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Chapter 5
Lincoln walked home, tired and defeated. Practice had run long again that day, and he'd told his mom that he wanted to start walking home weeks ago. So now here he was trudging home, the muscles in his legs tightening as they threatened to cramp.
He hadn't been drinking enough water, and he knew his mom would hound him for it, but there just wasn't time. He had to give 110% in practice or Coach would chew him up and spit him out.
Lincoln gave a sigh of relief as the old farmhouse came into view. He made his way up the front walk, entering through the old screen door and placing his bag in the closet just off the entry way.
"Mom, I'm home," he called out.
"In the kitchen, honey," came her reply.
He shuffled into the kitchen, and was just about to climb up into one of the bar stools when one of his legs constricted in the worst cramp he'd ever had in his entire life. There was nothing he could do when his right knee buckled, sending him toppling into the floor.
Clarke heard her son's groan, turning to watch as he sank onto the cold tile floor. She rushed to his side, fear gripping her chest.
"Lincoln, baby, what's the matter," she asked, her voice shaking.
"Leg cramp," Lincoln said through gritted teeth.
Clarke immediately ran to the fridge and grabbed a jar of pickles, pouring some juice into a small cup and urged her son to drink it. She made sure he was complying before reaching for his leg and massaging the taut muscles.
After about five minutes, Lincoln finally lay relaxed and exhausted on the kitchen floor. Clarke gave a shuddering breath, standing on shaky legs before helping her son to his feet.
She looked at him, his shoulders sagging and dark circles resting beneath his brown eyes. She knew that something wasn't right, and she'd been waiting patiently for him to tell her, but her patience had run out.
Just as Clarke was about to interrogate her son, the screen door banged open to reveal Raven, Wick, and AJ. The threesome were giggling and talking, stopping silent in the doorway to the kitchen when the tense scene before them came into view.
"Bubba," AJ said, running to his brother, "I got to feed the ducks and I caught a fish and everything."
Clarke watched as her eldest smiled, ruffling his little brother's hair.
"That's great, AJ. I'm glad you had a good time with Aunt Rae and Uncle Wick. Now if you'll all excuse me, I've got homework to do."
The other two adults cast questioning glances Clarke's way as Lincoln exited the room. She shrugged, turning to smile at her little boy.
"Hey buddy, how about you go and play in your room so I can talk to your aunt and uncle, ok?"
"Ok Mom. Bye Auntie Rae, bye Uncle Wick," AJ said before running upstairs.
Clarke sighed, turning to her friends before taking a seat at the kitchen table.
"I don't know what's going on with him. Every time I try to talk to him about it he avoids me," she said worriedly.
"Do you think he's just stressed about school," Raven asked.
"No. He's not eating, I don't think he's sleeping, and today when he got home he had a really bad cramp. He laid in this floor for a good five to ten minutes before I could get him up again, so he's not drinking enough water either."
"Have you met his coach yet," Wick asked.
"No, I was afraid I'd make a scene. Now, I think making a scene is exactly what needs to happen," Clarke said angrily.
"I could talk to him if you'd like," Wick said with a shrug.
To the naïve bystander, Kyle Wick's comment may have been misconstrued as nonchalant. However, one thing Clarke knew was that Wick loved his nephews, and as the only man in their lives he took it upon himself to protect them and her.
"Thank you, Kyle," Clarke said sincerely, "But I need to handle this guy myself. If I do need backup, I'll give you a call."
She watched as her best friend's husband nodded, his jaw set in a firm line as he traced the grain on the old tabletop.
"Maybe call Monty and Harper to see if Dillon's mentioned anything," Raven suggested.
"I hadn't even thought of that! Thanks Rae," Clarke said pulling her phone from her pocket.
She dialed Harper's number, waiting until the other woman picked up.
"Hey Harper, it's Clarke. I was wondering if Dillon has mentioned anything about Lincoln. Something's up and he won't talk to me about it."
"Let me ask him real quick," Harper said.
Clarke waited, drumming her fingers on the tabletop until the other woman's voice sounded again.
"Sorry, Clarke, but he says Lincoln's just kinda dropped off the map. Said he's been avoiding all of their friends and he's either lifting or running every spare minute he gets."
Clarke sighed, "Thanks Harper, tell Monty I said hi."
"Will do," Harper replied, "Good luck with your boy."
"Thanks, talk to you later," Clarke said before hanging up.
"Nothing," Raven asked.
"Nothing I didn't already know. I'll just have to talk to him about it," Clarke said.
The blonde's good intentions never panned out. There was no time for her discussion with Lincoln before bed, and by the time she went to tell him goodnight he was already asleep.
So, Clarke retired to her own bedroom- lying awake for a while until sleep finally claimed her. However, around three o'clock a sound woke her. She sat up in bed, listening intently before finally discovering what it was.
She threw off her covers, running down the hall to Lincoln's room. She was just about to knock, when the noise that woke her sounded again.
"Momma," Lincoln yelled, his voice filled with terror.
Clarke didn't wait another second, barging into the dark room to find her son writhing in bed. She hurried over, turning on his lamp as she reached for him.
"Lincoln," she called, "Lincoln!"
Finally the teen's eyes opened, tears running down his cheeks. Then he was in her arms, hugging her for all he was worth. Clarke ran a tender hand down his back, rocking back and forth as he sobbed.
This reminded her too much of that terrible time shortly after she'd adopted Lincoln when nightmares plagued him every time he closed his eyes. He had them off and on, but it had been years since he'd had one this bad.
"Shhh, you're ok. I'm here," Clarke soothed.
"He took you," Lincoln said brokenly.
Clarke sighed, hugging her son a little bit tighter. She knew the 'he' Lincoln was referring to, and if she had it to do all over again she never would have told her eldest about Finn Collins.
However, she'd felt it necessary years ago when she was still terrified he would find her. She wanted her son to know what he looked like and who he was so they wouldn't be caught unawares.
"It's ok," Clarke said finally, "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."
Lincoln took a shuddering breath, leaning back to look into his mother's eyes.
"It was so real, Mom. You were screaming and he was beating you, and I was six years old again and there was nothing I could do to save you," Lincoln said, terror still shining in his dark eyes.
"Sweetheart, if he was going to come for me he would have done it a long time ago. Plus, I'm the momma, I protect you- not the other way around," Clarke replied as she gently wiped the tears from her son's cheeks.
Lincoln closed his eyes, "Coach wanted me to drop Humanities, but I refused. He's making me work harder, says he won't let me waste my talent."
Clarke felt rage bubble within her. It was that new coach!
"So he's working you to death," she said angrily.
"It's not like that, Mom. He's just trying to make me better," Lincoln said tiredly.
"Lincoln, what he's doing isn't right. He can't punish you for wanting to stay in my class," Clarke seethed.
Her son looked at her, quickly taking her hands in his own, "Please Mom, please promise you won't go yell at him. I can handle this, you don't need to get involved because it will only make it worse."
Clarke sat staring at her son for a moment, the fear in his eyes her undoing.
"Alright, but if he keeps it up I'm going to have a word with the arrogant jerk."
"Thanks, Mom," Lincoln said as he lay back down.
"Are you ok, baby?"
"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep," the teen asked.
"Sure," Clarke answered, staying with him well into the night.
The next morning Clarke was tired and she was angry. Lincoln had looked worse that morning after he'd gotten home from his run, and he hadn't eaten a thing for breakfast.
So, when she bumped into someone in the hallway she wasn't exactly in the mood to apologize- especially when she looked up into the eyes of none other than Coach Bellamy Blake.
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Bellamy had actually made it to work without having to rush that morning. Something finally had Octavia excited to go to school, and he had to admit that he was extremely thankful for what ever that something was.
He had just walked through the large double doors of the high school, on his way to get a printout of all of his players' grades, when he bumped into someone. He looked down, ready to apologize and found the pretty blonde from his first day.
Bellamy smiled, opening his mouth to speak when the woman cut him off.
"Hello Coach Blake," she said icily.
"Hello, I don't think we've been introduced," Bellamy said reaching out his hand.
"I'm Clarke Griffin," the blonde said, ignoring his proffered hand and giving him a heated glare.
All Bellamy could do was stare. Griffin! This was Lincoln's mom? She was nothing like he'd expected, and she seemed awfully young to have a kid that age.
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Griffin," Bellamy said politely.
"It's Miss," Clarke said snidely.
"Oh, well I'm…"
Clarke stared at the man her anger growing as she watched that smug smirk curve his lips, and before she could stop herself she was laying into him harshly.
"Who died and made you king," she hissed.
"Excuse me," Bellamy said in confusion.
"You heard me! What gives you the right to tell my son that he has to drop my class," Clarke asked, her arms crossed and her foot tapping impatiently.
Bellamy felt his hackles rise at the little woman's challenge.
"I'm the coach, I have every right to push one of my players to make him better. Your son is undisciplined, probably from not having a man around the house. He's going to have to learn that he has to work harder to compensate for his upbringing."
Clarke stiffened, "His upbringing?! Are you telling me that I'm a terrible mother?"
Bellamy sighed, "No, that's not what I'm saying at all. Lincoln is a kid with a bright future, but if he continues to waste his time on silly things like art then he can kiss college league goodbye. They want dedicated players, not wishy-washy mama's boys."
Clarke bristled, poking him in the chest to emphasize each word, "Don't tell me how to raise my son!"
Bellamy watched as the woman walked away, scoffing at her words. That woman had just proved what he'd known all along- she was a detriment to her son because she babied him. Kids like Lincoln needed a firm hand to guide them through life, something he'd never had.
His mother had been a single mom too, but she'd been tough as nails. She didn't have time to baby him when she worked three jobs just to keep food on the table and clothes on their backs.
She wasn't like Miss Clarke Griffin, high and mighty. No, his mother had worked herself into an early grave. There had been no time for steady male role models. He'd learned long ago that football and Octavia were the only things he needed, and he would see that Lincoln found that dedication too.
That's why at practice that afternoon, Bellamy found himself standing over his star player as he watched the boy do pushups.
"Keep going Griffin, you need to learn to stop running to your mommy when things get hard," Bellamy said as a chuckle rose up from the group of players standing on the sidelines.
Lincoln forced himself to continue no matter how angry he was or how much his body hurt. He knew that he was going to kill himself if he kept up the hectic pace he'd been stepping for the past month.
With every taunt his coach threw at him, he pushed himself harder. His arms and legs burned, and his teammate's laughter fueled his anger at his mother. He'd told her not to interfere, and yet she'd done so anyway.
"Alright, that's enough," Bellamy said, watching as the young man struggled to his feet.
The coach would admit that the kid looked like crap, but maybe he was just starting to get through to him. He patted Lincoln on the back, missing the way he stumbled forward.
"Hit the showers boys," Bellamy yelled as he made his way to where his two assistants stood.
"I think you're starting to get through to that kid," Miller said with a smile.
"You know what, I think I am," Bellamy said proudly.
"I think you've got it all wrong," Murphy said quietly.
"What do you mean, John," Bellamy asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I just think you don't know that kid like you think you do," Murphy said with a shrug.
"Oh and you do," Bellamy asked snidely.
"Yeah, I've watched him grow as a player from the beginning when Clarke brought him to his first little league practice."
"Clarke is it? Sounds like you know Clarke a little too well," Bellamy said tauntingly.
"No, I've just seen her struggle like the rest of the town but you don't believe me so I'll let you figure that one out on your own," Murphy said as he walked away with a huff.
"You think he's right," Miller asked.
"Nah, I know kids like that Nate. I was that kid when I was growing up. I know what he needs, and I'm going to make sure he gets it. He doesn't need to struggle through the things I did just because no one had the courage to make the hard decisions," Bellamy replied with quiet conviction.
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Lincoln slammed the front door, throwing his bag against the wall as he marched to the stairs. He was sore, he was tired, but most of all he was angry. He felt betrayed, hurt that his mother would go against his wishes- making things harder for him in the process.
He shut his bedroom door, yet again with more force than necessary, and collapsed on his bed. He put his ear buds in, cranking up the music to drown out everything around him.
Clarke heard all the door slamming going on, and somehow knew that her eldest was unhappy with her. She climbed the stairs, knocking on his door. When no answer came, she quietly opened the door- coming face to face with a very angry teenager.
"Hey, Linc, what's…"
"You just had to get involved didn't you," Lincoln seethed, cutting her off.
"I didn't mean to, but…"
"I told you to stay out of it," the teen yelled.
Clarke stared at her son, wondering where all of this sass was coming from.
"Now listen here, young man, you may be angry with me but you know better than to speak to your mother this way."
Lincoln laughed, a harsh and condescending sound, "That's just it! You're not my mother! You're just some poor sucker who got stuck raising a kid you didn't want!"
Clarke swallowed thickly at her son's words, tears burning behind her eyes as she struggled for the words to say.
"There's never been a day that I didn't want you, kiddo," Clarke said softly before turning to go.
Lincoln watched her go, tears gathering in his eyes as he realized what he'd just said. He lay down on the bed, placing the buds back in his ears, and closing his eyes against the guilt that ravaged his heart.
Clarke leaned against the closed door, her hand over her mouth as she struggled to muffle her sobs. Bellamy Blake had been right; she was a terrible mother- that thought alone caused her chest to hitch in pain.
She went to her own room, trying to stop the tears before AJ found her and started asking questions. She washed her face, sucking in a deep breath before making her way downstairs.
Clarke made supper, the house quiet. AJ seemed to sense that something was wrong, and was abnormally subdued as he played with his Legos in the living room.
When Lincoln didn't come down to eat, she took a plate up to him. He refused to open the door- refused to even speak to her. That night, for the first time in years, Clarke Griffin cried herself to sleep.
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