Amson, 18, "Spark of Motivation"

"It wasn't so bad, Amson." Tora assured me over the phone. "I think, if you'd kept kicking, we would've won."

Sitting at my desk, I held my phone to my ear, on call with Tora, something she'd suddenly decided to do since she started coming back to school. It was strange hearing her voice as if normal from the other end of the line, but it was a bit welcoming, making me feel accompanied and not trapped with myself.

Though it'd only been a few days, I started looking forward to our talks, out-of-the-blue as they were. She wasn't nearly as noisy as she was at school, her soothing, relaxed tone vibrating every inch of my being as we spoke, but I knew it wouldn't last. Come next morning, she would be back to her typical, obnoxious self, the self that I still have yet to reaccustom myself to.

Still, it beat doing homework alone.

After the day I'd had, I was hardly in the mood to talk. Ever since that kickball game, my head'd been killing me, and hearing that voice wouldn't mend the tearing, pulsing pain within my head. For some reason, I couldn't decline the call, but being on the line for a while, I realized it'd turned into more of a motivational lecture rather than a friendly conversation with an underlying theme of systematic, institutional, logistical servitude.

"That sentiment's nice and all, but be real with me, Tora." I said, tapping my pen against the untainted, printed homework sheet. "I was never going to get another shot like that one."

I could hear the sass from the other end, a strange change of pace.

"You're right." She remarked, frank as all hell. "With that kind of attitude, you never would've."

"Don't be like that." I said.

"If I can't, then who's going to do it for me?" She sighed. "If you constantly have the mindset that you're gonna fail, you might as well fail. Half of doing is mindset, Am."

"I'm hardly athletic, either, Tora. You know this."

"Sure, but it's never too late to whip yourself into shape." She paused for a moment, returning with a eureka of a mood swap. "In fact, I could help train you myself! That would be so fun!"

The only thing I could do was laugh at the idea. It was so outlandish; I couldn't quite help it. She spoke as I calmed myself down, getting a bit too much of a kick from it.

"The hell's so funny, Amson?" She pouted.

"I-It's just..." I took a breath, bringing myself back to calm. "No way."

"What do you mean, 'no way?!'" I could hear her starting to get agitated. "With us working together, maybe even with Baun's help, you'd be unstoppable in any sport. Besides, Baun says you're stronger than you let on."

I stopped myself, ushering silence on both ends of the call. Tora waited patiently for my response, and with the dramatic pause, I returned, my voice surprised and almost as if I'd been caught in an act.

"Baun..." I uttered. "He told you that?"

"Yep!" She reiterated. "He told me that you're much stronger than you let even yourself believe."

"He's smoking." I couldn't help but laugh at my own joke.

"That's not funny! I'm being serious, man!" She shuffled on the other end, distorting the sound for a moment. "You never listen to a word I say!"

"I'm sorry; I know." I assured her, trying to calm her. "It was just too perfect to pass up on."

She sighed, annoyed.

"Then what do you say we do it, train so you can join some of the fall sports before the season starts?"

I took a moment to think, rather than allow myself to tell her, "No", flat-out. Much as I wanted to, I wasn't without a bit of reflection upon myself. It was true that I would likely benefit from the motivation, but seeing as I've made it this far without putting any effort whatsoever, it was hard forcing myself to think outside of that comfort zone.

I knew that surrendering myself to that ease would be the opposite of what I wanted to do. I wanted to change myself, become a better man. I couldn't do that by doing the same thing I've been doing. Maybe, the change of pace would set me straight and, if not straight, on the right path.

"Let's deal on this." I said, leaning back in my chair. "I'll TRY to keep myself from bailing on the matches, and if I don't keep my promise, even once, I'll train with you and/or Baun. Deal?"

She hesitated, but eventually, her answer rang through the phone.

"Deal."

///

I dangled my feet over the edge of my bed as morning light shone through my white curtains, bathing me in beautiful sunlight, yet in my mind, I felt estranged, my wild thoughts failing to catch up with me despite how hard I strained.

On my feet were those loafers, the mysterious loafers that I'd gotten days ago yet never worn. Why had I never worn them? They fit so comfortably on my feet, snug as a bug, and no matter how my toes moved, they were absorbed by the cotton like a weightless cloud between the prancing tendrils of my feet.

Yet, what bothered me the most wasn't their comfort but the fact that I still hadn't necessarily put them on.

I mean, sure, you could make the argument that I've worn them the night of the party and-- well, right now, but I hadn't physically put them on my feet. They were just there, as if calling me to wear them. Perhaps, by some crazy, crackhead logic, I'd put them on in my sleep or, better yet, happened to land into them by some work of miracle...

The more and more I tried to justify it, the more terrified I became having them on my feet like they were.

I pried them off my feet, but as I pushed, they felt like fucking loaded barbells. It took most of my strength to relieve my feet from their weight, but eventually, they flew off, easing that vibe forcefully. I looked at them as they lie on the ground, no marks like I would've imagined something so heavy to make, but as my eyes locked onto them, they became distorted, filling my mind with nonsense.

My vision went blurry and my body weak as the shoe seemed to be calling my name in that demonic yet enticing voice. I tried to stand, but as soon as I thought my feet'd found solid ground, they fell from beneath me, granting me a pristine spot on the floor beside my bed.