Dear James Potter.
We regret to inform you that you have not made the FIFA Soccer Team this year. You were excellent on the field. Your return tickets will be booked. Please come and collect any equipment you might have left behind at the field.
Please arrive at your Booking Session: 3:00-4:30 PM.
Good luck and we hope to see you on the field again someday,
The FIFA USA Team
James scowled, reading the email. He was the best midfielder in the world. He was better than all the others. Surely this management had to know that? How could they just believe whatever Reed told him?
"James?"
"Dandy, not now. I know what I'm going to do."
"Are you sure?"
James turned on him. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
"You don't have to go to the session today if you don't want to. I can go and receive your belongings."
"And what, you'll listen to Reed's speech about winning and losing?" James snorted, leaning back in his chair. "I'll definitely go."
"It might not be Arnold's fault," Dandy mumbled.
"I saw him with my own eyes," snarled James. "Saying that I was a bully, that I boast about myself, that I have feuds with others. Tell me, Dandy, am I an egotistical brat?"
"Not in the least!" Dandy exclaimed. Then he frowned. "Well, you were kind of one in your school days..."
James rolled his eyes. "First of all, I've grown up. Second of all, you don't know a thing about me in my school days."
"Oh, but maybe I do." He waggled his eyebrows. "You hung out with this dude named Sirius, and another dude named-"
"Shut up. That's not the point. I know what Arnold did. I saw it myself. He's a dirty double crosser. Once I get my hands on him…"
"Just spare him. He's not worth it," Dandy advised.
"Yeah. Fine. I'll just ignore him," sighed James. He rose from his seat, going over to his closet and pulling on an athletic black shirt with matching track pants. "I'm going," he said. "You stay here."
"You sure you don't want me to come?"
"I'm sure," replied James, shrugging on a Nike jacket before getting on the road. As usual, a bunch of photographers started clicking his picture, and news reporters started asking him questions.
"Did you make the FIFA team?"
"James! Word on the street is that the team has been finalized. Did you make the team?"
"What happened with your fight with Reed? Did he start it or did you?"
"Are you going to be on the team?"
James ignored them all and got into his car. His driver got into the front seat. "Take me to the Field."
His driver seemed to understand his mood and drove off without a word. In around ten minutes, they'd arrived. James got out of the car and looked around.
Most of his teammates were on the field, talking and grinning. He ignored them and started heading towards the management building instead.
"Heya, James!"
James sighed impatiently and turned around. Could nobody leave him alone? Then he saw who it was.
Arnold.
His eyes narrowed immediately.
"Hey, James, I'm so sorry that you didn't make the team," he said. "You're like, an amazing player. Way better than me, and I made it, and like... I have no clue why you didn't. Reed must've done something, I'm sure..."
Seriously, did he have no shame?
"Oh yeah?" James asked sarcastically. "You have no clue why I didn't make the team?"
"Honestly," he replied, looking confused. "I really thought you would've."
The. Nerve. Of. Him.
James rolled his eyes and turned away. He just wanted to get his stuff and leave. He wasn't gonna stick around and be the boy everyone pitied.
"J-James! Wait up!"
He didn't. James kept walking, and Arnold finally caught up to him. He grabbed his arm.
"What's wrong? Why aren't you talking to me? I'm your friend."
James turned on him. "Friend? You call me your friend? Why do you even care? Last I checked, I wasn't 'right for this team'."
Arnold's eyes widened. "Who… W-Who told you that?"
"I bully you, right?" snapped James. "I boast about how I'm better than you? I have feuds with all the other players?"
"I… I… James, please, you heard this out of context! Please, listen to me."
"I heard this out of context?" demanded James, taking a step forward. "I heard this out of context?"
"Well…"
"So tell me then, Arnold! What were you doing in the selectors' office the other day, talking about how terrible I was for the team? Please enlighten me."
Arnold quivered. "I'm sorry, James! I really am! Reed forced me to!"
"Oh, did he, now?" James demanded.
"I promise! I didn't want to! I won't do it again."
"Well, you wouldn't need to! You already made the FIFA team, haven't you? Now you're sitting up there, with no concerns…" Then it dawned on him. "Oh. Oh."
"W-What?" Arnold asked, gulping.
James's eyes widened in realization. "You weren't forced, Arnold. You were bribed."
"What?! No!" But the lie was useless.
"Not with money, of course. He gave you a spot on the team, if you helped him get rid of mine." He put his face in the hands. "Of course."
"I didn't come up with the idea!" Arnold cried, looking positively terrified. "Reed forced me! He really did. I'm not lying, James, please…" He looked like he was about to cry, but James didn't feel any pity. He felt disgusted. "Reed told me I had to do it, and then that he would even give me a spot on the team! But first he forced me. He said he would kick me off the team if I didn't, and get me a spot if I did."
James glared at him. "Don't you feel ashamed?"
"I do, James, I do…" Arnold fell to the ground, positively sobbing now. He was shaking. James didn't feel bad for him. How could he? Arnold had basically snatched his job from him, and now he was crying about it? Shouldn't he have thought about that before doing it?
"How did you manage talking to me after that? So chill? How long has this been going on- You know what? I don't even care. I don't want your explanations, or your lies, or your excuses. I'm done."
Arnold shook on the ground. "James, no… You're a great player. You're one of my best friends."
"Shoulda thought about that before spewing lies about me to the selectors, yeah?"
He didn't have anything to say. James knew it, and he didn't really care. He didn't care anymore. Everything was just a big world of grey. Nothing was blurry. Nothing was clear. There wasn't anything.
When James spoke again, his voice was devoid of emotion. It was hollow, yet calm. "Just forget it."
He stormed away into the building and got his belongings before swiftly turning. While walking back, he saw Reed. The two of them stopped just a few feet away from each other. Reed's face was triumphant, but he was hiding it under a mask of calm.
"Hello, James," he greeted, his eyes sparkling with smugness. He'd won, and James knew it. "I'm sorry you didn't make the team. And, oh, sorry for the fight the other day." He bent closer. "It was my fault, and I got in trouble for that. But you know… everyone wins something. And everyone loses something." He leaned back, brushing his coat. "I hope we can remain on good terms after this. We won't see each other much, anyway, so… I'm sorry."
James held his gaze for a few moments. "You're forgiven," he replied. "I wish you all the best at the World Cup." He tilted his head to the side, before adding,
"Without me there, you're going to need it."
Dandy wasn't there when he returned to his apartment, which James was thankful for. For being such an annoying dude, he could actually be pretty sincere when he wanted to.
Or maybe he was just off partying with his friends. He was definitely a party-boy.
Either way, he was thankful that Dandy wasn't there. He'd bombard James with questions, or he'd ask about the soccer, and James didn't want that right now.
But he definitely didn't want to be alone. He wanted to talk to someone and get his mind off… certain things. Because if he was alone, he was probably going to go find Reed (or Arnold, for that matter), and rip him to pieces.
On that note, he realized that he hadn't talked to Lily in ages. She hadn't been replying to most of his texts. The last time they'd talked had been before the team had been announced. He hadn't done anything wrong…
Had he?
Had he really weirded her out the last time?
He sighed, rising from his chair. There was only one way to figure out, and only one way to put things right. He took the elevator down to Lily's floor and rang the bell to her apartment.
She opened the door. She was wearing a large black sweatshirt and pale pink shorts under it, which wasn't really visible. Her sweater dropped until her knees. Her red hair was let loose in wisps, and she was holding a mug of coffee in her hand. She'd really pulled the 'I'm-here-for-a-sleepover' look.
"Hey," he greeted, grinning at her. Now he could finally relax and lose the tension that had been building up around him. "Can I come inside?"
"You can say whatever you have to say from outside," she said in a cold voice.
His grin faded. "What? Why? Lily, what's wrong?"
"Why would I tell you? You might just lie to me again."
"Lie?" A feeling of dread settled into his stomach. She knew. "Lie about what?"
She laughed bitterly. "Yeah. Now you play the dumb card. Go ahead. And I do have a question, by the way. Don't you have anything better to do than play around with me? You're a celebrity, right? The most famous soccer player to walk this Earth? Midfielder James Potter?"
She knew.
Shoot.
This hadn't been part of the plan. Of course she had to figure out. It was kind of obvious, to be honest. It wasn't hard to figure out.
"Lily," he started. "Listen to me. Please-"
"And listen to what?" she demanded. "Be honest. Are you a world famous soccer player or not?"
He sighed. "Lily…"
"Answer my question," she snapped.
"I am. But Lily-"
"Then that's all I need to know. There's nothing else to listen to."
James closed his eyes. Lily had every right to be acting this way. If he was in her place, he'd have been angrier. "I should have told you…"
"But you didn't." She wasn't yelling at him, but he'd rather her have. Her voice was cold, and beyond furious. Her eyes were flickering with danger. "You lied to me and told me you were a stock broker. That day, when you were talking about stress at your work." She glared at him. "You were lying. Again."
"No, Lily, listen. Please. Hear me out. It's not what you think it is."
"I know exactly what it is, James. That day, you were talking about your work being hard for you. You lied. You wanted to get in my good graces. You wanted to be pitied by me. Your work is a stress-free, happy, totally chill thing for you. You were just using me. I never thought you could go so low."
James felt a wrench of pain sting at his gut. He couldn't say anything, but he could feel tears building up in his eyes.
"You lied to me," she started, her fists whitening as they clenched her mug tightly, "pranked me, fooled me, and made me look like an idiot in front of everyone. You didn't tell me that day at the mall. Fine. I get that. But then, at the ice cream truck. You didn't tell me then. When I came over to your apartment… to apologize… you didn't tell me. You even got Marissa in on it. Everyone was playing a prank on me. Right or wrong?"
"Lily, please, listen to me," he pleaded, his eyes wet with tears.
"I can't, James, not anymore. You had a bunch of chances to tell me. You didn't. And it didn't slip your mind, did it?"
"I…"
"Exactly," she said. "You did it for your amusement. For fun. I was just a joke to you. And I thought we were friends."
"We were… We are," whispered James, but when he finally looked into her eyes, he saw.
Not only were they angry, they were hurt. They were hurt that James hadn't told her the truth. That she'd trusted him with her friendship, and he'd ruined the trust.
Why did it hurt him so much?
"Not anymore," whispered Lily, shaking her head. He could see a tear glistening on her cheek, before it rolled down. More pain flashed through him, the guilt twisting at his insides until he didn't know if he could bear it anymore. "Not anymore, Potter."
:)