Page 4 of Strong Side

Or just fuck you.

“Back. Off.”

I lower my head so it’s just above his. “Make. Me.”

I’m not exactly sure what it is, but I watch as he wages some sort of internal war within himself. I’m just about to make another smart remark when, suddenly, he blinks, and his hands are on my chest, shoving me backward.

Okay,nowI’m going to punch him.

It only takes another second for me to lunge back and knock him on his ass. The two of us roll around on the ground for a few minutes, throwing half-assed punches before Jax grabs me, and a couple of the junior teammates grab Rocky.

“Enough!” Jax shouts between us. Like me, he rarely gets angry or yells, but when he does, you know to listen the fuck up. “If Coach Taylor sees you, you're both fucking done! Get it the hell together.” Then he turns and looks directly at me. “Leave him alone, okay? He’s had a tough day. Don’t make it worse,” he says low enough for only me to hear.

Jax… always the mediator.

Rocky storms off without another word, and the rest of the team goes about their business pretending like they didn’t see or hear a thing. For the next twenty minutes Jax and I finish our workout, all while he casts me worried glances every few minutes.

I’m a lover, not a fighter. So the fact that I just got in a fistfight with someone is enough to cause my best friend concern. Not just someone… a teammate. Wisely, though, he chooses not to make another comment on it while I spend the rest of our workout replaying the entire interaction over and over again in my head.

I don’t know what it is about Rocky Campos, but he gets under my skin like no one ever has.

One thing I do know, though, I sure as fuck am glad I don’t have to be partners with someone like him.

1. Feel Invincible - Skillet

3

Not So Sweet Serendipity

Rockwell

I’m finishing up one of my papers for the Curriculum and Instructional Design class I’m taking this semester. This is my first assignment and class with this professor, but these upper-level education classes that I thought were going to be grueling, have been so fucking interesting. Doing the coursework has actually been fun. The semester has just started, but with it being volleyball season now, I can’t afford to get behind on classwork.

Choosing history as my major is something everyone’s on my ass about, but it’s the only subject that keepsmy interest long enough for me to comprehend it. Not long ago, I decided to go down the education route to become a high school teacher and, hopefully, a coach one day. More things these rich fucks don’t understand. Maybe if they shared some of that wealth of theirs with the teachers and schools, or just put it back into the communities, our education system wouldn’t be so pathetic. Teachers being heavily underpaid is a major issue in our country, but I have a passion for history and helping kids find the same love I have for it as well.

If I hadn’t had the caring and compassionate teachers that I had all throughout my earlier years, I could have easily slipped through the cracks and become just another drop-out statistic. Having two working parents and a younger sister that requires more care and attention than myself, it sometimes felt like I was pushed to the wayside. The teachers helped pick up any of that slack and mold the man I am today. I want to be able to do that for other kids.

Shutting my laptop and setting it on my desk, I start getting ready to head to the gym. I find one of my Nickelback cropped tees, five-inch inseam athletic shorts, and my lifting shoes and head into the bathroom. I have some unruly hair. I re-wet it to get some of the curls to form again and throw a little gel in it as well. Can’t forget to stop by my full-length mirror to get a picture. I am thebrand rep for the shorts I have on, and I can never pass up an opportunity to throw a rep code out.

??On my way out, I grab my volleyball bag that has all the shit I’ll need for practice after I get done lifting. Not that I’ll be getting a ton of playing time if we’re not just running drills. This not having a partner shit is already getting old.

Heading down the front steps after locking my apartment door, I pull my phone out and call my mom. I haven’t talked to her in a day or two. I try to call and check in at least every other day, mainly to make sure my younger sister, Liliana, isn’t driving my parents completely insane.

My mom, Cassandra, picks up on the second ring. “Hi,Filho, how are you today?” I love hearing my mom speak Portuguese. I miss it so fucking much. I feel a little guilty; I haven’t told her or my dad what happened with Sanders. I’m so in denial it’s not even funny at this point.

I grab the door handle to my basic as fuck Toyota Camry—it may be basic but this thing has gotten me anywhere I’ve needed to go these past three years. “I’ve been better, Momma.” Fuck, I sound so defeated. This isn’t me. I need to get my shit together. I’m still on the team and have my scholarship and health. I need to stop the sulking.

“What’s happened, Rockwell?”

“My partner got in trouble with the law, so he got kicked out of school and, of course, off the team.” I pause for a minute, but she doesn’t fill the silence. She just leaves me the room to keep venting. “I still have my scholarship, and I’m at the top of the list for the alternates, but it just sucks. I have goals, and not being able to play because of Sanders being a pig, royally screws with those plans.” I shouldn’t be talking on the phone and driving, so I quickly throw my Airpod in so I can still talk but have both hands free.

“Foder,I’m so sorry, Rocky. When did this happen?” I let out a schoolgirl giggle; it’ll never not be funny hearing my mom cuss like a sailor.

“Yesterday. This will be the second practice on the sidelines watching. I’m trying to make the best of it and hit the weights even harder to stay ready if I get the opportunity.”

“That’s all you can do. You call if you need something, okay?”

“I will, Momma,amo você.”

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