Nicholas goes tumbling to the ground, and the crowd reacts with tremendous applause. Atlas and Kyra's eyes meet. Kyra puts her hand over her mouth out of shock. Atlas steps back, attempting to conceal his face from her.
"Oh no, it's Druckman, everyone scram!"
Those spectating the fight retreat into the woodlands. Kyra dives behind a gravestone, trying to evade the principal's piercing glare. Atlas takes the good samaritan approach, hiding himself and an unconscious Nicholas in a large tomb. However, his efforts prove unsuccessful as the two are quickly apprehended.
"You two, my office, right now," Druckman scolds.
Later that afternoon, Atlas and Nicholas walk out of the principal's office with a new set of detention slips.
"Wait, let me get this straight. Even though you were my opponent, and I've been tormenting you since you were young, you still tried hiding my body so I wouldn't get caught," Nicholas affirms.
"Yeah, I wouldn't wish Principal Druckman on my worst enemy."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but thanks, man. Not many people would've gone out of their way to do that. So I gotta give you some credit."
Nicholas pauses, "You know, that punch made me realize something."
"What?"
"Look, you and I aren't exactly popular."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"So, why are we the ones fighting all the time?"
"You're the one that stole my bike," Atlas asserts.
"That's all in the past now. How about we steal Lukas's bike together."
"Wait, Lukas Bradford?"
"Yeah, I can't stand that kid."
"You couldn't steal it even if you wanted to; he has a car."
"Well, that's another point for Lukas. Between him and me, the score is already ten to one. He's popular, handsome, rich, better than us in every single way."
"I know what you mean; I wish we could do something about it."
"Nah, I would just fight the kid, but if I did that, the whole school would probably hate me."
The two walk out the door through the side entrance, approaching the sidewalk. Atlas strives to make light of the bleak situation, "Well, look on the bright side, at least we had a cool fight!"
Nicholas nears the gas station, holding his arms over his head, "You call that a fight? I've been in way worse confrontations, buddy."
He turns around, "But you can throw a nice punch, though. I can tell a slugger when I see one."
He turns back around. "You ever need any help; you know where to find me," Nicholas mentions ripping up his detention slip.
Atlas clenches his hand tightly, "A slugger, huh."
At the batting cages, Atlas uses that same hand to swing a baseball bat. He cracks the ball, sending it flying at the target. Another ball is loaded, promptly hurled at Atlas. Kyra shows up to the batting cage, startled by Atlas's presence, "Oh, Atlas, you're here?"
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here. Practice makes perfect, after all. Are you going to try to join the baseball team next season? I think the team's running low on players, and I think you have what it takes."
The two begin hitting pitches back and forth.
"I don't know yet. What if I mess it up? What if I'm too nervous?"
"I know the feeling—the feeling that everyone's counting on you, the sense that everyone is somehow watching you. It's definitely nerve-racking," Kyra states.
"Well, I guess that's the big difference between you and me. No one counts on me, but even then, I'm still nervous."
Atlas unleashes his anger into his swing, "I wished more people counted on me."
Kyra unleashes her anger into her swing, "I wish no one counted on me."
The two lay down their busted bats and catch their breath on the sidelines. Kyra notices Atlas's bruised chin, "Hey, about that fight I saw between Nicholas and you."
"Yeah," Atlas hesitantly answers, scared of the response that awaited him.
"That was awesome; you totally showed that mean brute who's boss."
"You think so, thanks."
"That must have taken some serious courage."
"More like blind confidence," Atlas grumbles.
"Oh, I meant to get your number."
"You want my number," Atlas asks in disbelief.
"Why not? We are friends."
"I don't have a lot of female friends; I guess this will be a new experience for me."
"You're not alone; I don't have a lot of male ones either."
"You don't? I expected Miss popular to have all the boys wrapped around her pretty little finger," Atlas teases.
"Hey, being popular isn't all it's cut out to be."
"Oh, don't worry, I'm sure there are plenty of trials and tribulations that go along with the popular title. You could struggle to find a place to sit at lunch or what to wear in the morning to impress your swarm of adoring followers."
"I'm serious. I would give anything to be unpopular. To free me of all the stress that plagues my life."
"I'm the total opposite; I would kill to have someone remember my name, to know that people care about me."
"I guess we're two different types of people then," Kyra reasons.
"Well, they say opposites attract."
"Attract?"
"I didn't mean like dating or anything; I just meant like friendship, yeah... friendship."
After Atlas and Kyra exchange numbers, they decide to head home together. "So, where do you live? Close I hope," Kyra pesters.
"I just moved into Oakwood; what about you?"
"Wait, you mean Oakwood—like the condo complex."
"Yeah, what else would I be referring to?"
"What apartment are you staying at?"
"I believe 409; why?"
"Oh my gosh, I live in 410; we're neighbors."
"Really? You're pulling my leg, right."
"No, I'm being one hundred percent truthful."
Atlas has a profound revelation, (Oh, that's why she was in Oak Wood Condominiums the other day. She must've been walking home.)
The two lively individuals pass Oakwood's gilded gate and a large fallen tree next to the entrance. They stop by the clubhouse to get a good look at the recently renovated pool. After crossing the tennis court threshold, the pair travels to the complex's leftmost houses.
"So, that young lady you're staying with, is she your girlfriend," Kyra probes.
"I see that you've talked; no, she's actually my older sister. My parents are out of town right now, so she's the one in charge. I wish I had a girlfriend. Summer break is just around the corner, and it's going to be so lonely without one."
"Don't discount your friendships Atlas; sometimes, they can be just as powerful."
"That's an interesting way of looking at things. Huh, Kyra Kennedy, a legend on the softball field and a true optimist."
"Atlas Banks, a talented baseball prodigy with a knockout uppercut."
Atlas and Kyra laugh at each other's half-hearted attempts to describe the other. The couple arrives at their respective houses, and they decide to call it a day.
Atlas opens his blue door on the left.
Kyra opens her yellow door on the right.
Atlas stays up to twelve o'clock at night.
Kyra wakes up at six o'clock in the morning.
Atlas downs another fizzy soda with a whopping gulp as he stares blankly into his computer monitor.
Kyra pours herself a savory glass of orange juice performing calisthenics on the side.
The two open their curtains, letting in a dazzling ray of light.
Atlas chats with the moon, "I can't believe the girl I like is living next to me. What are the odds? I can't squander this opportunity. I have to get close to her. I have to tell her that I like her."
Kyra converses with the sun, "How did he know my last name? I remember his from the morning announcement at school, but mine wasn't called. Maybe he has a thing for me."
Atlas continues, "You know, she was awfully friendly during our latest encounter. Heck, she even gave me her number. Maybe she has a thing for me."
"Nah, that can't be it; that just doesn't seem right," Atlas and Kyra both explain to the spiritual entities.
"There's no way a girl like her would fall for a guy like me."
"He's probably a guy who wants to make more friends."
"I shouldn't jump to any conclusions." They both say aloud.