Scramble
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 2
I finished my last set of shoulder pulls, barely keeping the weights from slamming back into place before collapsing back onto the bench. The weight room was packed, which I hadn’t expected since no sports were going on right now except for basketball, and those guys didn’t tend to come in for afternoon sessions and seemed to think conditioning class was good enough.
Maybe everyone was trying to redeem themselves after slacking off over the holiday. I’d like to think I was doing good, since I’d worked out hard all through break, but Tyrell and Andre had asked me to work out with them and this was a different workout.
How those two became friendly, I had no idea, but they were also two of the biggest guys in the school and both looked like they’d barely broken a sweat despite doing almost double the weight I was doing.
“Time for bench,” Andre announced. “Unless you need a nap first.”
I pushed myself up, only a little wobbly. “I’m good. Just pacing myself. Don’t want to show you two up too much.”
“No, no. Show us up. You’re gonna be the big team leader next year, it’s time you showed everyone who the big dog is,” Tyrell said, leading the way to the bench press.
Me and my stupid mouth.
Andre settled onto the bench first, while Tyrell loaded plates onto the bar. I watched as they piled on weight that would probably crush my ribcage if I attempted it.
“Two-ninety good?” Tyrell asked Andre.
“Make it an even three,” Andre replied, positioning himself under the bar.
I shook my head. “You guys are ridiculous.”
Tyrell spotted Andre as he powered through his set, making three hundred pounds look like nothing. And I loved it. I loved everything about the weight room. I loved the smell of old rubber mats and sweat. I loved the random music, rap today, someone was playing on a small stereo sitting in the corner. And I loved the camaraderie.
This was my happy place.
When Andre finished, he sat up and pointed at me. “Your turn, skinny.”
“Let me take some of those plates off first,” I said, stepping forward to remove weight from the bar.
Tyrell crossed his arms over his chest. “So weak. Can’t believe they picked you to be the new team captain.”
“They picked me ‘cause I’m smart enough not to crush my chest trying to have a pissing contest with two meatheads,” I replied, continuing to strip plates until I had it at a more reasonable weight. “Not all of us are built like refrigerators.”
I got down on the bench and slid into place, positioning my arms.
Tyrell moved behind the bench to spot me. “You ready for this massive weight, Blake? Don’t strain yourself.”
“Just count.”
The weight felt heavy as I lowered it to my chest, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I was going for reps, not trying to see how much I could lift. Form and repetition was the name of the game. I pushed it back up with a controlled exhale.
“One,” Tyrell counted. “Only nineteen more to go. Try not to cry.”
“You know,” I grunted, as I lowered the bar. “Some of us actually have to run during games.”
“What, you think linemen don’t run? I’m all over that field.”
“For all of three seconds,” I countered, completing another rep. “Then you stand around watching me do all the work.”
“Three,” Tyrell counted. “All the work? You mean dropping back five steps and throwing the ball? Meanwhile, I’m keeping three-hundred-pound defensive ends from turning you into a pancake.”
“Four,” I grunted, pushing the bar up again. “And I appreciate that service, believe me.”
“Did you see what Terry did to that QB from Irving last season? Folded him like laundry.”
“Yeah, it was brutal. Five,” Tyrell said. “Come on, Blake. My grandmother lifts faster than this.”
“I’ve seen your grandmother. I believe it.”
They both laughed at that, which I counted as a small victory despite my straining arms.
“Six. Keep it up, string bean.”
I managed all twenty reps, though the last few were ugly as hell. When I finally racked the bar, my arms felt like overcooked spaghetti.
“Okay, move aside and let the men work,” Andre said, positioning himself on the bench while Tyrell added more plates.
“You guys are freaks,” I said before taking a long drink. “You know that, right?”
“We’re just built different,” Andre said.
“That’s what I was saying.”
As Tyrell spotted Andre through his set, I took a moment to catch my breath. In my dream life, I’d never paid much attention to my teammates in the weight room. I’d been too focused on myself. Now, I could appreciate just how hard these guys worked, especially the linemen.
He was just about finished when Coach Greer walked into the weight room and started looking around. His eyes landed on me and he waved me over.
“Sims, come out here. I want to talk to you for a minute.”
Both Tyrell and Andre made ‘ooohhh’ sounds like we were five and I was in trouble, but I waved them off.
I followed the coach out of the weight room and into the hall, pretty sure I knew where this was going. He had promised not to give up on getting me on the track team. In spite of what I’d told Eduardo on Sunday, I still wasn’t sure I actually wanted to do track. We hadn’t talked about it yet, but seven-on-seven was starting and Coach Holloway had come through with the list of QB coaches, so I’d hopefully have that to take up my time soon.
I didn’t want to let Eduardo down, but I really wasn’t sure I wanted to do this.
“How’s it going in there?” he asked.
“Good. Building up for next season.”
“So, remember our conversation from last semester? About track?”
“I remember.”
“Tryouts are next week. Just wanted to remind you that the offer still stands.”
“Are you sure I’m the right fit for this? I might be fast for football, but that’s not the same as fast enough for track. I don’t want to join something just to lose.”
“First of all, you’re fast enough. You might not be the fastest on the team, but in the few months we worked together, you went from being around the speed of my slowest guy to somewhere in the middle. So you don’t have to worry on that end. But that’s also not the main reason I want you.”
“It’s not?”
“No, not really. I mean, I think you can win races for us, but beyond that, our team needs some leadership. We’ve had bad morale for a few years. We’ve got some talent, but no cohesion to keep the guys focused and going in the right direction. You did great things with the JV team last semester and a lot of the guys, even juniors and seniors, looked up to you. The track team needs that.”
I honestly wasn’t expecting that. Track always seemed more of an individual sport to me, since everyone was competing in different events. But if Coach said it was important, then it probably was.
And I’d promised Eduardo.
“I’m not sure how I’d do that, but you’re in luck. I actually am considering trying out.”
“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Well, I guess that’s good then.”
“Yeah. I have a friend who’s interested. He really wants to join one of the school teams and thinks he’d be a good fit for track.”
“Well, bring your friend to tryouts and we’ll give him a look.”
“I will. It’s really important to my friend to join track. It’s why I’m considering it now. Without him, I really feel like my focus would still be on the seven-on-seven tournament.”
The message may not have been subtle, but to get the point across I also added emphasis to important and considering. I could tell he got it by the way his brow furrowed when I said it.
“What, exactly, are you saying?”
I didn’t say anything, just gave him a look. He gave it back. I didn’t look away or back down.
“Sims?” he pressed.
“I’m just saying my friend really wants to join.”
“Really? Because it sounds a little like your joining the team is dependent on if your friend gets on the team.”
“I’m not saying that and wouldn’t dream of strong-arming you, Coach. But you just know how important it is for the team to have a leader, and I think part of that is for the leader to have people they trust around them.”
Coach Greer didn’t respond immediately. He studied me for several long seconds, his expression unreadable. I waited, not breaking eye contact.
He surprised me when he laughed. “That’s some pretty good bullshit.”
I grinned, not denying it.
“But,” he continued, “if I have to take on someone else to get that kind of bullshit on my side, it might be worth it. Bring your friend to tryouts. As long as he isn’t on crutches, we can probably find a place for him.”
“Nice doing business with you, Coach,” I said, grinning.
That made him laugh again, louder this time. “Get out of here and back in there before I change my mind.”
I laughed and headed back into the weight room. That worked out better than I’d hoped.
Wednesday was a busy morning, and the rest of the day was looking to get busier. I hadn’t seen Melanie yet that morning, and we didn’t have any classes together until sixth period, but I was hoping to talk to her before lunch. I’d staked out her locker after first period, but she never came by it, and my second period class was damn near the other side of school.
Thankfully, I saw her at her locker when I turned the corner. She had her hair up in a high ponytail today, with those little wisps around her face that I knew took her forever to get just right. I had to admit, she looked good.
“Hey,” I said, leaning against the locker next to hers.
“Hey yourself. What’s up?”
“Did you hear about Melissa Jenkins?”
“That she’s moving, you mean?”
“Yeah. With her leaving, it opens up a spot on student council, and Li is going to go out for it.”
“Really?” she said. “Why would she want to do that?”
“Because she wants to be in student government, especially when she’s a senior. We went by and talked to Mrs. Harrington and got her added to the list. Elections are next Wednesday, so there’s a lot to do. I’m trying to help her put together a campaign to get votes.”
“And you’re telling me this because...?” she said, shutting her locker with a metallic clang.
“Because I think we need your help. There isn’t a lot of time to get this done, and we need everyone to help to get her elected. According to Mrs. Harrington, Brandy and a friend of Melissa’s from debate have already signed up. I’m not sure about the debate girl, but Brandy’s going to be tough. She has a lot of friends, which is where you come in. You and Brandy have a lot of overlap in the people y’all know, so you could counteract her.”
I could see her thinking about it. I know she’d had that moment of jealousy with Li a month ago, but I’d been making sure to spend more time with her and show her she was important to me, and we hadn’t had any more issues since then, so I thought she was just going to say sure.
Instead, she asked, “What if I wanted to run for it myself?”
“What?”
“I might want to be on student council; ever think about that?”
“No, mostly because you called it, and I quote, a club for resume-padding teacher’s pets. Unless you’ve very recently changed your mind on that, it didn’t seem like something you’d want to do.”
“I didn’t say I changed my mind, I just asked what if I wanted to run.”
“So you still think it’s stupid, but you’d want to do it?”
“I didn’t say that either,” she said, crossing her arms. “I’m just wondering why you expect me to help someone else win, or why you think I’d help Li over Brandy. We are both on cheer and have more in common.”
“What are you even talking about? You hate her. She tried to keep you off varsity, remember?”
“Yeah, well ... Okay, fine, I hate her. But that doesn’t explain why you’re so invested in Li’s campaign.”
“Because she’s my friend, and because you’d be doing it for me.”
“I just don’t see why you care if she gets it.”
“Because helping your friends is the right thing to do. Are you saying no? If so, that’s fine, although I can’t figure out why you’re so against this.”
“And I can’t figure out why you two spend so much time together, and why you wouldn’t check to see if I wanted to do it first.”
“Jesus Christ. We’re not doing this again, Mel. I already told you there’s nothing going on there. If you’d shown any interest in this, then I’d support you instead. Just like I’d supported you and helped when you said you wanted to make varsity.”
“This is different.”
“No, it’s not! It’s exactly the same. I’m helping Eduardo with track tryouts for the same reason, because friends help friends. That’s it. It’s not about what I get out of it. It’s just what you do for people you care about.”
“Look, I could use your help. You’re smart, you’re good at getting people to do what you need them to do, and, let’s be honest, you have the ear of pretty much every popular freshman in this school. Your influence could make this happen more than I ever could.”
Melanie tilted her head, considering what I said. It bothered me a bit that the only thing that got through to her was stroking her ego.
“What’s in it for me?” she asked finally.
“Melanie,” I said, putting emphasis on her name.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll help. What do you need me to do.”
“Talk to people, girls on the team, kids in your classes, whatever, and convince them to vote for her. I don’t think I need to tell you how to convince people to do anything.”
She looked at me a minute, and I could see she was deciding if she was going to do it or not.
“Fine. Whatever,” she said finally, before giving me a peck on the cheek and heading to class.
Considering past history, I hadn’t expected a rousing endorsement or anything, but that was more underwhelming than even my limited expectations.
Dad was waiting outside in his cruiser when I got out of school. I think most everyone knew my dad was a cop, but he was still getting a lot of looks, kids wondering why a patrol car was in front of the school. Especially one from another city.
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