laughing.
I was at the front, running full speed. I finished five yards ahead.
I turned around.
The seniors were jogging in a slow, casual line. They weren't defying the coach openly. They were **sandbagging**.
They were showing George that they would move at their own pace.
George blew the whistle. *Tweet.*
"Do it again," George said. "Full speed."
Preston smiled. A polite, toxic smile.
"That was full speed, Coach. We're tired."
He looked at the other seniors. They smirked.
It was a test.
They were daring him to explode. They were daring the "hick" to lose his cool so they could call their dads.
George looked at Preston. He looked at me, breathing hard at the front of the line.
He didn't yell.
He looked at his stopwatch.
"Okay," George said softly. "If that's your best, we have a lot of work to do."
He stared at Preston.
The air on the field got heavy.
This wasn't practice anymore.
It was a siege.
**[Quest Update: The Takeover]**
* **Social Status:** Isolated.
* **Mary Status:** Stonewalled.
* **Sheldon Status:** Outgunned.
* **Team Status:** Passive Resistance.