There is a crack on the wall of the McKinley High School gym. Not in the gym proper, but in the small equipment closet, where bags of footballs and basketballs and bins of field hockey sticks all cower in the corners as they surround tumbling mats, pompoms, and perhaps prophetically, one solitary loose cannon whose presence nobody dares question. It spans about four feet wide and has the shape of a knowing smile - not a kind smile, like your grandmother's when she bakes cookies or Mr. Shue's after arranging another Journey medley - no, this is more of a toothy maniacal grin, a smile that you do not want to be on the receiving end of. It is a smile that says little, but knows too much. In short, it looks like Coach Sylvester's smile.
"First you call me Beiste while we're making out, and then you drag me into the gym... if I didn't know you better I might read something into this" Mike joked as Tina led him past the bleachers before the third period bell.
"Eeew, gross!" Tina blanched and scrunched up her nose. "I just thought we could spend some quality time together before I die of boredom in social studies. I saw Miss Holliday dressed up as a hippy this morning, I don't even wanna know what that's for."
"Maybe that's just what she looks like when she's not in costume," Mike laughed, allowing Tina to drag him further into the gym. He felt a sense of unease creep up on him as he realized where she was taking him - the equipment closet - and he wondered where that had come from. Something about the small space, maybe? He'd never been particularly claustrophobic, though. He shook it off.
"Hey Tina, I just remembered I've got a math quiz today - I really can't be late." And with that, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and bolted in the opposite direction.
One year earlier...
Triiiiiiii... Coach Tanaka's whistle trilled to signal the end of practice.
"...Great work today boys... blah blah blah ...hustle... blah ...game on Friday..."
Sweaty and out of breath, Mike could barely focus on Coach Tanaka's end of practice pep-talk. Fortunately, he usually liked to keep these brief.
"...Chang, Rutherford, you're on cone duty..."
Mike's head snapped up at the sound of his own name. Cone duty? Oh, right. Somebody had to go collect the little plastic orange cones that were scattered across the field after drills. It would take a few minutes, but his dad was on shift at the E.R. tonight and his mom wouldn't care if he was a few minutes late, so he didn't really mind.
Mike and Matt quickly gathered the cones and reconvened outside the gym.
"Hey Mike, you mind giving me a ride home? My mom was gonna pick me up but she's gotta run some errands and stuff."
"Sure, no problem." Mike made to lift up the mesh bag of cones, but Matt beat him to it.
"Hey, I got this. I'll meet you back out here in five." Matt said, and headed off towards the equipment closet before Mike could protest. Mike shrugged and went to grab his things from the locker room.
When Mike returned, there was no sign of Matt, so he whipped out his phone to contemplate texting this girl Tina who he kind of liked from Glee club, before thinking better of it. Some minutes passed, and Mike began to tap his foot impatiently as he proceeded to check his e-mail, update his Twitter feed, and compose and delete about five more messages to Tina.
What's taking him so long? Mike wondered.
After a few more minutes, Mike pocketed his cell phone, slung his backpack back over his shoulder, and began to make his way towards his car, wondering who or what he'd been waiting for.
