I dragged my feet across the grassy field toward the metal bleachers. Every single muscle in my lower body felt like it had been tenderized by a meat mallet. The so-called 'beautiful game' of football was currently the ugliest thing in my entire existence.
Alex, who had been sitting patiently on the bottom row reading her massive hardcover book for half an hour, finally closed it with a solid thud. She stood up, carefully packing the heavy textbook into her blue backpack, and looked down at me from the first step.
"Well," Alex said, a highly amused, knowing smirk playing on her lips. "You certainly had an interesting march out there on the field, Luke. I've never seen someone trip over a ball standing perfectly still before."
I let out a breath that sounded more like a dying wheeze, wiping the last traces of salty sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. "Yes. Very interesting. So interesting, in fact, that my entire body is currently screaming at me to go to sleep immediately, and possibly never wake up."
Alex chuckled softly, pushing her thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. She pointed her finger toward the school's drop-off parking lot. "Hmm... well, you're in luck. I called Mom earlier when you started doing those penalty laps, and yes, there she is."
I followed her gaze. Sitting in the drop-off lane, idling with the radio playing softly, was the familiar, glorious sanctuary of the silver Dunphy minivan.
We both started the slow, agonizing walk toward the car. Normally, I would have paced myself, walking with a relaxed, lazy stride, but right now, every step sent a jolt of soreness shooting up my calves. I finally reached the sliding door, pulled it open with a heavy grunt, and practically collapsed into the middle row of seats, slumping down tiredly against the fabric like a sack of potatoes.
Claire, who had been anxiously tapping her manicured fingers on the steering wheel, turned around to check on us. Her eyes immediately widened in absolute alarm when she saw my pale, exhausted face, the sheer amount of water soaking my blond hair, and the way I was breathing like I had just run a marathon.
"Oh, Luke!" Claire gasped, her maternal panic instantly activating. Her mind, as always, immediately jumped to the most dramatic, worst-case sitcom conclusions.
"Did something happen to you? Did you get bullied? Did you get rejected by a girl and now you're moping? Did you eat something weird out of the cafeteria garbage again and get food poisoning?!"
She leaned over the center console, her eyes narrowed in deep suspicion, scanning me for visible injuries. "Or did another kid beat you up? Tell me right now! Do you even plan to continue this sports activity, or was this a one-day disaster?"
I let my head roll back against the soft headrest, staring blankly at the beige roof of the minivan.
"Yes, Mom, I'm continuing," I replied lazily, my voice completely devoid of any energy. "It's just starting. I wouldn't quit on the first day. The coach just made us run. I just joined it for a time pass anyway. A little hobby to keep me busy."
Claire's panicked, stressed expression instantly melted away, replaced by a beaming, incredibly relieved smile. The idea of her middle, most chaotic child voluntarily participating in a structured, school-sanctioned athletic program—and actually wanting to continue it—was like a dream come true for her.
"Oh! Well then, congratulations for actually doing something productive, honey!" Claire laughed, putting the minivan into drive and pulling out of the parking lot with renewed vigor. "I am so proud of you! Your dad is going to be thrilled. We might have to go to the mall this weekend and buy you some proper athletic things!"
As the car rolled smoothly down the sun-drenched suburban streets of California, the last bits of adrenaline completely left my system, leaving only the dull, heavy ache of my muscles.
Alex, sitting securely buckled beside me, crossed her arms and looked at me out of the corner of her eye.
"I have to admit," Alex started, her tone a mix of genuine surprise and her usual biting sass, "I fully expected you to fake an ankle injury after the first five minutes of the passing drill. You were slipping around out there like a baby penguin on a freshly waxed floor."
I didn't even have the energy to open my eyes. "I told you, Alex. It's a new era. A new me. I have persistence now. I was simply testing the gravity of the pitch to ensure it was suitable for my future legendary plays."
Alex immediately scoffed, looking out the window, though a faint, amused smile tugged at her lips. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm just stating objective, observational facts. Your physical stamina is at a tragic three out of ten. But... your stubbornness is at a solid eight. The other guys were clearly mocking you in the locker room, but at least you finished the running laps."
I peeked one eye open, giving her a lazy, side-long glance. "Are you actually giving me a compliment, little sis?"
"I am stating facts," she corrected quickly, her cheeks dusting with a faint pink. "Don't let it go to your head. You still smell like a wet dog."
"I'll take it," I hummed, letting my eye slide shut again as the gentle rocking of the car lulled my tired brain.
The rest of the drive passed in relative peace, filled only by the sound of the radio playing pop music and Claire occasionally yelling at a slow driver in front of us.