X
"I think you got the wrong guy," I said, handing the card back to Cid.
"What makes you say that?" he responded, not taking his own business card back, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.
"I lost," the words were bitter leaving my mouth. My heart was heavy with disappointment, and something was bubbling under the surface. Some emotion, one that I don't think I had ever felt yet. I couldn't describe it.
"True, but you played a hell of a game," he took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling with his next words. "Sometimes winning ain't everything."
"If you're pitching me on your school, you're not doing a very good job."
"Shit, I guess that's true," he said with a shrug. "I'm the offensive coordinator over at CDSU. I think you'd be a perfect fit for our system."
The front of the card drew my eye. Cid Highwind. Offensive coordinator. Costa del Sol University Chocobos.
"Cid Highwind," the name stirred a memory in the back of my mind. "The quarterback?"
"Once," he responded with a shrug. "That was a long time ago."
Cid Highwind was considered the greatest quarterback to ever play at the collegiate level. He led Rocket Town Tech to two national championships, set numerous records in the NCAA and was highly sought after by every pro team. Forgoing his senior year, he left to the NFL draft and was selected with the first overall pick.
The next few years were nothing short of disastrous.
Highwind was arrested several times, found himself battling a well-documented addiction to painkillers and never produced on the field. He was labeled as the biggest bust in the history of the NFL, and was cut from every team that dared to take a chance on him.
"Look, kid, I don't expect you to answer right now. Just know that I've got my eye on you."
"Thanks," I responded, sliding the card into my pocket. Cid reached out, shook my hand, stubbed out his cigarette on the wall and disappeared around the corner.
A few of my teammates emerged from the locker room, looking down, heading toward the idling school bus a few feet away. I stared at the corner Cid disappeared around, as if waiting for him to come back.
The sky slowly changed from soul-crushing grey to a not-so-depressing blue.
The days blurred together, one blending with another. The monotony of life was getting to me. Wake up, shower, school, work, bed.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
We cleaned out our football lockers. It was a somber environment. I think we all thought that this day would come, eventually, with me at the helm of the team, but we locked it up deep within the recesses of our minds. Now that the reality was here, returning our pads to Coach and emptying the metal boxes struck a chord deep within us all.
It was over.
Some, like Rude, took the news more amicably than others. He knew for a fact that he was going to play at the next level, and had numerous colleges courting him. Reno and Rufus took it rather well, also. It meant more time for Reno to get fucked up, and Rufus, well…
He was already set for life. Perks of his father being worth a billion and a half dollars. What need did he have for football or college when he was going to inherit his father's oil empire?
Others, like Ricky, didn't fare as well. The receiver stood in the doorway of the equipment room for a long time, debating internally fiercely about whether or not he should return his helmet, or hold onto something that was so near and dear to him for four years of his life. Eventually, rationality won, and he begrudgingly handed the plastic over, leaving the locker room without a second glance.
I never saw Ricky again. A few years after that day, I'll hear that he'd dropped out of college after his junior year and joined the Air Force. His plane was shot down somewhere over the Middle East. They never found his body.
With a loud ripping sound, a janitor tore Zack's plaque from above his locker, tossing the slate into a mobile trashcan, before wheeling it over to the overflowing garbage bucket in the corner of the room. So, the mourning period was finally over. People were beginning to forget about Zack. Black clothes with the number one scrawled on them became less and less common until they faded away completely.
Then, they took down his memorial.
His parents came, taking the shoebox offered to them by the principal. All of the letters and messages overflowed from the cardboard, as the janitor took the picture of Zack down, which Zack's dad tucked under his arm. After that unceremonious ending to the stand, the Fairs left, and all traces of Zack had disappeared off the face of the school.
This was wrong.
He's dead, people. D-E-A-D. Dead. Zack is never coming back. Never going to walk down these halls again. Never going to complain about the lunch. Never going to get caught trying to sneak into the women's locker room. He is gone. Gone forever.
How could no one accept that but me? Was that how normal people grieved? A mourning period for a few moments and then forgotten about? Wiped away, like a bad test score. Something you grieved for for a few hours, and then promptly shoved aside in your mind.
What the fuck was wrong with these people?
I stood silently, watching all traces of Zack be cleaned out of the school. His locker was reassigned to a freshman that was having trouble with hers. I floated through the day in a haze, not wanting or willing to talk to anyone. Be it teachers or other students. Thankfully, people began ignoring me again, now that I wasn't the winning quarterback that people expected me to be. So funny how quickly they forget what you did before. For a while, I couldn't walk three feet without someone wishing me luck or smiling at me or congratulating me. Now, I was back to square one. I faded into the walls, somewhat grateful to return to the exterior of the social bubble.
But there was a nagging sprig of doubt in the back of my mind, begging to be scratched.
Aerith silently crept behind me, staring at the freshman struggle to open Zack's locker.
"Let's get out of here," she said softly. I nodded, finally tearing my eyes away just as the petite girl pulled the door open.
We headed for the exit, finding our way in the sea of people rushing to get to their classes or to lunch. Aerith pushed the doors open to the parking lot, disappearing in the cool spring sunlight, but I had stopped in my tracks.
My blue eyes had met Tifa's ruby ones, as she stood, alone, in the hall. Books clutched to her chest in her usual manner.
"Tifa…" the word was quiet as I matched her gaze. It wasn't accusing, or hurt. It was neutral, no emotion. As if I were simply a stranger. We hadn't talked since that night she came into the Tasty-Freeze. I tore my eyes away from hers, pushing the doors open.
"Sorry," I mumbled, too softly for her to hear.
Slumping into the seat of Aerith's car, I stared out the windshield, waiting for her to turn on the engine.
"I didn't get in," she said, breaking the silence. I looked at her in confusion. "To Cosmo Canyon. Anywhere. No college has accepted me. They've all either wait-listed me or flat out denied me."
"I'm sorry, Aerith."
"You're such a good person, Cloud," she turned to me, smiling through the tears that sparkled in her eyes. "You've put up with me through all of my bullshit, through all of this… insanity that's gripped my life."
"You're not the only one suffering through it," I said, turning and looking out the window. "Aerith…"
I hesitated. Lately, a hollow feeling had sunken into my soul. I had to exorcise this demon.
"It's all my fault. Zack's dead because of me. Because I drank too much. Because I wasn't strong enough to resist those people egging me on."
My peripherals caught Aerith staring at me, fresh tears running down her face, as I exhaled deeply, staring at the glove box.
She slapped me. Hard.
"I was there, Cloud," she seethed. "It's not like you were invisible and I was blind. I saw how much you drank. I saw Zack put you in his car, and I saw him drive you away. It was an accident, Cloud. This blame you keep holding onto will consume you…"
She sighed, wiping her eyes.
"'You can't define yourself on your failures,'" she continued, softer. "He always told me that. Cloud, you can't continue to blame yourself, you'll never be free. You'll always have this burden, dragging you down, drowning you, until you finally accept that what happened was simply an accident."
Her words didn't comfort me like they should have. It was much easier said than done.
The remainder of the school year continued on without much incident. Tifa began dating Vincent, and rumors quickly began spreading about the 17-year-old with daddy's money suddenly dating a 22-year-old wanna-be rock star and bartender.
The school year was over. The seniors had graduated, and Reno had a big party to celebrate it. Surprise, surprise.
I showed up alone, skirting around the fist-fight that was brewing in the lawn, and entering the party. A wall of sound, both from the country music crackling from the long-since blown out speakers and the incessant chatter from everyone at the party, assaulted me.
I moved to the kegs, avoiding everyone in the party. It wasn't hard, most of them carried on their conversations as if I wasn't even there. The ones that did notice me simply glanced at me, before turning away. It was official, I had returned to the point of social invisibility.
The kegs were in their usual place, chilling in trashcans full of ice. I grabbed a red Solo cup from the stack on the counter, already covered in spilled alcohol, and filled up.
"Cloud."
"Tifa," I responded without even turning around, recognizing her voice anywhere, pumping the keg a few times.
"Can you fill me up when you're done?"
"Don't you have a boyfriend who's a bartender?" I asked cynically.
"Oh, so now you're just like everyone else?"
I spun around, meeting her gaze, mentally bracing myself. She stared at me, fire burning within her eyes, I instantly knew, right then, that all of the tension that had bubbled up within us was about to erupt, in a violent way. I think she was worse off than I was. Tifa had no option but to bottle everything inside, the entire school had ostracized her, thanks to her dating of Vincent. She caught flak from every angle, from both her peers and the super-conservative minded townspeople. Her friendship with Aerith had eroded to nearly nothing after she had latched onto me. It was a tough year for her.
"Chill out, Tifa. It's a joke."
"Shut up, Cloud."
I blinked in surprise.
"I thought you were the one person who I could count to be on my side, to be in my corner, when everyone else is against me, but I was wrong," the words flowed like the tears began to. She had this bottled up for a long time. "Goddammit, Cloud, you are the shittiest friend I've ever had. You hide away in your little cocoon of pain and suffering and you don't care about anyone else! You never let anyone in!"
I couldn't meet her gaze anymore, tearing my eyes from her. I felt shame boil up within me. Shame and something else… something suspiciously like anger.
"You don't understand."
"Oh, I tried, Cloud. I tried damn hard to understand. But you wouldn't open up for me. I was there for you, I told you that I would support you through this time, but you told me to go away. That you didn't need me, that you didn't need anyone."
"Like you're any better!" I exploded, slamming my beer quickly and throwing the cup aside. "You jump from relationship to relationship like they're fucking goombas and you're fucking Super Mario."
… Okay, not the best metaphor, Cloud.
"You cling to guys because you need them," I continued, raising my voice a little. "Because even though you're daddy's princess, and you have all of his money, he doesn't have time for you, and for that, you need some guy to make you feel special and important."
Tifa puffed herself up, readying her next words that would strike with the force of a hurricane.
"At least I'm not fucking my dead best friend's girlfriend," she spat.
Oh no she didn't.
"Don't you dare say that to me."
"You are so obsessed with having this image of the brooding, tortured hero, who is constantly haunted by the death of his best friend. What part of that involves sleeping with your best friend's girl?"
Rage boiled under my skin. I didn't think about what my next words would be, and I definitely should have. I said something I wish I hadn't.
"You don't understand, you stupid cunt!" I roared. Tifa blinked in surprise, taken aback for a moment. Only for a moment, though, before she grabbed a beer off of the counter and threw it in my face. The liquid splashed all over me, as I closed my eyes to avoid it getting in.
She slapped me. And then attacked my other cheek. And again, my head snapping both directions as she attacked each cheek with reckless abandon. She was crying openly now,
"I can't believe I cared about you. You're an asshole, Cloud," she sobbed, tears running down her face as she stormed out of the party. I wiped my face clean, looking around at everyone in the party staring at me.
"What the hell are you all looking at?" I yelled, and people returned to their conversations. The back door was thrown open roughly as I marched through, blinking lukewarm Meteor Light out of my eyes.
Tifa was right, I was a colossal asshole. I let my temper boil over, to wrestle control away from me. I shouldn't have said that, I realized it about halfway to the cooler in Reno's backyard. The chairs that circled around the plastic box sat still in the night. No one was out here. I slumped into Zack's chair, opening the cooler.
It was empty.
Tossing my head back with an exhausted sigh, I stared up into the starry night sky.
I had to call her.
"Damn," a girlish voice came from behind me. The word was long and drawn out. "Shit was crazy in there. I didn't know if I should start chanting 'Jerry, Jerry'."
She was shorter, petite, Asian. A goofy smile was plastered on her face as she carried a half-drank 40 ounce bottle of malt liquor.
"You're Cloud Strife, ain't ya'?"
"Yeah… Who are you?"
"Yuffie Kisargi," she said, slumping down in the chair next to me, releasing a loud belch. "I'm a sophomore."
"I figured," I muttered, turning my gaze back to the grass. She blew a bubble, smacking her gum loudly. "Look, if you don't mind… I'd rather be alone."
"I do mind," she said, leaning forward. "Look, Spikes…"
"Don't call me that," I weakly protested. I don't think she heard me, since she continued on without pause.
"People say stupid shit all of the time. I mean, you did come off as an asshole, but she was too, y'know? I mean, everyone is entitled one or two blowups a month. Usually I just start crying and tell the guy that I'm pregnant, but calling her a cunt works too."
"Look, I know you're trying to help me, and I appreciate that, but I just want to be left alone right now."
She shrugged, popping her gum loudly again. She continued to sit there, silently for a few moments, shifting uncomfortably. I could feel that it was killing her to not talk. She popped her gum again.
"Want me to suck your cock?"
What?
"What?" I asked, flustered, snapping toward her. She blew a large bubble innocently, her face maintaining its neutrality.
"I give pretty good blowjobs," she said, like she was mentioning that she had good handwriting. "It might take your mind off of her."
"Uh, thanks, but no, I'm okay," I said, a small smile on my face. I couldn't help but smile. This girl was ridiculous! She shrugged, leaning back and drinking her 40.
"Suit yourself, Spikes."
The air had gotten colder, I thought with a ghost of a smile, shoving my hands in my pockets and hunching my shoulders down. The button up flannel shirt I was wearing was poor protection against the cold, as I walked home from Reno's house. I didn't see any of the guys, I didn't want to, especially after the fight Tifa and I had. I'm sure they'd heard about it by now.
A flicker of lights danced across the pavement, causing me to lift my head.
Flames licked the night sky, casting and dispelling shadows on the dilapidated and ramshackle houses on the street. My heart stopped when I realized which house was on fire.
No.
All thoughts of being cold forgotten, I took off down the road, sprinting toward the mess of fire trucks and police cars already on scene.
A throng of onlookers had already gathered just outside the emergency vehicles, like moths drawn to the fire. I shoved my way through the crowd, pushing my way to the front. A cop stopped me.
"Hold on, you can't get through here," he said, holding his arms out. Clearly he wasn't from Nibelheim.
"That's my house!" I yelled, shoving past him. My mind had shut down, only one thought was searing across it. "Mom!"
"Cloud, calm down," one of the Nibelheim policeman said, restraining me as I continued to scream. "She's fine! She's fine!"
She's… fine?
I went limp in the policeman's arms, letting him drag me over to a squad car. She was sitting in the back, the door closed, as her body was rocked with sobs.
"Mom!" I called, as she turned to me. The cop opened the door, as I crouched down, hugging Mom tightly. She cried into my shoulder, as I shut my eyes tightly, sighing in relief. We sat there for a few more minutes, sheer relief filling my soul at the fact that she was alright. "What happened?"
"It looks like she turned the stove on and forgot about it," he said, as Mom cried even harder into my shoulder. "She was wandering around the sidewalk when we arrived. The blaze was too strong; we couldn't save anything, Cloud… I'm sorry."
The sun's first rays peeked over the horizon, as I sat on the edge of the fire truck, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders. The fire had been extinguished, but the blackened ruins of our house smoked lightly in the pale daylight. Mom slept beside me, her head on my shoulder.
Everything I ever owned was gone.
I felt hollow. Deep down I knew that they were all material possessions, things that could easily be replaced, but that didn't soothe the pain. The only possessions I had were the clothes on my back.
I tossed the blanket off of me, getting to my feet and walking into the ruins of the house. A few insurance adjusters picked through the ashes, trying to figure out exactly how much money we would receive. I walked through what was once the kitchen, heading into the backyard.
Not even this was spared, I thought dully. The tree burned apart like the kindling that it was. The chain link fence had fallen to the ground, blackened and warped from the heat. The tire was twisted and melted like a Mobius Strip, and the footballs were all deflated and flattened.
I picked them up, the tough rubber charred and covered in soot. I tossed them aside, before noticing one.
It wasn't melted, or damaged in any way, from what I could tell. I grabbed it, my fingers falling across the well-worn laces. It was the football Zack gave me for my fourteenth birthday. Nike Buster Sword, the first pro model football I had ever gotten. It was too big for me then, but now it fits perfectly.
Unbidden tears fell from my eyes, washing the soot from the leather I held in my hands. Sniffling, I wiped my eyes.
"Cloud?"
"Tifa?"
Her name leapt out of my mouth as I spun around. It wasn't her though.
It was Mrs. Fair.
"Mrs. Fair?" I blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"We heard about your house," she said, taking a step toward me. "I… I don't know what to say."
"It's fine," I lied, trying to smile but not quite summoning a full one. "It's just stuff, right?"
I couldn't even complete the lie, as the walls broke down. Sobs ripped from my throat, tears ran down my face as I cried, the shock of the last few months finally taking its toll.
Mrs. Fair put a hand on my shoulder.
"Cloud. It's alright," she said softly. "Come with me."
"Mrs. Fair, this is too much," I protested, as she opened the door, revealing a rather ramshackle apartment. Mom had already walked in, looking around excitedly.
"Cloud, please, you've always been like a son to us," she said, blinking away a tear, as Mr. Fair walked in, carrying a bag with each hand. "We can't leave you homeless. Of course, it'll be a bit of a commute now…"
We were inside an older apartment complex, over in the metropolis of Junon, about a half hour from Nibelheim. On one hand, this would allow me easy access to all of the best medical clinics for Mom. But on the other…
How was I supposed to go to school?
"The insurance money from Zack's car and… the accident," Mrs. Fair said, as if she was reading my mind. "We'd like you to have it."
"No," I shook my head. "Absolutely not. We have some money coming from the insurance on the house. I'll make do until then."
Mrs. Fair's lip trembled, before she enveloped me in a hug.
"If you need anything, anything at all Cloud, just call us."
I didn't call them. While the insurance adjusters dotted their I's and crossed their T's, I spent my time getting our new apartment set up with essential things. Groceries and clothing. The apartment was sparsely furnished, a low end television and a few couches that were so uncomfortable, it'd be better to sit on the ground. The beds weren't bad, but I definitely deep cleaned them as soon as the Fairs left.
The streets of Junon were incredibly busy. That was one of the first things I noticed, as I weaved through the crowd. My headphones were plugged in, as I streamed Internet radio into my phone. It was the final minutes of the first half of the Midgar Soldiers against the Junon Weapons, the dull roar of the crowd audible even over the audio stream.
I ripped the headphones from my ears, pulling the heavy door of the public library open, dipping inside. Absently spiking my hair up, I moved through the entryway over to the public computers, sitting down on a stool in front of an open one. Double clicking on the Internet browser, I turned the steaming off of my phone, and proceeding to type in the address for the Junon Tribune, the local newspaper.
It popped up after a moment of thinking, and I took a deep breath, searching the archives for a specific article. Well, it wasn't really an article, not really, more like a blurb.
The title was simple. Nibelheim falls to Modeoheim. There were a few sentences describing the actual game, followed by the box score and stat lines. It was exactly what I was looking for, however, so I printed it out. While I waited for the printer to warm up, my mind flickered to a certain website.
You shouldn't do this, I kept telling myself as I punched in the URL for , the national source of all things high school football. I located my state, opening the link.
The article whirred out of the printer, so I grabbed it and a nearby Sharpie, writing a single phrase across in big, bold letters.
NEVER AGAIN.
My attention turned back to the computer screen, clicking on the Nibelheim Dragons link.
National ranking; not ranked. State ranking; not ranked. Division ranking; eighth out of ten.
Well, shit.
With the tragic death of Zack Fair, the team fell apart at the seams, barely limping into the playoffs, the article read. While Cloud Strife showed improvement with each of his starts, the improvement was marginal, and with the loss of nearly all of his weapons, including All State running back Rude Richardson, the Dragons may be in for a long, tough season.
Marginal improvement? I seethed, feeling anger bubble up inside of me.
A link on the side of the website drew my attention.
"What is this…?" I wondered aloud, clicking on the link. A huge picture dominated the left hand side of the article.
A picture of Sephiroth.
Wait a second.
What the hell?
Modeoheim Serpents. State ranking; first. Division ranking; first out of ten.
National ranking; second.
"Modeoheim's defense was damn near impenetrable last season on their way to their state title," I read, scratching my chin. "With the return of the Remnant triplets on defense, as well as the addition of recently transferred Safer Sephiroth under center, this team could take the nation by storm."
"Sephiroth…" I muttered, squinting at the screen. "What are you doing?"
I clicked on his player link.
Number seven in the nation. A phenomenal athlete who can play any position on the field. His arm strength and accuracy are incredible, but his decision making is a little questionable, but looks to improve as he gets some starts under his belt.
Colleges interested; Cosmo Canyon, Rocket Town Tech, Midgar, Junon State…
I stared, dumbfounded, for a good three minutes. My brain finally kicked in, and I found myself typing "Cloud Strife" into the search bar.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Strife, Cloud.
Senior.
Quarterback.
Nibelheim High School.
6 foot, 1 inch. 190 pounds.
Player ranking…?
Not ranked.