Chapter 2
"That's enough Brad." Tony had prevented Brad from swinging at Rolex.
"Aw Tony, c'mon. The guy's a freak, a street kid - a streeter!" Brad whined.
Tony shook his head and tightened his grip on Brad's fist. No words were needed, just the silent threat.
Rolex opened his mouth to thank Tony, the soccer pro as everyone knew him as, but received an icy glare from the boy in question and he shut his mouth on the acknowledgement. Nothing had changed. Rolex had thought at one point that he and Tony would eventually become fast friends, but nothing ever came of it. Tony was ever quiet, like a lion sneaking up on its prey, never alarming the enemy until the last second. Tony was there, but he wasn't - standing right beside you, but for all the conversation in the world, never joining in. He listened, and only when necessary added a few mind-directing comments.
Tony turned on Rolex, "And you.if you know what's good for you, you may want to quit living."
Rolex snorted, "I may want to with a remark like that. You want to decode it for me?" A couple of the boys nearby snickered; the weekly ritual of the 'battle of the words'. It had never ceased from the first day at soccer trials.
"You want to run that by me again?"
Rolex shrugged, "Sure. I don't grasp the degree of your threat."
Tony's fists clenched by his sides and he faced Brad once more, "Ok, so forget what I said."
Brad grinned and took a step forward, rubbing his hands in glee, "I don't care if we have the tournament this weekend, I'm going to hurt you so bad this time you won't be breathing on your own at the end of this."
Rolex grinned back at the angry face of Brad, "Too bad, Brad."
Brad's fists lowered slightly, becoming slightly unnerved, "What now?"
Cocking his head slightly to the side, Rolex's grin widened, "Bells' gonna ring." And sure enough, the bell went off, causing Brad to lower his fists to his side, aware now that the teachers were looking their way since they weren't moving to go inside. "How cliché is that? 'Saved by the bell'."
Trotting by the gang of boys straggling back in, Rolex sighed in relief. Nothing ever changed. Day after day he was still the street kid. Nothing he did would ever change that. He was brilliant, athletic; perfect in every sense that a twelve year old could be. But everyone always blamed it on the fact that he was still a street kid.
He'd been at school for a little over four months now; Christmas was just around the bend. In all the four months at school, he'd made nil on progressing forward in the friendship matter. He'd excelled in every subject, especially in athletics, his parents were so proud, but that didn't matter much to Rolex. What he wanted most were some friends.
The teachers had long learned that you could never catch Rolex unawares. He being a streeter, everyone watched him with one eye, and not just the kids. Rolex could appear to be sleeping and still when asked a question out of the blue, he knew every detail. It was incredible. Some of the teachers loved him for studying so hard (what they didn't know was that Rolex had never studied for anything in his life), while other teachers despised him. Mr. Bordeau was no exception. To Rolex, it seemed that it was his life goal to find fault with Rolex.
"Rolex, you're shirt is not tucked in. Tuck it in now!"
Rolex looked at the other students filing into the classroom and into their seats. None of them had theirs tucked in. A slight frown creased his forehead and he let a little of anger show as he looked up into the ghoulish face of Mr. Bordeau. He'd learned long ago not to argue.
"Yes, Mr. Bordeau."
Mr. Bordeau looked down his nose at Rolex, making sure that he did exactly as he'd been told. "Hurry up Rolex, you're making the class late!" He pushed the boy off in the direction of his seat. Walking to the head of the class, Mr. Bordeau smirked and caught Rolex's eye before he began, "I'm sorry class, but as usual, our dear friend Rolex has made us all late again. I'd have him apologize to the class, if you don't mind the hold up."
Many kids cheered at this form of entertainment, Brad guffawed loudly from his seat in the back.
"Stand up, Rolex, and apologize to your classmates."
Taking a deep breath, Rolex stood and gave the class a contrite smile. Then with a flare, and a devilish glint in his eye, he bowed and said in a grand voice, "My dear classmates, you have my most heartfelt apology.I mean, it's not every day that this happens to me." Giggles greeted the ludicrous comment, since it was exactly everyday that he was up and begging pardon from his class. "And so I feel that I must express my regret to each and every one of you."
He proceeded through the list of his class members, "And finally, I get to Tony." He finished with Tony every time, hoping that he'd see some flicker of friendship there. Although he stated his apology in a comical fashion, he meant it from the bottom of his heart, "Tony, you are the idol I look up to everyday. The only person who I consider a friend." Here he added a little sniffle, "If you would accept my apology, then it'd make my whole day a whole lot brighter."
Tony sneered and looked to Mr. Bordeau, "You idiot! Now you've gone and wasted half our class!"
Mr. Bordeau nodded his agreement. Of course he hadn't bothered to interrupt him while he'd been apologizing to the class. "Go to the office, Rolex. That took much too long." He couldn't help but add, "Oh, and Rolex," when he'd gained the boy's full attention he continued, "Have a good weekend."
Rolex raised a brow and quickly left the class, gladly obliging his teacher's directions to the office, this was where he usually spent his math classes
Trudging down the halls seemed to take less time that usual, perhaps it was because Rolex had finally seen a change in Tony's face. Rolex couldn't help but grin.
Rolex stepped off the bus and waved to his 'adopted' mother, Susan. She never failed to meet him at the bus stop to pick him up and he greatly appreciated that. It was nice to have someone look forward to seeing you, she and Carl were the only ones. His mind chastised him, don't forget about Coach Jim.
Susan looked to her son, "Come on, I made your favourite dish."
"Quiche!?" he exclaimed.
His mother nodded.
"Right on!"
Susan couldn't quite figure out how such a kid could like quiche, she, herself despised the food, whereas Carl.well Carl she could never tell anything with. She rested her hand on Rolex's shoulder as they made their way to the vehicle. The car, the latest of Hyundai's hybrid hover series, seemed to sit on invisible wheels, floating there on an even more invisible breeze.
"Can I open the doors mom? Please?"
Susan laughed and handed him the remote. He took it gleefully and pressed a button, the doors slid effortlessly above and behind the top of the car. "Coooool!"
"Ok, little star, time we get going. Only a few hours before the game time."
Rested and excited, Rolex stretched his achilles and bounced on his toes, concerning himself on keeping warm in the change room rather than on the game ahead. This was the deciding game for the winner of the pool, unfortunately, as things often turn out with the drawing of teams for pools, the two best teams of the city ended up being in the same pool. How that happened, no one knew for sure, but there were two certain teams that were absolutely enraged about the matter.
Coach Jim entered the room, his clipboard tucked under his elbow. "Ok boys, I know you hate this, especially knowing that we have to beat a team that we should be playing in the finals, but we have to win this game in order to move on. I'm proud of how far we've come this past year, especially considering the number of rookies," he nodded to Rolex, "whether you win this game or not, though, I'll still be proud of you. The key thing to remember, however, is that this team will want to win this game just as much, if not more, because they've been coming in second in all the standings to us all year. They're a tough team, there's no doubt about that, but we have the pride, the determination, the drive and definitely the skill to win this. No holding back. Now, do we want this!?"
"YEAH!" came the reply from every boy, shouting out his frustration and nervousness.
"Good, then that should be a lengthy enough speech." They giggled neurotically. Mentally Coach Jim shook his head and thought, damn, these kids were higher than a man on the moon. "Ok, then let's get this game going!"
They charged out of the change room like bulls, their cleats clacking loudly on the cement as they ran down the hallway towards the stadium. Once they broke out onto the field many of the rookies paused to take in the hundreds of spectators filling the seats, thousands more were empty, but it didn't matter, the magnitude was still there. Rolex took it in, but didn't act like the others, he didn't want to appear like a gawker. Having warmed up on the warm-up field, they quickly lined up at the center line sang the national anthem then dispersed into their positions, while the rest jogged over to the bench. Rolex bounced on his toes once more, keeping his muscles from seizing up, despite being in a stadium with the winds being blocked, it was still cold. As the ref walked onto the field in his black and white garb, Rolex couldn't help but grin, twelve years old and being treated like an all-star athlete, the only thing missing were the Scouts - those would be at the state championships.
The two flags-men strutted over to the edge of the field and waved their bright flags signaling that they were ready, then the ref called down to the goalies and asked if they were ready, they all were ready. Feeling his nervousness take a plunge down into his stomach, Rolex took a deep breath, hoping to steady his nerves. This was crazy. The sense grew worse when he noted out of the corner of his eye some of the opposing teams from other pools file in to fill in rows of seating. Grimacing, Rolex quickly thought of the older plays they used to start a game, he didn't want other teams seeing how they began.
He jogged from his center midfield position to where Tony and Craig were waiting for the starting whistle. He wrapped an arm around both Tony and Craig, the only time that either of the boys accepted contact from Rolex, but the important thing was said. For each play, they'd come up with a different action to determine which would be used. Now the entire team knew.
Whistle sounded and the ball was tapped forward with a quick pass back to Rolex. Taking it forward a few steps to draw his check towards him, Rolex then tapped it over to the waiting right mid for a square pass, everything went like clockwork. That had been the goal for Coach Jim and he'd succeeded, finally drilling into the young minds the importance of passing and not hogging the ball for self-gaining. They worked as a single mind.
It wasn't long after that they got a quick goal, an incredible play. With all the confusion in front of the net, Tony had just barely been able snag the ball from a defender and tap it back to Rolex who sent it through a hard arc for the top right corner.
After the third goal, the game deteriorated, the Tornado's lost all heart, Rolex on the other hand, couldn't have felt more exhilarated, and he'd just scored all three goals - his first hat trick. But his spirits were quickly dashed and soon joined those of the Tornado's, when he began to hear to faint chants of the teams watching from above.
".Bays United sucks!"
".the Bays won't stays in the game."
Rolex forced the taunts to the back of his mind, blocking out everything except for the game at hand, and encouraged the others to do so when he noticed them faltering. He kept on reminded them that the others were afraid to face them, hence the reason for their shouts.
Rolex was on a break away, carrying the ball from well behind center to beyond. All that was before him was the goalie, who was uncertainly coming out to block the oncoming force. He sensed somebody coming from behind and jumped, he fleetingly saw somebody slide beneath him before his momentum carried him above the defender towards the ball again, but he sensed to late the other defender crashing into him from the side. Still in the air, Rolex felt the oxygen punched out of his lungs as the heavy defender crushed him under his body. Something cracked in the process, both Rolex and the defender could hear it, but he wasn't certain whose bone had been broken.
The defender rolled off of Rolex and hastily apologized and offered him a hand up since the whistle had been blown. Reaching up, Rolex accepted it and pulled himself up, but he quickly fell to his knees as a blaring pain shot from his ankle up to his head. Almost sarcastically, his mind said to himself, Ok, so it's my bone that broke - great!
"Ah, Jesus. Are you ok?"
Gritting his teeth, Rolex shook his head and buried his fists into his eyes.
Already, Rolex could hear Coach Jim make his way towards Rolex.
"Rolex! Kiddo, you hurting?"
Rolling over onto his back, he pounded the field, "No. Just broken." True enough, since as long as he didn't move it didn't hurt.
A medic rushed onto the field and gently probed Rolex's ankle, then taking off the cleat, sock, and shin guard, they gently lifted him onto a stretcher and brought him off the field. "He's not going to be able to play any more for a few months with the way this is looking. We should get him to the hospital so we can get it into a cast."
Coach Jim looked worriedly to Rolex to the game on the field and back to Rolex, "I can't leave, but could you get him there?"
"No, I want to catch the rest of the game. I need to be here."
The medic and Jim exchanged a look, there wasn't much time left and felt that it wouldn't make that much of a difference. An aircast was in place, that would keep it from jarring and as the medic's hand held scanner had shown, nothing had to be shifted, just healed. "Fine, you can stay, but just say when you're ready to leave."
Rolex nodded his head and turned to the game, but when you're not on the field, you notice certain things that you can block out when in the game. The first was the new chants coming from the stands.
".watch out, your time is out."
"The Watch's battery is dead."
There was no question of who they were taunting and it made Rolex feel even more despair then ever before. This was the only time where he felt like someone, when his teammates didn't poke fun at him out of respect for his abilities on the field. It only gave him a small thrill that they knew who he was, but that feeling was engulfed by the sinking notion that he'd never fit in. His focus now shifting, to those above, Rolex allowed his anger to simmer, he was sick of being an outcast. He hated it. He thought that the taunts would end once he was off the street, but if possible, they had become worse.
Fists clenched, Rolex closed his eyes, channeling all his hatred and anger into a single target. Letting his sense stretch above, he could almost visualize the boys chanting gleefully now that their adversary's key player was out. He zoomed in, till he was looking down the row with the seventeen or so boys booing Rolex. He took in each face of the boy who shouted and screamed, he hated them all for singling him out, but he hated their coach even more for letting them do that, for joining in and chuckling. He saw red. Then poof.like a dream, Rolex opened his eyes, his anger spent - silence reigned for a full minute before screams came forth. Confusion filled Rolex and he turned in his position on the stretcher to stand to look behind him, his broken ankle, seemingly not hurting anymore.
He gasped and his eyes opened wide, nothing remained of the row where the watching team had been. Nothing. The seats were gone, part of the cement was gone, but most notably were the people - nothing remained. Oh my god. What have I done?
The medic stared at the smoking place where his own son had been sitting only minutes before. Shock overcame him and he couldn't move, but as fate would have it, his son was momentarily forgotten as he looked down into the equally shocked face of the boy who'd broken his ankle. The boy was standing without aid, a quick glance at the scanner on the aircast showed that the fracture no longer existed. It too, seemed to have vanished without a trace.
Next Week
"That's it! All pencils down and papers flipped over," Mr. Bordeau shouted out. He quickly went up and down the aisles to collect the papers, lest anyone cheat. He of course, picked up Rolex's last and when he reached Rolex's desk he looked down with scorn at the completed paper. "Ah, Rolex the watch. I see you finished your paper. That must have been quite a feat to accomplish, considering you haven't been in class much this week."
Rolex lifted a brow as he added his paper to the pile in Mr. Bordeau's hands, "Actually, it wasn't that difficult." Then in a more conspiratorial voice he added, "You may want to make the tests a little harder, that really was nothing to look at."
The kids nearby giggled into their hands, which they quickly quelled when Mr. Bordeau gave them a withering glare. "We shall see how tough the test was once the marks are in, Rolex." He began walking away, then turned around slowly, an evil smirk marking his pocked face, "In fact, why don't we mark this thing right now?" Most of the students groaned in response to this, but Mr. Bordeau ignored this and stated, "I think I'll start with yours, Rolex."
Rolex shrugged and leaned back in his seat.
Turning red in the face, Mr. Bordeau stomped back to his desk where he pulled out the answer key and slid it into the computer processor, then he ran the hand held scanner over Rolex's multiple choice answer sheet. Normally a beep would signal an incorrect answer, but not a sound could be heard through the now quiet class. The silence deepened as every single student realized that Rolex had aced his mid-term exam - something that was unheard of until now.
Mr. Bordeau stood so quickly that many of the kids flinched. "Rolex, I don't know how, but you managed to somehow cheat. I don't care what you say, there's no way anyone can ace that test."
Rolex felt his anger rise to the occasion, but he refused it to be released and instead clenched his fists until they went white.
Coming round to face and stare Rolex down, Mr. Bordeau slapped Rolex in the face, "How dare you cheat in my class!?"
Ok, now was the time to let some anger show. Other than the red blotch on his cheek, Rolex showed no sign of noticing the action. "If you ever say I cheated or touch me again, I swear to god that I will be the one to put you into your grave. I have my own set of beliefs, cheating isn't on that list - I know that you hate me, despise me. And frankly, those are my exact feelings towards you. You set me up at every corner possible, always giving me a 'way to cheat'. Picking my paper up last, turning your back on me so that I can 'copy' from someone else. You make me look bad by making me stand out for my faults, faults that every other kid here has. 'Tuck your shirt in, straighten your sweater, tie your shoes.' as you well know, the list continues." His voice rose with every word, "You didn't even tell me about this goddamned exam! You just can't picture a streeter like me could be acing everything come his way!"
Mr. Bordeau's colouring deepened to a sickly shade of purple, but despite his raging colouring, he quietly said to the whispering class, all the while keeping his stormy glare set on Rolex, "Class is dismissed. And have a very Merry Christmas." Rolex didn't move, knowing full well what was coming.
"Rolex, don't leave just yet, I want a word with you."
Once everyone had cleared the room, Rolex stood still before his teacher's desk. Mr. Bordeau stonily stared at Rolex, "How did I ever end up with you?"
Rolex didn't dare answer, aware that anything he said would only further anger his teacher.
"Look at me while I am speaking to you!" Mr. Bordeau barked out.
Turning dull eyes towards his teacher, Rolex kept his face blank, void of emotion. He'd already got himself into more trouble than he could get himself out of now.
Mr. Bordeau sighed forcefully, an act of regretfulness, "I am willing to try to start anew, however, it will mean that you will have to put in two hours of your time every day after school. This of course does mean that you'll have to give up soccer."
Rolex remained silent.
"Well?"
"If you think that I will give up the one I love and that actually gives me pleasure, you are sadly mistaken. Besides, what would I do with two hours of time with you? It's not like I need to study. You and I know full well that I'm getting over one hundred percent in this course."
It was Mr. Bordeau's turn to shrug, "Cheating only gets you so far, Rolex. Personally, I would think that you'd be eager to get some extra time in to study on your own, now that I know your little secret, you won't be able to cheat anymore. You should be thanking me."
Rolex gritted his teeth, "I told you don't cheat."
"So you say. I'm going to make you apologize to the entire school when school starts up again - for cheating."
"I'd kill you before I ever make another false speech, such as the one today."
"Then wish me dead."
"I do."
"That's enough Brad." Tony had prevented Brad from swinging at Rolex.
"Aw Tony, c'mon. The guy's a freak, a street kid - a streeter!" Brad whined.
Tony shook his head and tightened his grip on Brad's fist. No words were needed, just the silent threat.
Rolex opened his mouth to thank Tony, the soccer pro as everyone knew him as, but received an icy glare from the boy in question and he shut his mouth on the acknowledgement. Nothing had changed. Rolex had thought at one point that he and Tony would eventually become fast friends, but nothing ever came of it. Tony was ever quiet, like a lion sneaking up on its prey, never alarming the enemy until the last second. Tony was there, but he wasn't - standing right beside you, but for all the conversation in the world, never joining in. He listened, and only when necessary added a few mind-directing comments.
Tony turned on Rolex, "And you.if you know what's good for you, you may want to quit living."
Rolex snorted, "I may want to with a remark like that. You want to decode it for me?" A couple of the boys nearby snickered; the weekly ritual of the 'battle of the words'. It had never ceased from the first day at soccer trials.
"You want to run that by me again?"
Rolex shrugged, "Sure. I don't grasp the degree of your threat."
Tony's fists clenched by his sides and he faced Brad once more, "Ok, so forget what I said."
Brad grinned and took a step forward, rubbing his hands in glee, "I don't care if we have the tournament this weekend, I'm going to hurt you so bad this time you won't be breathing on your own at the end of this."
Rolex grinned back at the angry face of Brad, "Too bad, Brad."
Brad's fists lowered slightly, becoming slightly unnerved, "What now?"
Cocking his head slightly to the side, Rolex's grin widened, "Bells' gonna ring." And sure enough, the bell went off, causing Brad to lower his fists to his side, aware now that the teachers were looking their way since they weren't moving to go inside. "How cliché is that? 'Saved by the bell'."
Trotting by the gang of boys straggling back in, Rolex sighed in relief. Nothing ever changed. Day after day he was still the street kid. Nothing he did would ever change that. He was brilliant, athletic; perfect in every sense that a twelve year old could be. But everyone always blamed it on the fact that he was still a street kid.
He'd been at school for a little over four months now; Christmas was just around the bend. In all the four months at school, he'd made nil on progressing forward in the friendship matter. He'd excelled in every subject, especially in athletics, his parents were so proud, but that didn't matter much to Rolex. What he wanted most were some friends.
The teachers had long learned that you could never catch Rolex unawares. He being a streeter, everyone watched him with one eye, and not just the kids. Rolex could appear to be sleeping and still when asked a question out of the blue, he knew every detail. It was incredible. Some of the teachers loved him for studying so hard (what they didn't know was that Rolex had never studied for anything in his life), while other teachers despised him. Mr. Bordeau was no exception. To Rolex, it seemed that it was his life goal to find fault with Rolex.
"Rolex, you're shirt is not tucked in. Tuck it in now!"
Rolex looked at the other students filing into the classroom and into their seats. None of them had theirs tucked in. A slight frown creased his forehead and he let a little of anger show as he looked up into the ghoulish face of Mr. Bordeau. He'd learned long ago not to argue.
"Yes, Mr. Bordeau."
Mr. Bordeau looked down his nose at Rolex, making sure that he did exactly as he'd been told. "Hurry up Rolex, you're making the class late!" He pushed the boy off in the direction of his seat. Walking to the head of the class, Mr. Bordeau smirked and caught Rolex's eye before he began, "I'm sorry class, but as usual, our dear friend Rolex has made us all late again. I'd have him apologize to the class, if you don't mind the hold up."
Many kids cheered at this form of entertainment, Brad guffawed loudly from his seat in the back.
"Stand up, Rolex, and apologize to your classmates."
Taking a deep breath, Rolex stood and gave the class a contrite smile. Then with a flare, and a devilish glint in his eye, he bowed and said in a grand voice, "My dear classmates, you have my most heartfelt apology.I mean, it's not every day that this happens to me." Giggles greeted the ludicrous comment, since it was exactly everyday that he was up and begging pardon from his class. "And so I feel that I must express my regret to each and every one of you."
He proceeded through the list of his class members, "And finally, I get to Tony." He finished with Tony every time, hoping that he'd see some flicker of friendship there. Although he stated his apology in a comical fashion, he meant it from the bottom of his heart, "Tony, you are the idol I look up to everyday. The only person who I consider a friend." Here he added a little sniffle, "If you would accept my apology, then it'd make my whole day a whole lot brighter."
Tony sneered and looked to Mr. Bordeau, "You idiot! Now you've gone and wasted half our class!"
Mr. Bordeau nodded his agreement. Of course he hadn't bothered to interrupt him while he'd been apologizing to the class. "Go to the office, Rolex. That took much too long." He couldn't help but add, "Oh, and Rolex," when he'd gained the boy's full attention he continued, "Have a good weekend."
Rolex raised a brow and quickly left the class, gladly obliging his teacher's directions to the office, this was where he usually spent his math classes
Trudging down the halls seemed to take less time that usual, perhaps it was because Rolex had finally seen a change in Tony's face. Rolex couldn't help but grin.
Rolex stepped off the bus and waved to his 'adopted' mother, Susan. She never failed to meet him at the bus stop to pick him up and he greatly appreciated that. It was nice to have someone look forward to seeing you, she and Carl were the only ones. His mind chastised him, don't forget about Coach Jim.
Susan looked to her son, "Come on, I made your favourite dish."
"Quiche!?" he exclaimed.
His mother nodded.
"Right on!"
Susan couldn't quite figure out how such a kid could like quiche, she, herself despised the food, whereas Carl.well Carl she could never tell anything with. She rested her hand on Rolex's shoulder as they made their way to the vehicle. The car, the latest of Hyundai's hybrid hover series, seemed to sit on invisible wheels, floating there on an even more invisible breeze.
"Can I open the doors mom? Please?"
Susan laughed and handed him the remote. He took it gleefully and pressed a button, the doors slid effortlessly above and behind the top of the car. "Coooool!"
"Ok, little star, time we get going. Only a few hours before the game time."
Rested and excited, Rolex stretched his achilles and bounced on his toes, concerning himself on keeping warm in the change room rather than on the game ahead. This was the deciding game for the winner of the pool, unfortunately, as things often turn out with the drawing of teams for pools, the two best teams of the city ended up being in the same pool. How that happened, no one knew for sure, but there were two certain teams that were absolutely enraged about the matter.
Coach Jim entered the room, his clipboard tucked under his elbow. "Ok boys, I know you hate this, especially knowing that we have to beat a team that we should be playing in the finals, but we have to win this game in order to move on. I'm proud of how far we've come this past year, especially considering the number of rookies," he nodded to Rolex, "whether you win this game or not, though, I'll still be proud of you. The key thing to remember, however, is that this team will want to win this game just as much, if not more, because they've been coming in second in all the standings to us all year. They're a tough team, there's no doubt about that, but we have the pride, the determination, the drive and definitely the skill to win this. No holding back. Now, do we want this!?"
"YEAH!" came the reply from every boy, shouting out his frustration and nervousness.
"Good, then that should be a lengthy enough speech." They giggled neurotically. Mentally Coach Jim shook his head and thought, damn, these kids were higher than a man on the moon. "Ok, then let's get this game going!"
They charged out of the change room like bulls, their cleats clacking loudly on the cement as they ran down the hallway towards the stadium. Once they broke out onto the field many of the rookies paused to take in the hundreds of spectators filling the seats, thousands more were empty, but it didn't matter, the magnitude was still there. Rolex took it in, but didn't act like the others, he didn't want to appear like a gawker. Having warmed up on the warm-up field, they quickly lined up at the center line sang the national anthem then dispersed into their positions, while the rest jogged over to the bench. Rolex bounced on his toes once more, keeping his muscles from seizing up, despite being in a stadium with the winds being blocked, it was still cold. As the ref walked onto the field in his black and white garb, Rolex couldn't help but grin, twelve years old and being treated like an all-star athlete, the only thing missing were the Scouts - those would be at the state championships.
The two flags-men strutted over to the edge of the field and waved their bright flags signaling that they were ready, then the ref called down to the goalies and asked if they were ready, they all were ready. Feeling his nervousness take a plunge down into his stomach, Rolex took a deep breath, hoping to steady his nerves. This was crazy. The sense grew worse when he noted out of the corner of his eye some of the opposing teams from other pools file in to fill in rows of seating. Grimacing, Rolex quickly thought of the older plays they used to start a game, he didn't want other teams seeing how they began.
He jogged from his center midfield position to where Tony and Craig were waiting for the starting whistle. He wrapped an arm around both Tony and Craig, the only time that either of the boys accepted contact from Rolex, but the important thing was said. For each play, they'd come up with a different action to determine which would be used. Now the entire team knew.
Whistle sounded and the ball was tapped forward with a quick pass back to Rolex. Taking it forward a few steps to draw his check towards him, Rolex then tapped it over to the waiting right mid for a square pass, everything went like clockwork. That had been the goal for Coach Jim and he'd succeeded, finally drilling into the young minds the importance of passing and not hogging the ball for self-gaining. They worked as a single mind.
It wasn't long after that they got a quick goal, an incredible play. With all the confusion in front of the net, Tony had just barely been able snag the ball from a defender and tap it back to Rolex who sent it through a hard arc for the top right corner.
After the third goal, the game deteriorated, the Tornado's lost all heart, Rolex on the other hand, couldn't have felt more exhilarated, and he'd just scored all three goals - his first hat trick. But his spirits were quickly dashed and soon joined those of the Tornado's, when he began to hear to faint chants of the teams watching from above.
".Bays United sucks!"
".the Bays won't stays in the game."
Rolex forced the taunts to the back of his mind, blocking out everything except for the game at hand, and encouraged the others to do so when he noticed them faltering. He kept on reminded them that the others were afraid to face them, hence the reason for their shouts.
Rolex was on a break away, carrying the ball from well behind center to beyond. All that was before him was the goalie, who was uncertainly coming out to block the oncoming force. He sensed somebody coming from behind and jumped, he fleetingly saw somebody slide beneath him before his momentum carried him above the defender towards the ball again, but he sensed to late the other defender crashing into him from the side. Still in the air, Rolex felt the oxygen punched out of his lungs as the heavy defender crushed him under his body. Something cracked in the process, both Rolex and the defender could hear it, but he wasn't certain whose bone had been broken.
The defender rolled off of Rolex and hastily apologized and offered him a hand up since the whistle had been blown. Reaching up, Rolex accepted it and pulled himself up, but he quickly fell to his knees as a blaring pain shot from his ankle up to his head. Almost sarcastically, his mind said to himself, Ok, so it's my bone that broke - great!
"Ah, Jesus. Are you ok?"
Gritting his teeth, Rolex shook his head and buried his fists into his eyes.
Already, Rolex could hear Coach Jim make his way towards Rolex.
"Rolex! Kiddo, you hurting?"
Rolling over onto his back, he pounded the field, "No. Just broken." True enough, since as long as he didn't move it didn't hurt.
A medic rushed onto the field and gently probed Rolex's ankle, then taking off the cleat, sock, and shin guard, they gently lifted him onto a stretcher and brought him off the field. "He's not going to be able to play any more for a few months with the way this is looking. We should get him to the hospital so we can get it into a cast."
Coach Jim looked worriedly to Rolex to the game on the field and back to Rolex, "I can't leave, but could you get him there?"
"No, I want to catch the rest of the game. I need to be here."
The medic and Jim exchanged a look, there wasn't much time left and felt that it wouldn't make that much of a difference. An aircast was in place, that would keep it from jarring and as the medic's hand held scanner had shown, nothing had to be shifted, just healed. "Fine, you can stay, but just say when you're ready to leave."
Rolex nodded his head and turned to the game, but when you're not on the field, you notice certain things that you can block out when in the game. The first was the new chants coming from the stands.
".watch out, your time is out."
"The Watch's battery is dead."
There was no question of who they were taunting and it made Rolex feel even more despair then ever before. This was the only time where he felt like someone, when his teammates didn't poke fun at him out of respect for his abilities on the field. It only gave him a small thrill that they knew who he was, but that feeling was engulfed by the sinking notion that he'd never fit in. His focus now shifting, to those above, Rolex allowed his anger to simmer, he was sick of being an outcast. He hated it. He thought that the taunts would end once he was off the street, but if possible, they had become worse.
Fists clenched, Rolex closed his eyes, channeling all his hatred and anger into a single target. Letting his sense stretch above, he could almost visualize the boys chanting gleefully now that their adversary's key player was out. He zoomed in, till he was looking down the row with the seventeen or so boys booing Rolex. He took in each face of the boy who shouted and screamed, he hated them all for singling him out, but he hated their coach even more for letting them do that, for joining in and chuckling. He saw red. Then poof.like a dream, Rolex opened his eyes, his anger spent - silence reigned for a full minute before screams came forth. Confusion filled Rolex and he turned in his position on the stretcher to stand to look behind him, his broken ankle, seemingly not hurting anymore.
He gasped and his eyes opened wide, nothing remained of the row where the watching team had been. Nothing. The seats were gone, part of the cement was gone, but most notably were the people - nothing remained. Oh my god. What have I done?
The medic stared at the smoking place where his own son had been sitting only minutes before. Shock overcame him and he couldn't move, but as fate would have it, his son was momentarily forgotten as he looked down into the equally shocked face of the boy who'd broken his ankle. The boy was standing without aid, a quick glance at the scanner on the aircast showed that the fracture no longer existed. It too, seemed to have vanished without a trace.
Next Week
"That's it! All pencils down and papers flipped over," Mr. Bordeau shouted out. He quickly went up and down the aisles to collect the papers, lest anyone cheat. He of course, picked up Rolex's last and when he reached Rolex's desk he looked down with scorn at the completed paper. "Ah, Rolex the watch. I see you finished your paper. That must have been quite a feat to accomplish, considering you haven't been in class much this week."
Rolex lifted a brow as he added his paper to the pile in Mr. Bordeau's hands, "Actually, it wasn't that difficult." Then in a more conspiratorial voice he added, "You may want to make the tests a little harder, that really was nothing to look at."
The kids nearby giggled into their hands, which they quickly quelled when Mr. Bordeau gave them a withering glare. "We shall see how tough the test was once the marks are in, Rolex." He began walking away, then turned around slowly, an evil smirk marking his pocked face, "In fact, why don't we mark this thing right now?" Most of the students groaned in response to this, but Mr. Bordeau ignored this and stated, "I think I'll start with yours, Rolex."
Rolex shrugged and leaned back in his seat.
Turning red in the face, Mr. Bordeau stomped back to his desk where he pulled out the answer key and slid it into the computer processor, then he ran the hand held scanner over Rolex's multiple choice answer sheet. Normally a beep would signal an incorrect answer, but not a sound could be heard through the now quiet class. The silence deepened as every single student realized that Rolex had aced his mid-term exam - something that was unheard of until now.
Mr. Bordeau stood so quickly that many of the kids flinched. "Rolex, I don't know how, but you managed to somehow cheat. I don't care what you say, there's no way anyone can ace that test."
Rolex felt his anger rise to the occasion, but he refused it to be released and instead clenched his fists until they went white.
Coming round to face and stare Rolex down, Mr. Bordeau slapped Rolex in the face, "How dare you cheat in my class!?"
Ok, now was the time to let some anger show. Other than the red blotch on his cheek, Rolex showed no sign of noticing the action. "If you ever say I cheated or touch me again, I swear to god that I will be the one to put you into your grave. I have my own set of beliefs, cheating isn't on that list - I know that you hate me, despise me. And frankly, those are my exact feelings towards you. You set me up at every corner possible, always giving me a 'way to cheat'. Picking my paper up last, turning your back on me so that I can 'copy' from someone else. You make me look bad by making me stand out for my faults, faults that every other kid here has. 'Tuck your shirt in, straighten your sweater, tie your shoes.' as you well know, the list continues." His voice rose with every word, "You didn't even tell me about this goddamned exam! You just can't picture a streeter like me could be acing everything come his way!"
Mr. Bordeau's colouring deepened to a sickly shade of purple, but despite his raging colouring, he quietly said to the whispering class, all the while keeping his stormy glare set on Rolex, "Class is dismissed. And have a very Merry Christmas." Rolex didn't move, knowing full well what was coming.
"Rolex, don't leave just yet, I want a word with you."
Once everyone had cleared the room, Rolex stood still before his teacher's desk. Mr. Bordeau stonily stared at Rolex, "How did I ever end up with you?"
Rolex didn't dare answer, aware that anything he said would only further anger his teacher.
"Look at me while I am speaking to you!" Mr. Bordeau barked out.
Turning dull eyes towards his teacher, Rolex kept his face blank, void of emotion. He'd already got himself into more trouble than he could get himself out of now.
Mr. Bordeau sighed forcefully, an act of regretfulness, "I am willing to try to start anew, however, it will mean that you will have to put in two hours of your time every day after school. This of course does mean that you'll have to give up soccer."
Rolex remained silent.
"Well?"
"If you think that I will give up the one I love and that actually gives me pleasure, you are sadly mistaken. Besides, what would I do with two hours of time with you? It's not like I need to study. You and I know full well that I'm getting over one hundred percent in this course."
It was Mr. Bordeau's turn to shrug, "Cheating only gets you so far, Rolex. Personally, I would think that you'd be eager to get some extra time in to study on your own, now that I know your little secret, you won't be able to cheat anymore. You should be thanking me."
Rolex gritted his teeth, "I told you don't cheat."
"So you say. I'm going to make you apologize to the entire school when school starts up again - for cheating."
"I'd kill you before I ever make another false speech, such as the one today."
"Then wish me dead."
"I do."