I don't even consider going back to school. Instead, I head for home, feeling like there isn't anywhere else I can go that won’t somehow make all of this worse.

Somehow, either by an innate sixth sense I'll never understand, or because the universe really is out to make my life as difficult as possible, both of my parents are sitting in the living room as soon as I step through the front door. My dad doesn't seem remotely concerned that I'm home before I'm supposed to be, but my mom's eyes narrow at once both suspicious and concerned.

"What are you doing here?" I ask Mom before either of my parents can say anything at all.

"It has been a slow day so, I came home for lunch. Now the bigger question…"

My shoulders slump at the unspoken question and preparing to be told I have to head back to school. "I'm just having a really crappy day."

Instead of sending me away, my mom motions toward the couch. "Why don’t you sit for a few minutes?. Tell us about it."

That is literally the last thing I want to do, other than go back to school. It looks like I either have to choose one or the other, so I drop my bag on the floor and sit down.

Both my parents sit silently, waiting for me to speak first. My mom is dressed in flowing floral pants and a black blouse, while my dad looks far less formal in his jeans and old band T-shirt. He'll tell us that's a writer's uniform every chance he gets.

I already feel like whatever I say next isn't going to matter so I sit silently, maybe a little defiantly. My parents know what happened, why do I need to explain any of this?

Eventually, my dad starts talking so I don't have to. "Reece, honey, we're just worried about you. I know this year hasn’t gone like you've expected it to so far, but you aren't acting like yourself. We just want to make sure everything is okay."

I feel my eyebrows furrow together as I study my dad, trying to figure out if he’s serious. "Of course I haven't been myself. It's been a crazy two weeks, what were you expecting?"

"There's no need to get defensive.” Mom steps in. "It's just that you get so intense sometimes, this whole soccer thing was no different. We're so proud of you for what you did, but at some point you need to step back and take care of yourself."

"Well, the soccer things over now. I don't even get to play, so I'll have lots of me time if that's what you want."

My mom shakes her head. "That's not what we want. Or it is. I don't know. We're just concerned, and we want to know if there's anything we can do to help? Take the rest of the day off if you need to. Just make sure to step back a little. Remember who you were before all of this."

"Yeah, great. Whatever.”

"Reece..." my mom calls after me as I'm already headed away from them. "Don't forget to breathe."

I don't bother replying. I'm breathing just fine. It's everything else that isn't working the way it's supposed to.

I find Molly in the backyard, halfheartedly throwing the ball around for her until I hear my sisters come home. While it doesn't exactly make me feel better the way she will chase after that stupid tennis ball again and again like it's the most important thing in the world, it does manage to take me away from myself. At least for a little while.

After only a few weeks, Molly's already starting to look like a different dog as her legs get longer and her snout lengthens. Her ears and her feet are still both too big for her body and she seems clumsy more than ever before. She wasn't exactly graceful to begin with.

As I listen to my sisters clump up the stairs talking to one another, it's the dog that I envy. She doesn’t have to worry about anything at all. No one expects anything from Molly, other than playing and sleeping. She'll never know the first thing about real responsibility or disappointment. At least, not if I have anything to say about it.

The next couple of days pass a lot like the last, mostly with me avoiding anyone or anything that might make me want to talk about soccer, volunteering or school or guys. I wish I could just escape into another world like Reagan does through books or video games. I can't focus on any of it. Even picking up a comic book she's left on the kitchen table and trying to read it just for something to do, I know right away that it's never going to give me the same thrill that kicking a ball across the field does. Or helping Kendra save an animal's life.

The one thing I do manage to properly do, is text Kendra a proper apology while I'm sitting in class on Thursday afternoon. I don't ask for my job back. I’m really hoping she'll just offer it to me anyway. I do apologize for letting her down and for being so flaky for the past few weeks. I say I understand her decision, even if I'm not sure I do, telling her again how grateful I am that she gave me a chance when I was still new in town.

I try to tell myself that it was good now that I have a dog of my own, but as much as I love Molly, I'm not sure the experience is quite the same. My preference is still to have both–my own dog and volunteering.

I stare at my phone for the rest of the class. She never responds. It’s possible she's just busy. Or maybe she really doesn't care what I have to say.

It's too late, the damage is done.

I blow off my final classes of the day and head outside to enjoy what might be the last truly warm day of the year. This time, I'm smart enough not to go home before the end of the official school day. I still ignore the concerned glances from my sisters who by the time we meet to walk home together, they’re well aware that I didn't go to all of my classes, even if they won't say anything to our parents.

Reilly heads upstairs once we're home, so I go in the opposite direction and lock myself into our room, glad for a little bit of time where I don't have to be surrounded by people.

I’m exhausted, but I still can’t seem to slee. So for the first time in a couple of days, I actually make an effort to catch up on the texts I've missed. After only a few different messages from teammates or friends who’re all angry, crushed, or a mixture of both, I turn my phone off all over again.

What can I say to them that will change anything at all?

When I go downstairs for dinner that night, I can feel both of my parents watching me more than usual. Occasionally they’ll share a glance that I can’t quite read, but they don't say anything to me, or as far as I know, to each other. Whatever they’re thinking… I don’t care.

A week later, I find Coach Wasserman completely by accident, while I'm killing time in the library of all places during third period when I’m supposed to be in class. I went yesterday, double checking that there wasn’t anything crucial for me today.

I've tucked myself into one of the study nooks in the corner of the room, hunching over one of my textbooks whilst trying to get caught up on a week's worth of reading. My eyes are skimming over the pages more often than not.

"Reece." the coach says with surprise as she walks by and notices me. From the looks of it, she's here with one of her classes. I wonder what subject she teaches. I always kind of assumed she was a gym teacher.

I start to try to come up with an excuse about what I'm doing there, before realizing that my former coach wouldn't know what my schedule was. For all she knows, I'm here in my lunch, studying like someone who actually cares about how her grades look by the end of the semester.

I give a her a tight smile, "How are you?" I ask. There had been a point not so long ago, that I thought I'd see this woman several times a week as she took control of my athletic future. Now, I was mostly just surprised to see her.

"I have to admit..." the coach says, "...it's a little weird to see you inside the building sitting still for a change."

I shrug. "I guess that's my life now. A lot more sitting still."

For a moment, it looks like the coach will leave it at that and go back to the students she's supposed to be watching. As quickly as she turns away, she turns back. "You do know that while they can take away our team, no one can stop you from playing soccer? I understand better than anyone what a blow this is, but people like you and me, were not meant for sitting still. There's always another way."

For the quickest of moments, I think that maybe she means I should keep fighting, that there really is another way to fix all of this. But, I already know that I'm reading too much into it. She's just trying to give me a pep talk even though she no longer has to.

Since she's the one that's opened this can of worms, I just have to ask… "So, what happened? Why was it them and not us? Who thought it was fair to give one team the okay but not the other?"

Coach Wasserman's jaw clenches, it looks like there is so much she's dying to say. I know that look all too well, it's the ‘you're too young to hear about this’ expression teamed with the ‘I'm really not supposed to say anything’ look.

“It was a complicated process.” The tiny spark of anger seems to glimmer in coach Wasserman's eyes. I can see it even though she's not even looking at me anymore. Instead, she’s staring off in the distance, as though looking on at someone she'd really like to punch in the face. "These budget cuts came down so suddenly. Maybe even ten years ago the decision would've been to cut all of the arts and keep the sports, but, we couldn't do that. Instead..." the coach seems to measure her words, "...the decision was made based on what would be most beneficial to the largest number of students."

Her eyes dart back to me. There's something she's trying to will me to understand, but I'm just not getting it.

Now I I'm angry all over again, feeling helpless all over again.

"I did everything I could for you girls."

"I know. We did to. I really did think we were going to have an amazing year. We had an awesome group."

"Me too."

The coach goes back to supervising several groups of students who seem to be working on group projects. I go back to not actually reading my textbook, turning over everything I just heard. They attempted to divide the budget in a way that would be beneficial to the biggest number of students? That seems simple enough, but there has to be more to it than that. Or maybe, I just want there to be more to it than that.

Maybe I just want there to be more.

I close my textbook and slip out of the library when I know Coach Wasserman is too occupied to notice me.

After lunch and with only a little prodding, I manage to get myself to my final class of the day, actually paying attention for at least half of the period.

As we all file out of the classroom, Jamie approaches me coming out of the room across the hall. Her hair is up in a bun that looks far more polished than how she usually does her hair. Even her outfit is cuter than I’m used to. I guess this is what she’s doing with her free time now.

“Hey.” she says as she joins me, leaning against a set of lockers beside the classroom I just came out of.

Instead of answering, I lean my head against Jamie’s shoulder, staying there for a few minutes as we watch everyone pass by.

“Are you okay?” She asks, only once the flow of students has begun to quiet. The hallway is nearly empty now, leaving only a few others nearby at their lockers or talking with friends.

Jamie and I have talked a little over the past few weeks, but neither of us or anyone else affected by the dissolution of their teams, has really been themselves since the decision. There hasn’t been a single party. The few times I have ended up hanging out with my friends, we’ve ended up sitting around in someone’s basement rehashing everything again and again.

What I’d give to go back to summer vacation.

In answer to Jamie’s question, I give a non-committal grunt. I’m not sure I’m okay, but after talking to Coach Wasserman today, I’m feeling a little less… something. We’ll see.

The two of us leave together, planning to go to our own lockers before maybe going to see who else is still around on school property. As soon as we pass the very first classroom on our right, three bodies crash into us, coming from inside the class.

“Hey!” Jamie snaps as her phone tumbles to the floor, thankfully hitting the ground by way of a padded corner.

In the chaos of everyone untangling themselves from each other and letting out a few carefully chosen curse words, it takes me a second to realize that Noah is one of the guys that just bumped into us. He, Joel and Tom are all half-heartedly apologizing, but, also kind of laughing at the situation. They're clearly in a much better mood than my own.

Noah looks up at me, his smile falls away just a little. Feeling a little guilty, I force myself to smile at him not like before, but more friendly than I’d been letting myself be with anyone. Him mouth twitches up a little in response.

“So, you girls have some free time now.” Joel says so loudly, that I suspect everyone left in the hallway can here him. My new-found smile disappears immediately.

“Dude!’ Tom mutters while Noah tosses his head back in what I hope is frustration. “Don’t.”

“Maybe you girls...” something about how he says the word girls has my back up at once, “...can do us a solid and take over some of our fundraising perk duties. You know, since you have all that time.”

Actually surprised, I take a step back from the guys automatically. I hadn’t even thought about the fundraising perks we’d committed to since the big decision was announced. I guess someone, somewhere was smart enough to realize there was no way they could ask us to help out with those things anymore.

Clearly, Joel is not quite that bright.

“Excuse me?” I say, eyebrows raising slowly. One fist clenches at my side while the other tightens around my phone. “Why the hell would we do that!?”

“Oh come on, Donovan. It’ll be good for you, keep you in shape for next season. Though you probably want to throw in a few practices as well, since clearly the faculty didn’t think you guys could cut it this year.”

My head cocks to the side as I try to figure out what it is Joel is trying to say. Is he just being a dick for the sake of it? Probably.

Noah places his hand on Joel’s shoulder and pulls him back a little. “Not now. We’ve got to get going.”

Joel gives me one more look, clearly enjoying something he sees in my expression. “Yeah. Good point. Practice. You know how it is, Donovan? Oh right, you really don’t.” Joel cackles like he’s just said the funniest thing in the world. No one else even responds.

I let Jamie lead me away, purposefully heading in the opposite direction of where the guys are going—toward the back of the school and the soccer field.

Okay, so maybe I’m not actually feeling better after all.