I found myself awake, my heart pounding in my chest. The sterile white ceiling of my bedroom stared back at me, a stark contrast to the vivid nightmare that had just released me from its grip.
I lay there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, the remnants of the dream still clinging to my consciousness. It had all felt so real—the roar of the engine, the laughter with PJ, the blinding headlights, and the catastrophic crash. The panic that had surged through me as I looked over at PJ's bloodied face, the desperate escape into the Alaskan wilderness, and the overwhelming guilt as we sought refuge in a stranger's cabin.
I sat up, rubbing my face with my hands, trying to erase the images that haunted me. The hospital, the stern face of Detective Rodriguez, the interrogation room, and the chilling revelation of a body left at the scene—it was all a tangled mess in my mind.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and glanced at the clock. It was still early morning, the first light of dawn creeping through the curtains. I let out a sigh of relief as I realized it was just a dream, a dark and twisted creation of my subconscious. But even as I did, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. I knew that these weren't just random images from my sleep. They were memories, memories of a time when I had been lost and alone when I had made choices that had led to unspeakable consequences.
With a deep breath, I prepared to start my day, grateful for the second chance that only waking from a nightmare can provide. But as I did, I couldn't help but wonder if the past could ever truly be forgotten.
It was 6:12 AM on Monday, I extended my hand to put down my phone. I had to prepare for the meeting with the Sports Master scheduled for that morning, and I had a hunch that it was related to the incidents from Friday evening.
Struggling to rise, I shuffled along the wall in search of the light switch and flicked it on. After donning a pair of running pants and shoes, I made my way outside.
As the morning light grew, the cold persisted, prompting me to go back and fetch a beanie before embarking on my jog around the neighborhood.
Upon my return, the clock had already struck 7 AM, and I experienced a notable improvement. My daily runs were becoming longer, and my pace was quickening. As I approached one of the apartment doors, I noticed a man affixing an eviction notice due to overdue rent.
I swiftly verified my payment and then examined my account balance—$860. I was experiencing a financial drain, and adapting to the town while discovering its budget-friendly spots was proving to be a gradual process. I was sure that I had overspent on most of the things I had gotten, eating out wasn't helping matters either.
"Frank's notebook," I reminded myself, that might be of some help. I hurriedly went up the staircase, my phone was now vibrating in my pocket, it was my alarm for 7:22. I had to prepare for school.
Navigating the stares and hushed conversations on my way to the locker, it was evident that everyone had suddenly become familiar with Eddie Miller.
"I heard he got knocked out by Mikaela the other day; there's no way he accepts," someone mentioned. "He's going to get destroyed," added another voice.
Having stashed my bag in the locker, I briskly proceeded toward the gym. The space was expectedly deserted, with only the open door at the other end suggesting someone's presence. Despite my efforts, my shoes remained determined to draw attention, persistently squeaking on the polished gym floors as I continued towards the office on the other side.
"Good day sir," I greeted.
He nodded in response handing me a letter. "It's an invitation to a boxing event. Now I spoke with the captain and you're not even on the team, is this a mistake or something?"
"Uh, no sir," I responded.
He reached to pick up the letter, placing it in the slide-out compartment beneath the desk. "Well, I just wanted to confirm. That's all," he said, gesturing for me to exit the office.
"And what about the invitation, sir?"
He looked up again, appearing surprised that I was still present.
"It will be declined."
"But what if I'm interested, sir?"
"Listen, son, there are protocols we adhere to for these matters, okay?" he snapped. "That will be all," he added.
"I wish to accept the offer, sir," I insisted. If I had interpreted the offer correctly, they would be paying $6,500 just to box and $12,500 if I emerged victorious. It was money I could use. It was the money I needed in my face, right there, right then.
He was now looking very closely at me, "This isn't what you think it is son, it's not just show up and 'oh i get $6000', it's the fighting game. You could get seriously hurt."
I took a deep breath. "With all due respect sir, Firstly, it's a sport..."
"Excuse me" he remarked seemingly surprised at my tone.
"It's a sport, not a game, sir. Boxing is not something you play." I continued
"Secondly, I've dedicated most of my life to boxing; I am a fighter. I understand what it means to step into the ring, to risk everything, to put your life on the line for the entertainment of others. So, yes, sir. I am aware it's not just show up and 'oh i get $6000'" I straightened the name plate on his desk.
"So if you don't mind, 'Coach McMahon'." I continued. I'd like to accept the offer. Sir."
I jogged back to my locker, realizing I was already late for my class that morning. Looking down, I took one last glance at the letter in my hand before placing it in the locker. I picked up my bag and headed to class, a smile on my face.
"Mikaela!" I shouted from the clearing parking lot, pausing to catch my breath. The day had come to an end, passing swiftly with classes zooming by and lessons departing even more rapidly.
She appeared from the car, with James waving from the passenger seat. I quickly straightened myself.
"The Boxing team," I said still catching my breath, "I need to join the boxing team."
"Need, that's a pretty strong word, N-E-E-D".
"Not the time bro." I quickly interrupted.
"Not the time for what?" she asked, managing a wry smile.
"Can I join the boxing team or not?"
"I need to join the boxing team, Mikaela, can I please?" she said placing her palm behind her ear and leaning forward.
"What is this a joke to you or something?"
"Later Eddie," she said turning to leave.
"Alright, ok. Please."
"Oughf, now that's just sad, bro," James remarked, shaking his head.
She turned around, and they both burst into laughter. I was the punchline, I was the joke.
"Meet me tomorrow morning, 'champ.' You can't just flag me down in the parking lot like I'm your mom or something," she said as she got into her car. "I swear, I can't deal with these freshmen," she added, speeding off.
I turned around, beginning my walk home. It was the price I had to pay, I had to pay the price the rob a bank, only this time it wasn't a crime, it was legal, legalized bank robbery. In exactly two weeks I would walk away with $12000, no questions asked. The cat would have been skinned.
"Many ways to skin a cat" I muttered managing a smile.
"Long day huh?" Kelly remarked, taking me completely by surprise.
"Kelly!" I exclaimed, feeling the blood rush to my face.
Her smile grew wider. "It's fine, I talk to myself sometimes as well," she reassured, sensing my embarrassment. "Although, I don't usually smile afterwards; that's a bit... peculiar," she added.
I started to laugh and she joined in soon after.
"You're heading home I believe," she asked, securing her laptop to her chest with both hands.
"Yeah-yeah."
"I could...." she started.
"It's.... not so far off, I'll be fine." I interrupted.
"Alright then. See you tomorrow, Edward Miller."
"I'll be looking forward to that, Miss Kelly, Ma'am," I responded, successfully eliciting a giggle.
"It's Eugene. Kelly Eugene."
She waved goodbye got into her car and drove away.
As I walked home, a contagious joy enveloped me. The burdens of the day seemed to lift with each step, and the warm hues of the setting sun mirrored the happiness within. A grin adorned my face, radiating the simple joy that filled me. The well-trodden path felt like a comforting companion, guiding me through this serene journey of contentment. A spontaneous melody escaped my lips, the joyous tunes harmonizing with the rustling leaves.