1 James

So, it was Friday. The best day with the best finish one could ask for.

P.E… I don't know about other countries, but we LOVE our football.

It was kickoff and I was paired with all the shitters. Why? Because I'm so fucking good that's the only way I could possibly lose… aka… my teammates being garbage. It ain't arrogant, egotistical or whatever the word is if it's true, is it? I am better. I am better than everyone here.

'I am the best player on this pitch.'

One of my trashcans started the tip off, passing it to me.

"Pass it back." The trashcan spoke like he was going to do something with it.

I locked eyes with him.

"Go play some defence." I brushed his stupid demand aside and dribbled up.

Shew… shew.

My dribbles were perfect… quick, precise. The goofy goobers in front of me didn't know what the fuck was happening. 

I kicked it right while they looked to the left, running past them with ease.

Then… there was a slight problem. Dennis the Menace stood in the way. He was massive compared to the kids our age. Six foot tall, bulky as fuck and surprisingly fast. He was elite at defence and offence… my only real rival. He played whatever position the team needed him to and it was always a real joy to play alongside him. Except… given that we're the two best, we only really played against each other during P.E class.

"Pass it… pass it!" One of the bins behind me asked again.

'Fuck no.'

The practice pitch we played on was pretty small since it was split in two between two ongoing matches (there were six teams and the winner stays on while the losers would alternate). Still, with Dennis in the way, getting a good shot off was unlikely. I had to get around him.

He rushed straight towards me… never the tactician.

I shot it between his legs and kept running forward.

"Nutmeg!!!" I grinned, speeding past Dennis. "Sucks to suck, Dennis."

"Fuck." Dennis muttered.

Instantly, I saw the frightened faces of the defenders. With Dennis out of the way… have you ever lit paper on fire? My striking was the fire, their defence was that thin sheet of paper. 

The goalkeeper was sweating buckets, not knowing where to go. The defenders ran to me but I danced around every single one of them.

With a light and graceful touch, I kicked it into the right corner when the goalkeeper thought I would go left.

Goal. My tenth today across the day.

And so, we won, all thanks to me. Well, it's not really 'we'. It's just me.

I am just better, aren't I?

"James, you're too bloody selfish." My P.E teacher, John, stated as his eyebrows narrowed into a frown. He always preached teamwork… but that never worked unless the people who I played with were nearly as good as me. "Pass to your teammates."

"I'm a striker… I strike." I shrugged my shoulders. "It worked out pretty well."

John rolled his eyes. "You want to be a professional?"

"... Yes?" I raised an eyebrow. Obviously I wanted to be a professional… that shit was my dream. "Why wouldn't I?"

"It was a rhetorical question, you dolt." John sighed. "Even the be-"

"Rhetorical or metaphorical, what does it have to do with anything?" 

"- If you let me finish. James, even the best strikers in the whole world pass to their teammates. Messi, Ronaldo, Neymar, whoever you look up to. All those forwards pass." John walked towards me before looking over at all the other students. "You might be the best striker in this school but you'd be so, so, much better if you played teamball. You'd be a bloody prodigy… and it's a shame that no matter what, you refuse to do so."

"... Maybe if you didn't give me those shitters to play with, I'd pass to my 'teammates'. What the fuck do you want me to do with Lucas? He can't dribble, he can't shoot, he can't even pass straight. Rokas' fat ass can barely move and he has the reaction time of a bloody snail. David can run but that's about all he can do. Do I need to go further?"

"Wow…" Lucas muttered.

"How many swear words was that, hm?" John stroked his chin. "I'll sum it up with two major concerns for you. For both swearing and disrespecting your fellow students."

"-6? Yeah, whatever. I'm almost negative in total points anyway." 

Yeah, the school had some stupid points system where you get rewarded for following instructions, doing your HW well, going above and beyond, etc, etc… and minus points (known as concerns) for breaking the rules and such. The goody-two-shoes love it.

"AND detention. Thirty minutes."

"Don't we have a match afterschool?" I raised an eyebrow.

"That means you'll be staying even later."

"Ooof." One of the guys stated.

"That's rough but I can't say he didn't deserve it."

"James is wild for that."

"... Thirty minutes? It is what it is." I shrugged. "It ain't much."

"Good, you'll have time to do whatever homework it is that you've been skipping out on. Especially when it'll be an hour next time I see you do that again." John smiled. "Everyone stop what you're doing. Instead of having two matches going at once using half the pitch each, we're going to have a proper match with everyone playing. Make a straight line right here."

It sounded like fun.

"Harry, Dennis, Abdi, Muhammed…-"

Until the fucker put ALL the best players on one team.

All the best… but me.

I'm not even kidding… I got the worst half possible.

"This is a setup."

My eyes widened as I looked over at my team. Lucas, Rokas, David… all the classics with Anthony, Jake and Henry along with all the other shitters. 

Dennis started the kickoff for the other team, playing striker.

He passed it back to Harry who dribbled past our defence like he was a thousand degree knife going through butter. Harry passed it back to Dennis who was pushing past our defence. I stood a bit ahead… as a striker would in the case of a counterattack.

Who was I kidding… this group of misfits was NOT getting the ball back.

BANG.

In it went… Dennis scored.

He and Harry had annihilated my entire defence, one playing physical while the other was setting up plays for the team.

"Play some defence, James!" Henry shouted. "Why are you all the way there?"

"Do I look like a defender?" I moved my head back and frowned, gesturing towards myself. "I'm the STRIKER… that's your job. Move your feet, you damn turtle."

John chuckled. "When will he ever learn…"

Yeah… football was NOT fun today.

Dennis and Harry shit on my entire team, the damned bastards. Even when I got the ball, I could barely do anything with their whole squad closing down any space I could physically have. They built a whole wall to stop me and there was just nothing I could do.

Still, through sheer skill, I got a goal… while they got six.

"That's why Harry is the team captain." 

When I heard that… I got way more pissed off than I should have.

"And that's why you're not even on the real team…" I turned to Lucas, pushing him.

"I'm tired of your shit…" Lucas frowned, stepping forward as he pushed me back. "You think you're all that, huh? Well, Dennis and Harry made you look just as bad as us. You played like shit."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I slowly turned to him, stepping forward with the intent of making him eat his words. 

I grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him closer.

"Cut it out, you idiots." Harry came forward, pushing us away from each other. "Don't start a fight over nothing."

"I don't want to hear it from you, head boy." I scoffed, rolling my eyes before imitating his voice. "Please don't fight… I'm a goody-two-shoes, I don't like fighting. My name is Harry and I like kissing up to everyone." 

"Maybe you'd like to hear it from me, then?" Dennis grabbed my shoulder. "Chill out."

"I'm not scared of you." I pushed away his arm, turning to face him.

"Chill." Dennis repeated himself. "Take in some breaths. It's not that serious."

"Jump off a bridge." I walked past him, joining the line of students walking back to the school. "Fucking cunt."

"Remember when he was cool?" Lucas muttered. "In Year 7, he was fun to play with… I have no idea what happened."

"He's competitive, to the point that it is toxic." Harry added, sighing. "He wants to do nothing more than win and that really shows when he loses."

"Didn't Caroline break up with him?"

"Really? They were together for bloody ages."

~

The match went great… as usual, I was the striker, Dennis was our elite defender and Harry was setting up plays for the rest of the team. I scored a hattrick and we sent the rival school back home in tears. Not literally… but they looked depressed enough. One thing that unsettled me, however. It was the fact that someone in particular wasn't watching me anymore. I didn't feel the drive to show out…

Caroline's ghost still haunted me.

"You're forgetting something, young man." John stopped me in my tracks just as everyone on the team was heading home. "You have thirty minutes worth of detention."

"I played great enough… didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. You're not better than anyone else, James."

"... I clearly am, though. You had to put our entire class against me so that I would lose."

"You still haven't learned?" John sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. I could tell that he was getting a bit tired of my shenanigans. "James, you won't even have enough overall points to go to prom. You're failing all of your classes not named P.E, drama, maths and english. It's not helping that you're making everyone dislike you… fix up, James. You can be better, you've shown it before. Fix up or you'll be going nowhere in life. By that I mean you'll be serving me Mcdonalds in a year's time."

"..." I chuckled. "Mcdonalds? Yeah, right. I'm going to a football academy."

"Not with your attitude. Not even Mcdonalds would want you. I PROMISE you, with that attitude, no one would." John shook his head. "The saddest thing is that you're a bright young man with so much potential. You were the headboy, the team captain, you had perfect grades at the end of Year 9… now? It's just.. Disappointing. I would be hopeful and say that you still have time to change but that time is rapidly running out. Your GCSE's are just two months away. That time flies…"

"..." Something about those words hit different… I felt something. The disappointment struck my very core. "It's just…"

Life's been really shit for me.

My mother died nearly two years ago, my girlfriend dumped me because she's moving out to one of the big schools (though I think she's cheating on me), my 'friends' are all leaving my side… the only joy I have is football. The only hope.

How could I ever admit everything to John? He's a great teacher and he certainly means well… but I just couldn't. I couldn't admit how I felt. I couldn't admit to my weakness… I was James, not some depressed geek.

So, I didn't.

"It's just?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing… I'll just do the detention innit."

So, I spent an extra thirty minutes pretending to read a book (I was really taking a nap). After that, John let me go home albeit with yet another disappointed look. He gave me another pep talk but I just nodded my way through it. I was on my way home.

Though, I went over to Caroline's house first. It was nice and fancy, befitting a more well off family than most. I fixed up my school tie and straightened my school uniform before knocking. It was three, steady-paced knocks. 

Someone peeked through the eye-hole before I was met with a familiar voice.

"Go home, James. I told you we're done."

"Come on… we've been together for well over four years, through thick and thin. We were the perfect couple, happy and bloody brilliant, the goal everyone else aimed for. Some would even say that we were soulmates." I chuckled, leaning my back against the door. "How the hell can distance separate us? There's still so many ways we can connect…"

"You're not the same James I fell in love with." 

Those words hit like a rolling mountain, trampling me beneath it.

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm still… me." I frowned slightly. "I'm still James."

"You've changed… too much. You used to care about your studies, you used to be a role model… you used to be likeable. I don't know what you are now. A wannabe roadman? A 'bad boy'? Maybe other girls find that attractive but… you're just… a burden. I need to focus on my future and you're just bringing me down."

A burden?

Me?

King James?

The most painful part was that… she was right. 

I am selfish, egotistical, arrogant, impatient, wrathful… was there a single good thing about me, personality-wise?

I didn't know.

"I can change… again. I can be that James." I was grabbing at straws. The thing is, I could get any girl I wanted… but I wanted her specifically. She was my world. "For you… I'd do anything."

"It's too late for that. You're not going to sweet talk me… go home."

This second 'go home' was colder than the last one.

"I… alright." I nodded, sighing. I wanted to cuss the shit out of her and smother her in all types of terrible words, to be honest. My blood was boiling like a damn volcano. But… I took a deep breath and relaxed. It was okay. "I hope you succeed in whatever endeavour you partake in."

I walked away.

It was not okay. I was not okay. Nothing was okay.

My world… was dead.

~

I got back home to my drunk dad sleeping half-naked on the floor. 

Yeah… classic.

I have no idea how the fuck he fell asleep with his music turned all the way up. The stereo was almost breaking the fucking walls down. Alas, I turned that shit off and went to my room. I jumped straight into my bed and dropped my bag beneath it. 

"What a day…"

I looked at the pictures across my bed. Old pictures… of when I was happy. My first goal, leaving primary school with medals and trophies, a family vacation to Spain, Sports Day when I got first in all my events, that time I aced all my exams and got a fat allowance from my mom. Just seeing her smile, even in the pictures, made me feel like shit.

Everything went down the drain since she died.

I fell off a cliff… and so did everything else around me.

'What do I have to live for anymore?'

I had no fucking idea, to be honest. I went from the peak of peaks to failing at life… to the point where it felt helpless trying to climb back up. I had sunk too low.

But… giving up was pussy as fuck.

I hated it. I wanted to fight despite the odds and win. That's what I was… that's what I was raised to be. A winner!

I can change… I know I can!

I've done the straight A student shit before, I've been the team captain, I used to be likeable, I used to pass the ball, even… I can rise again.

Surely…

"Ugh."

The more I tried to hype myself up, the more depressed I became.

What... was the point of it all?

I looked down at the silver cross that my mother had gifted me years ago… and prayed.

Even though I called myself a 'Christian', I hardly ever prayed unless I felt like I needed God's support. And, even then, I felt sceptical about his power. Was he even real? Only God knows… like, really. If he existed, only he would fucking know.

That fucker doesn't show any bloody signs.

How can one believe in something they can't see, hear, touch?

'God… show me the path forward. Hit my dad with a thunderbolt or something and make him wisen up. Make sure John gives me some good teammates. Make Caroline come back to me. I'll become your most loyal fucking priest if you do that shit. I'll memorise the Bible and follow it wholeheartedly. Please…'

'Help me find my happiness again.'

I knew my prayers sounded fucking stupid. It was all me, me, me… selfish. If God really existed, why would he give a fuck about me and my demands?

"Your wish has been granted."

'...???'

It wasn't in the way I wanted, I'll tell you that much… but it worked.