Oh my gosh. This story is almost-officially a month old and — *does quick calculations* — almost 1/5 of the way complete! Meaning, there are like four months of this left before the big conclusion! Man do I love this scheduling thing. This'll be my biggest story ever, and completed the fastest out of my big stories! This makes me so happy! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own the original Ed, Edd n' Eddy characters. I only own my interpretation and usage of this plot, and whatever miscellaneous characters I may add. This story will also include scenes not suitable for children or bigots. You have been fairly warned.
Please enjoy!
It's Complicated
9/46
When Kevin went to the Nurse's Office that day, he could barely contain his excitement. It was just past 7am that morning — the morning of the Peach Creek High Homecoming event. It was the day that he had been both working towards and stressed about ever since around one month prior to that time, when he had gotten the injury at his place of work.
The past three or more weeks had been difficult for him; having the sling on his right arm, his primary arm, significantly handicapped him in what he could or could not do. He had to use his iPad to write all the notes down for his classes, and he was rather bad at typing when it was just his left hand. He had been unable to practice much in football; while his other teammates were running drills, he had been either benched or at the gym in the school's athletics center, working on his legs since his arm was no good. Taking a shower, getting dressed, and other miniscule things had become a chore; walking his Pit Bulls, especially, had him worrying more than usual, since he could not rely on his second arm to help keep his girls in line. Then there was also the fact that his funds had decreased quite an amount not being able to work much due to his injury; the most he had been able to do was take inventory of car parts with his phone, and some inspections, with the pay being lower than his usual repair job. Finally, getting to and from school came with its own difficulty since he was unable to drive his motorcycle; while he was glad to have his friend Nazz drive him, every now and then, her schedule would make him either wait for her for long hours, or be forced to take the bus home, instead.
Yes, these past few weeks had been anything but pleasant for him. However, he felt that it would all be worth it if it meant that, after being a good boy and following all the proper procedures to accommodate his injured shoulder into his life, and keep it healing, he would finally be able to get it removed that very day.
"You're here early." Nurse Flo said to him. She was smoking a cigarette with the window open, again, and had yet to put on her white coat — her nursing uniform — over her clothes. This let Kevin see the old-school t-shirt she was wearing, with skinny jeans and Converse sneakers. She killed the cigarette and took out some gum from her back pocket. "Although," she said in the midst of chewing, "I suppose that can only be expected."
"I wanna get this thing off already." He said. He went to sit on the middle bed in the room; it had become his usual place whenever he went in there those past few weeks for check-ups, and found it unoccupied.
"Oh come on. It couldn't have been that bad." Nurse Flo said as she grabbed her white coat from inside a long, vertical wardrobe in the room, and began to put it on, on her way over to him.
"Says you. I could barely practice for the past three weeks with this thing on. It was like… Leg Day every day. What good are fast feet if my hand-eye coordination is off?" He said. Nurse Flo looked at him with a raised black eyebrow, and an odd form to her lips.
"Leg Day?" She asked. "What the hell is that?"
"It's when you work-out in the gym and do upper body exercise one day, and then leg-strengthening exercises the other day, to balance things out. That way you don't look ridiculous with one part overdone." He explained.
"Ah." She said. "These kids and their strange new terms nowadays…" She was finally in front of him, and he could feel himself inhale and hold a breath — and even have to fight back looking away — as she went to stretch his collar and pull it enough to allow a view of his right shoulder. He did, however, automatically lean in as he found that when she did not wear her heels, nurse Flo did not have enough height to look at his shoulder with no issues.
His eyes landed on his shoulder. The angry red mark that had been haunting him for weeks, was almost gone. The swelling had reduced immensely and it almost looked as though the red mark was just a flushed spot on his body from blushing or a fever or something — not a shoulder injury, he thought. In his opinion, his shoulder looked good — good enough to let him play in the game.
"Hmm…" He heard nurse Flo hum.
"What?" He asked. It was difficult for him to hide the nervousness in his voice. He was, after all, putting all his hopes into the sling being removed and his being able to play in the football game that evening. It was his last high school Homecoming, one of his most important games before college, and he could not not play; as with that would arise a whole set of issues and missed opportunities that he simply did not want to deal with.
Nurse Flo did not answer him immediately, nor directly. Rather, after a few minutes of staring at and feeling his shoulder, she said to him, "I'm going to remove the sling. We'll do the same mobility exercises as usual." He nodded.
Nurse Flo removed the sling from his body, and then asked him to stand. Once he did, she asked him to raise his right arm horizontally. He did. She asked him to make small circle rotations that formed into big circle rotations with his arm. He did. Her eyes watched him like a hawk as she asked him to do some more mobility and stretching exercises with his arm and shoulder. During them, she also asked him the same questions as usual.
"How is the pain?"
"Barely there. I can hardly feel it."
"Is there friction when you move your joints?"
"Not at all."
"Does it feel comfortable?"
"Yes."
"Would you be able to do some pushups for me?"
He positioned himself on a horizontal slant on the ground, and did ten pushups for her. After them, she asked, "Did that hurt?"
"No."
"Was it hard or easy to do them?"
"Pretty easy. They're just pushups, after all."
When he rose once again to his feet, he noticed nurse Flo's mouth start to move in that wobbly way that meant she was thinking something over in her mind. Usually, it was always in regards to a tough call — meaning, that there was a 50/50 chance that he may or may not be able to finally take off the sling, and play in the football game that evening. He bit the bottom of his lip in anticipation.
Finally, nurse Flo sighed and gave him a lazy look. "Honestly… it's good enough to let you play today. I'll probably be seeing you — and several other of your teammates — tomorrow morning for another round of medical care after the game, but… Yeah. You can take it off and play. There's no denying that."
"Are… are you serious?" He was feeling the same level of shock that he had on the first day he went to the Nurse's Office, and nurse Flo joked about him needing an amputation. Except, this time, his shock was from a pleasant surprise; happiness; good news. It was from hearing that all the extra effort he put in those past three weeks to not mess his shoulder up any more, and to make sure that he wore the sling when necessary, had paid off. Finally.
"I don't recall being in the mood for jokes." Nurse Flo said. "It's too early for that, after all, and someone interrupted my smoke."
Kevin grinned. A wide, toothy grin that stressed out the skin and muscles on his face and almost, almost, registered as creepy for how wide and full of emotion it was. Nurse Flo cringed when she saw it, and was ready to comment on it, until the expression changed to accommodate Kevin's moving lips as he said, "Hell yeah!" In response, nurse Flo rolled her eyes at him.
"Yes, yes." She said, rather unenthusiastically. "Congratulations. But like I was saying, that game will probably mess it up even more. I hate to say it, but you're still in the red zone even if I'm letting you take off the sling. Things aren't fully healed yet — they're at just enough. Understand?"
"I get it, I get it." Kevin said. "I'll be sure to double-check the padding for my shoulders, then. And I'll try not to get hit. I swear it." He knew that what nurse Flo was saying, was true. He knew that she was cutting him a break because he was so eager to play in the game. He knew this, and that was why he would try his hardest in the game that day, to both take his team to victory and get as minimal damage as possible on his shoulder. He did not want that sling back on him so soon, after all — no matter how eager he was to finally get on the football field and play.
"Mmm. I'm gonna trust you." Nurse Flo said, as she went over to her desk and pulled out from the drawer a pack of cigarettes. "Just don't fuck this up."
.
.
Like all game day mornings, the football team was given special permission to not attend their classes from 8am to 12:30pm (lunch), for practice. Game days, especially Homecoming games, were huge in Peach Creek for the simple reason that it brought the whole community out together in support of the team. It was a "village" activity, as many people had taken to calling it; meaning that it involved effort not just from the team players, but also many of those outside of the team. For that reason, not only was the football team missing from their classes, but also were some members of school clubs and associations involved in the execution of the Homecoming game. This involved student government, the cheerleaders, the school band, and so on. However, it was the football team that lasted so many consecutive hours out of class.
Kevin was happy to finally be able to run drills and plays with his teammates. While he had been able to study the patterns the coach spelled out for them, not being able to learn it through muscle memory made it quite hard for him to understand and get comfortable with what it was that he needed to do. So he was very much grateful for the long practice.
It turned out that for the game, the coach and his assistant had come-up with formations based on who had the best upper body strength, and lower body strength and stamina. It was his idea that if a fast runner caught the ball a strong thrower, threw, then they could connect large gaps in between their players, and scatter and leave the other team struggling to connect the lines, themselves. They were focusing on illusion and confusion, and Kevin could feel his insides start to buzz with excitement at the changes.
The coach had taken into account how much leg strengthening he had been forced to do during the time the sling was on him, and put him down as one of his key runners. Suddenly, he was grateful for Leg Day having been every day.
.
.
After practice was over, he showered in the locker rooms and then headed to his locker in the high school, to get his books for the next classes. Practice had been great in that type of fulfilling way that came from not caving into the effects of intense workouts, and he found himself unable to stop the small smile on his face as he thought about how he could improve his technique in the few hours between then and the Homecoming game. He found the extra thought and effort into coming up with theories to better execute the new formations, to be one of his favorite parts of the game. While it may not look like it, football involved a lot of mental work — a lot of Physics and mathematics — alongside the physical aspect that people typically saw. It was seeing all his mental calculations come to fruition that Kevin saw that he enjoyed most — he liked being right.
It was as he was on his way to his locker, that he came across Eddward. He was walking from the athletics building and passing the football field, when he noticed the familiar young man carrying a large, cumbersome box with items spilling from the top. In what he had unknowingly, nostalgically noted as "true Eddward fashion", the young man tripped over his own feet and found himself on the floor, with the contents of the box — a large amount of decorative elements — scattered around the floor.
He would admit that there was a moment of hesitation inside of him, when he thought about going to help Eddward. They had, after all, not spoken to one another since their run-in at Mo and Tasha's, a little over three weeks ago. Not to mention, there was still a sore spot over how Eddward had taken to his… confession (?) earlier that last day.
Yet at the same time, he knew that he could not avoid the young man forever. Nor could he deny that a part of him had wanted to make contact with Eddward those past three weeks. He had his own questions to ask him, after all; and knew that sooner or later, he would have to.
He took a deep breath and sighed. He went over to where Eddward was picking up the decorations, and put down his backpack next to him, as he went to help him. "Lemme get these." He said, announcing his presence.
He had made a point of keeping his head down while he spoke to Eddward, so as not to look up at his face, just yet. However, this did not stop him from imagining what Eddward may have looked like in that very moment, as he had spoken to him. Perhaps he was more shocked than he was at the fact that he had entered the situation to help? Perhaps he was, dare he say it, giving a soft smile as he accepted the help? Or perhaps he simply had on a neutral expression and saw nothing of it, trying to keep the interaction as basic as possible? He did not know. He was unable to look up at Eddward, just yet.
"That… is unnecessary…" Eddward responded with. He was unsure how he felt hearing that, but continued to help in picking up the pieces and then in the end, stood and put them back into the box. It was when all the decorations were gathered up ad safely inserted back in, that Eddward said to him, "Unnecessary, but not unappreciated. I thank you for the assistance."
It was in that moment that he was finally able to bring himself to look at Eddward's face. The young man looked the same as always, and while he had expected his eyes to look at him with the same cold harshness and superiority that he had the last two times they interacted, he found that not to be the case. His eyes looked… calm, he would describe them as. It did not look as though he found any excessive annoyance with his presence.
"You're welcome." He said. Eddward gave him a nod, and that seemed to be the end of their interaction, for Eddward then reached down to pick-up the box and walked past him as he began to head down the stairs that led down to the football field. Like many times before when he was around Eddward, Kevin found himself unable to end the interaction there, and chasing after him. When he fell in step with Eddward, he mumbled, "So, uh…" with no clue what to say next.
"Is there a particular reason why you are following me?" Eddward asked him. As always, he was quick as ever to pick-up on his, Kevin's, odd behavior, and make him feel rather idiotic for following his feelings sporadically, without any reasoning behind it.
"No… I just…" His right hand went to rub at the back of his neck. He sighed deeply. "I kinda wanna ask what these decorations are for to make conversation, but I already know that they're for Homecoming, right?" Eddward nodded; he gave a sigh once more, this one deeper and heavier than the last. "Honestly, I don't know what to say. I just feel like I should be talking to you at this point."
"This is a very inappropriate time to do so, Kevin." (He noted the odd sense of relief that came from hearing Eddward say his name. After the morning carpool's incident with "the young Barr", this sounded like—) "I have many duties to attend to in preparation for Homecoming."
"I can see that. Decorating committee?"
"…More or less." Eddward said. "Nevertheless, it is all the more evidence to you that I cannot take time out of my busy schedule today to converse with you. Not unless it is a fleeting conversation like this one."
"I know, but— I can't help but think—"
"I understand what you mean." Eddward said. They reached the benches for the players of the school's various sports teams in front of the bleachers, and Eddward rested the box atop a part of the wooden surface. "I… know that eventually, you and I shall have to speak about our problems with one another — as you alluded to, some weeks ago. However, now is quite literally not the time. Please, do choose a better moment for the discussion."
"What about tonight?" Kevin asked him, almost immediately.
"Excuse me?" Eddward asked, clearly surprised.
"Tonight. After Homecoming." He elaborated on. "Are you gonna be there? We can… talk in the parking lot in front of the library, or something. Like—" His voice broke off. He immediately switched sentences. "I can be there. I feel like we should confront this sooner better than later… Is that okay with you?" His hands went deep into his pockets as he shrugged.
Eddward scrutinized him for some time, before finally saying, "You are asking me to remain at school property well into the night. While I am going to be attending the event, there is no telling how long it will take for the football game to end, nor how long it would take you to peel yourself from your peers and family, and make your way to the library. Not to mention, my doings during and after the game, are also a factor. It could be midnight by the time you and I are finally capable of meeting and speaking."
"I know, I know, which is why—"
"I will be there."
"Wait… what?" Kevin asked. He looked at Eddward as confused and surprised as he could possibly be.
Eddward gave a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. "Honestly, are you that ine—" He paused, catching himself, before clearing his throat and instead saying, "I said: I will be there. I have agreed to speak with you after the Homecoming game — be it 12am or 1am, I shall be waiting. However, let it not happen at the parking lot. That place is too much a beacon for mischief, and there is no telling at what time it will be empty. I would prefer it be the steps of the library."
"That's… fine with me." Kevin said. He was still stunned by Eddward's agreement to meeting up with him after the Homecoming game that night. He had expected him to set his own time and date, which he would have had to adhere to. That did not mean, however, that he was not happy with Eddward's acceptance. "I'll try to get there before 12, though. I do got homework after all."
"As do I. I, too, will try make a strong effort to arrive as early as possible, for this very purpose."
"Great. So, see you tonight, then?"
Eddward nodded at him, and he felt himself able to part with him, then. He left the area and headed back up the stairs that led to the pathway he had been on before he had spotted Eddward, and noticed that he had left his red backpack sitting on the concrete, for anyone to steal. He mentally scolded himself for being so ridiculous as he went to grab and put on the backpack; and then headed to the cafeteria hoping to have enough time to eat something — the locker forgotten.
.
.
The remainder of the day had flown by rather quickly, and before he knew it, it was time for the Homecoming game. He had gone through the usual process of freshening up and putting on his padding and uniform, in a daze of excitement. All he could think about was the rush that would hit him on the field — heart thumping, legs moving, lungs burning, etcetera. The football drills had been great, but simply nothing could hold a candle to the adrenaline rush he got while on the field — nor the buildup before it.
From where he and his teammates left the locker room, at the athletics center about a half-block away from the football field, he could hear the cheering and chatter and life of the crowd, and was glad that his helmet was covering the majority of his face, and that his mouthpiece gave him an excuse to explain why he was smiling so wildly. He felt almost jumpy underneath his skin, and let it out by shaking his hands; allowing the nerves to travel from inside him, down his arms, and to the tips of his fingers.
While the coach and assistant coach were talking and likely giving pointers, he was inside of his own head and psyching himself out. He was running through the plays they did that morning, and then once more in the afternoon. He was adding in his own notes and changes, and basically planning out the game within his own head. He had even taken the last few hours to doing some recon and re-watching of the opposing team's plays from the past year, and pointing out weaknesses and ways to combat what they might throw at him. He proudly admits to putting more effort into football, than he does the majority of his schoolwork.
It was about five minutes before the start of the game, when he finally tuned in on what was happening around him. He and his teammates were all huddled behind a large, opening banner that they would run through; and over the shouts of the crowd and the people who sat near the edges of the bleachers and could see them, the coach gave them one of his infamous pep-talks.
"Kick ass or get off my team!"
(Short, sweet, and to the point.)
He heard the team name being announced, and they rushed through the banner.
.
.
The football game… felt like a blur to him. When it was over, all he could really remember was looking up at the scoreboard and seeing that they had won — barely. It was one of their closest calls in the history of his being on the team. So close, in fact, that he had been surprised to see that they overcame the tie and when they had fallen behind in points, and actually somehow secured victory.
Needless to say, while the crowd cheered at their victory, afterwards, in the locker room, the coach told them how disappointed he had been watching them during the game. He said he had never seen so many mistakes in an opening game, and that the rest of their season had better not look like it did that day. He threatened to replace the worst of them with freshman, even, saying that they could do a far better job than some of the guys who had been on the team for over a year.
Inside, he was secretly glad that his father was at work and had been unable to see the game at all, because the last thing he wanted was for his father to see him and his teammates in such a sorry state.
In the locker room, after the coach left and as he bathed, the agitation of his teammates was clearly visible. Many of them had started mumbling and cursing, and one or two looked ready to start a fight with another player whom they had said had caused more mess ups in the game than any of the rest of them. He left the locker room, however, just as one player grabbed onto the shirt collar of another — over an argument in regards to knocking into one another and forcing the ball out of their hands — and a fight looked fully ready to break-out.
It was around 11pm when he finally reached the steps of the library. On his way there, he had contemplated whether or not he should follow through on his talk with Eddward. He felt himself in a bad mood from the results of the football game just now, and was not sure how this would translate into his feelings. He wanted to do the talk with a clear head, after all. However, when he got there, he noticed that Eddward was already sitting on the steps waiting for him, and knew that it was too late; his hopes of having the talk on another day had rested on whether or not Eddward would be in attendance and how that could be turned in his favor for an excuse.
When he was close enough for Eddward to hear him, the blue-eyed young man raised his head. The steps of the library were illuminated by the lights outside of the building, making it easy for one another to see each other. From there, he was able to see some people still left-over in the parking lot nearby, where he had originally suggested that he and Eddward meet.
"Greetings and salutations, Kevin." Eddward said, standing from the steps. He put his cellphone away to the inside of his jacket, where Kevin theorized a pocket lay, and began to pat at the back of his pants.
"Hey." He responded back. His voice did not sound as enthusiastic as he wished it to be, but he supposed that there was no helping it.
Eddward seemed to pick-up on his odd mood, instantly. "If you would like, we could talk another time." He suggested.
"No, no." He replied back. "I'll get over this eventually, but… I wanna do this now." He went to settle himself on the steps of the library. As he still had his backpack and extra duffle bag on him, he took them off of his shoulders and rested them right next to him; where he was certain not to lose them. Eddward did not sit at the steps, but remained standing, staring down at him.
"Are you certain?" Eddward asked. While he did not sit, he did lean against the stone pillar of the steps' thick, stone railways; with one knee bent and foot pressed up against it, and his arms crossed over his chest. His face remained passive.
"Yeah. I am." He replied back.
"In that case, what shall we talk about first?"
I think that from now on, Monday updates are gonna be early in the day, and Friday updates in the afternoons. That's a nice balance, don't you think?
Next Chapter: "The Talk" — one of many more to come.
Please review!
Updates every Monday and Friday.
~ Inkle
