On the sidelines was the last place his attention should have been, but he couldn’t help it. His girlfriend, Leanne, was standing there talking with her friend. Her bleached blonde hair was blowing in the angry wind. She had chosen to wear her light blue, puffy jacket, one that always made her look like a marshmallow. Her spindly legs were covered in leggings, making her look absurd with a huge top half and tiny bottom half.

The football went shooting past Darron’s face, the air whooshing loudly in his ear, and he rushed after the ball. A whistle blew loudly from behind him, and then his coach’s frantic screaming followed.

“Pay attention!” Coach Grimsby shouted. “Pay attention! Do you realize we have a game in less than a week? Do you?”

Coach shook his head and stormed toward Darron. He’d managed to pick up the ball and was holding it tightly in his hand.

“Get your head out of your ass!”

“Yes, Coach.” Darron said, wanting nothing more than to throw the ball at the back of Coach’s head.

He was known for being a hard-ass, always busting balls and making grown men cry with his words. Darron didn’t want to know what it looked like when Coach was drunk and fighting, but he knew it wouldn’t be pretty. If the rumors were true, Coach was even nastier when drunk and looking for something to hit.

Darron shook it off, gently jogging over to the sidelines where a foldaway table stood, covered in water bottles. The rest of his team were out in the field, practicing. Darron just needed a moment alone, a quick swig of water and a chance to breathe and he’d be right again.

“Darron!” A voice called out.

He knew the voice well. He turned to see his girlfriend rushing toward him, her pointed shoes digging into the pitch. Darron grabbed her by the waist and lifted her off the pitch.

“Hey!” She squealed. “What are you doing?”

Darron pointed to her footprints. “Damaging the pitch.”

“Oh,” she frowned. “Well, I came over to ask you for that money back.”

“Money?”

“The money you borrowed off me last week?” Leanne asked sweetly. “I gave you fifty dollars. I said I needed it back for today. You said no problem.” She paused. “You remember, right?”

“Sure,” Darron said quietly. “I don’t have it, though.”

Leanne’s face turned thunderous. “How do you not have it?”

“I don’t,” Darron shrugged. “I’m sorry but I can’t give you something I don’t have.”

“Why not?” Leanne shrieked. “I told you I needed this money today!”

“Keep your voice down,” Darron muttered angrily, leaning toward her. “I said I don’t have it. I’m sorry.”

“Then why borrow it?” Leanne asked. “If you knew you wouldn’t have it for me in time, why borrow it from me in the first place?”

Darron clenched his teeth. “Because you have plenty of money already, just go ask your parents to pay for it, I’m sure as shit they will. I needed that money to buy new shoes, okay? I’ll pay you back when I can. Get off my back.”

Stephen, a slimy little leech that Darron tried to ignore as much as possible, slithered over to them. His slicked back black hair looked greasy rather than cool and his acne-ridden skin oozed grease and oil. Darron tried not to throw up just looking at him.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Stephen said. “How about I cover for Darron and give you your fifty bucks?”

Darron could only roll his eyes. It was painfully obvious what Stephen wanted—the space between Leanne’s legs.

“Really?” Leanne squealed. “Oh, thank you!”

She threw her arms around Stephen’s neck, hugging him tightly, and Darron could only sigh and roll his eyes again. Stephen probably thought he was hurting Darron, but he wasn’t. There was no problem with girls in this school. If Leanne left him for Stephen, he could have a new girlfriend within a half hour. That was no issue. If anything, it would hurt Leanne more than him. What would her prissy, socialite friends think of her when she turns up to their parties with the guy that secretes grease?

Darron couldn’t suppress his laughter at the thought.

“What?” Leanne snapped. “Something funny?”

Darron put his tongue to the inside of his cheek, trying to stop himself from laughing, as he shook his head.

“Come on,” Stephen said, grabbing hold of Leanne’s arm. “Let’s leave this loser to his own devices.”

Leanne frowned. “That’s not very nice…”

Darron drowned out their bickering. He just didn’t care. Not about their words or even them as people. They were nothing to him, completely meaningless. His eyes gazed across the field as Leanne and Stephen continued to drone on about money, power, and politics. There were lots of people out today, despite the awful, cloudy, drizzly weather. Groups of girls sat on the bleachers, watching him and waving to him, and groups of boys were watching the training. Most of them were hoping to get onto the team next year. They were psyching out the players, seeing who was the weakest link that needed to be replaced. The competition was fierce with college football, and sometimes Darron wondered how he even made the team.

Across the field, away from the bleachers and groups of eagle-eyed boys, was a small group of men. They weren’t boys, not like this lot around him, but they were men. Real men, fully-grown, muscled, and tall. Darron couldn’t see their faces, but he could tell by the way they were walking that they were important. They weren’t swaggering, that silly little walk boys do when trying to look cool—they held themselves with an authoritative air. Darron put his water bottle down on the table and jogged onto the other side of the field, pretending to get back into the drills. Really, he wanted a closer look at these men.

Halfway to them, his heart skipped a beat inside his chest. One of the faces stuck out to him. It was a face he’d never forget. His childhood friend, Arik, home at last. His deep brown eyes were full of emotion and feeling, looking forlornly around the pitch. His dark wavy hair was blowing in the wind, making him look majestic like a lion.

How long has it been? Darron wondered. Nine, maybe ten years? He could remember the day when Arik stopped coming to school. As soon as Darron got home, he called his friend, but there was no answer. Weeks later people started gossiping about him, saying that he’d run away from home. About two months later, Darron had seen one of Arik’s dads in town. He looked… lost. Like a father missing his boy.

Darron watched as Arik walked across the field, his friends surrounding him, and he wondered if, finally, he’d come home for good. The idea excited Darron. Butterflies erupted in his stomach and his skin felt like electricity. What if Arik remembered him? What if Arik wanted to be in his life again? Would it be like when they were kids? Spending every waking moment together, laughing at each other’s jokes and relishing in each other’s stories and memories?

Darron felt his groin give a sharp tug. The feeling worried him. He hadn’t felt that familiar tug since before puberty, since Arik was last here. He looked over his shoulder, back at his girlfriend talking to the grease trap, before looking back to Arik. He was almost out of sight now, heading for the campus buildings, and Darron didn’t want to lose sight of him. He wandered off the pitch, looking at the back of Arik’s head longingly.

“Darron!” Coach screamed. “Darron Moore!”

Arik turned at the shout of Darron’s name. His eyes drifted through the crowd of people, before settling on Darron. Their eyes met and sparks lit inside Darron’s stomach. He’s looking at me, Darron thought. He’s…

Then Arik looked away, disappearing into the building.

“Darron!” Coach screamed. “Get back to drilling! Now!”

There was nothing else he could do. If he stepped away from the pitch now, Coach would kill him. He hung his head and returned to drilling, but his heart wasn’t in it. All he could think about was his friend, the mysterious boy who disappeared in the night.