Wrong Decision II

 ¶ Ferdi ¶ 

I watched Karel leave school like he was being chased. He kept one hand inside his hoodie pocket like he was protecting something. His shoulders were tight, every step too fast, like home was another punishment waiting for him. It only doubled my curiosity about that little rascal. 

That's why I've been on my phone, sending tons of messages just to get blocked.

There was just something about his glassy emerald eyes and mint scent with full ginger hair I dreamt of cutting. It made me want to press him to a corner and watch his begging eyes and sharp mouth.

 

The problem was my brain. 

The doctor called it "whatever processing impairment". Dad called it useless. 

The therapist asked me what I felt when mom died. 

I stared at the wall. "Nothing," 

She asked again and I told her the wallpaper was ugly.

But anger? Jealousy? It came through clear as glass.

That's why Karel was dangerous. 

He made static feel like noise. And I hated noise.

I hated that when he walked past me with Dael’s arm over his shoulder my chest did something that wasn’t in the medical files.

So I did what I always did when things got loud. 

I made it worse. I blocked him from the team. 

If I couldn't have him, no one else could watch him run either.

The roster went up that night. His name wasn’t on it. Coach asked me about it in my office. I told him Devan had an attitude problem. Even though his legs moved like a hurricane and his stamina was like a horse. He was tiny though.     

But the truth was I sat in my car for 20 minutes watching his house to see if he’d come out. He didn’t. So I made the whole team run until they puked. 

It wasn’t about them. 

It was about the noise in my head that only shut up when I was punishing him for something, even if he wasn’t there to hear it.

“Don't ignore me.” I typed on the fifth account I created. It got blocked before he even opened the message. 

On the sixth I wasn't even trying to sound threatening anymore. I just wanted him to reply. 

Brandon walked in, jersey in hand. I faced him “You have a spare account?” 

“What do you want it for?” He came forward, eyes darting between the phone and me. 

“None of your business, just do what I asked.”

“It's that boy right?” He squinted his brow at me. Are you done with Zayne?” 

I let out a crooked smile. “Not yet. Besides, Karel hates me.”

“When last did you see a therapist?” Brandon checked my pulse. I shoved his hands away. 

“I'm good, and it's nothing serious.” Saying that came out easy.

 He'd avoided me since Zayne, but too late. I noticed him already. 

My phone chimed, I reached for it sharply. Brandon shook his head, “You're whipped, bro. Dad's gonna like that news.” 

“Shut up, Brandon." I slammed the phone on the table, closed my eyes and wished I could see Pedro's face instead of those emerald. 

Brandon picked up my phone. “Woah, your dad burned down our hideout. He found it out again." 

"Then we get another where no one finds, alert the members. He would start searching.” 

“It'll be too bad if he finds the list.” Brandon scratched his head and I almost slapped him. 

“The gang gets blown up. You get thrown out." I snorted  and he laughed. “Yes boss." 

My phone buzzed again. Not Karel. A number I didn’t save. It could only be Pedro.

The message was a photo. Our hideout. Smoke, charred wood. The spray paint of our tag melted on the wall.

Under it: *You’re sloppy, son.* I deleted it instantly. Pedro loves sending photographs instead of warnings. Pictures always arrive before people disappear. 

“Members are scattered,” Brandon said quietly. “Two got picked up last night.”

“Then we move to warehouse 4. No phones. Cash only.”

“You’re not listening,” Brandon stepped in front of me. “Your dad isn’t playing gang games anymore. He’s playing father games. And he’ll take anything to get to you.”

I looked at him. “He can try.”

But my jaw hurt from clenching. 

Because the last time my father took something from me, I didn’t feel it for 3 days. 

I didn’t want to find out what 3 days without a certain someone felt like.

I exhaled, picking my phone to create more accounts. My thumb hovered. I wanted to type look at me. It was too pathetic. I typed stay away from me. And deleted before I sent. Stupid. So I typed 100 more and sent it to Brandon for the drill list. 

At school, Karel looked through me like I was glass. He didn't even throw me his usual glare, just completely ignored me. His hair fell over his face as he did open drills with Dael, the girl I always wanted to throw inside the sea. My jaw clenched when she tied it up. 

I watched his back. Sweat down his spine. A pale scar disappeared beneath the collar of his jersey. 

My stomach twisted. I looked away fast. I hated scars. I hated wondering who put them there even more. 

Dael laughed at something he said. He didn’t smile. He never smiled. 

But with her he softened. Just 2%. 

That 2% felt like a knife.

“Devan!” I called. My voice carried across the field. Everyone stopped. Karel didn’t. 

So I did it again. Louder this time. “DEVAN. 50 more. Now.”

Brandon stared at me. “He already did 100.”

“Then 150,” I said, eyes still on Karel. “Unless he wants to be benched.”

Karel finally turned. His eyes weren’t angry. They were empty. Too glassy.  

Like he was used to this. 

And that emptiness pissed me off more than the glare ever did.

 Brandon's voice rang in my ears. I jolted from my thoughts. 

“What's up with you? You aren't concentrating and it's draining the team.” Brandon sighed.

 I stood from the steps. "Organize them yourself I'm leaving.” 

I left, Brandon's mouth still agape. He shouted after me when the field jeers were now a  blur. 

“Traitor. You're ditching me now over some dude again."

I didn't answer. I went into the block. Zayne was there leaning on the wall. I wanted to tell him to get lost but he smiled and ran up to me.  "I've been waiting. You didn't reply to my text.” 

I hummed a reply. My body moved without control, when he came closer. “Let's change places. Karel doesn't like it at home."

 I went stiff, my chest suddenly went tight. He talks about me.

 A hot memory flashed in. Karel's groans, he was trying to hold in at the basketball court, his face turned away from me, chest heaving with my movement. It messed with my brain. 

"So where do you want it?" I asked as he circled his hands around my waist. I wanted to pull away. But he was only doing this for money and I have to give it to him because I'm horny and a bastard. 

“Wherever you want it.” Zayne smiled again and he kissed me. I kissed back. I felt nothing, no heat like I used to feel it just tasted like noise. Then emerald eyes flashed across my mind. 

Damn him. 

Zayne's back touched the table and he leaned into me more. My chest felt tight like I'd swallowed poison, I pulled away and staggered to the corner. I took my phone out and texted vice. “If you want your position back, come." 

Zayne laughed against my mouth like he didn't hear the static in my head. “Problem?” He whispered, fingers dragging down my chest. 

I didn't answer. My eyes never left the door. My phone stayed dark. Two minutes turned into five. 

He wasn't coming.

Of course he wasn't. I'd just benched him in the front of the whole team and he saw me going in with Zayne. 

“Ferdi," Zayne tugged my shirt. "Focus.”

I shoved him back. Not hard just enough for him to pull out of his trans. 

“Get out." 

His smile dropped. “What?" 

“Get out. I'll stack your cash." 

He stared at me, then grabbed his bag and slammed the door. The room went quiet. Too quiet. My chest tightened. I picked up my phone. But the creaking sound of the door made me turn. My heartbeat slowed. It wasn't Zayne. Neither was it Brandon. It was no other person but–

Karel