Gary paced around in the changing room deep in thought. Where was everyone? Usually he was pretty on time, but today he'd arrived slightly earlier so that he could practice with Bradley before Barry got there. What he was not expecting was for no-one to be there. He was only five minutes early but he was pacing in there all by himself. The clock's ticks seemed menacing now, every second that passed made Gary feel more and more stressed. What if they didn't turn up?
He decided to try and distract himself to pass the time faster. The Aimes floated softly into his mind, suddenly starting to take over all of his thoughts. He started to wonder how her talk with Barry had gone. He should've gone with her… but then again, it wasn't really his business. She was the Aimes. She could handle herself. Probably…
He sighed and sat down on one of the benches. They were all now a minute late. It wasn't much but Gary started to feel the loneliness set in. Maybe they weren't coming after all… Even the coach was running late, so surely that meant something. Right? He was starting to second guess himself. Apparently stress did that to you. He'd never felt this stressed before, even when his father was trying to set him up with the suitors. He was just about to give up on the others, when Gary realised that they might be out on the field already and that it was an important option to consider before giving up on them. So he decided to trudge out onto the field.
He scanned the field, searching for the yellows and greens of their gym kit. He spotted a few distant yellow jackets in the distance and quickly jogged over to the group that had already started playing without him. How had he managed to mix up the time? Was this not the time he was supposed to show up at?
"What took so long Sheffield?" Barry sneered, "Did you not know that practice started twenty minutes earlier on a Thursday?" He smirked as the other boys either glared at him for delaying the practice or sighing that Barry was bulling Gary again. Gary just stared at him questioningly. Practice started twenty minutes earlier on a Thursday? When had that been a rule?
"Stop picking on him Barry. He's new anyway, how would he know? Let's just play some football okay?" Bradley tried to reason with him, picking up the ball that was next to his foot. Barry glared at him. It was the type of glare in which, if it was pointed at you, you would want to disappear instantly and not care if you made it back. Bradley threw him the ball, brushing off his glare.
"Are you undermining me, Bradley?" Barry hissed, stalking over to him as he threw the ball at the ground in front of him. Bradley didn't seem too concerned about Barry's intimidating stature, but all the rest of the team were frozen, not wanting to move in case it brought Barry's war path onto them. Barry gripped the front of Bradley's shirt and leaned in close. "Don't forget your place." He threatened, voice just loud enough for Gary to try and grasp what he'd said.
In truth, Barry scared him quite a lot. Just the way Barry held himself was enough to make you feel inferior to him. Bradley pushed Barry off, head sort of low. His face contorted into one of regret. How could Barry treat his best friend like that? How could Barry treat anyone like that?
The coach came over and blew the whistle, "Time to hit the showers people!" He bellowed. Already? Was Gary's first thought. How could the football lesson be over already? "I have to go to a staff meeting in five minutes, so if you're not showered and changed by then, I'm locking you in the changing room. Hurry up!" He ordered. A general 'yes sir' followed suit and Barry lead the the jog back to the changing room, shoulder purposefully bumping into Gary's as he passed him. Bradley followed after, also bumping into Gary. Then another and another, they all bumped into him with the collective mindset that if they followed Barry's orders, they wouldn't get treated like Gary.
Gary's shoulders slumped. He'd come to the school to make friends. Actual friends. Yet, here he was, with none. Maybe the friends his father had paid for were better than the ones he made himself. After all, they were better than nothing.