If I had a friend to ask, I’d pose the obvious question about what the kids do who aren’t in any clubs or on any teams, but I don’t. There are a few kids who don’t look like they’re showing off any particular attire, but once I see a bunch together, I realize they’re the skaters, and they’re just dressed the same way they always are, wallet chains and all.

I get it, how so much of who we are is shaped by what we spend our time doing—me and football, Sage and baking, Morgan and cosplay, Amber and cheerleading—but what happens when you don’t spend your time that way anymore? I’m not gonna stop being a person just because I stop doing the thing I love most in the world.

I’m pretty sure.

I’d kill for a weight-lifting period right now, something I’ll keep doing even after I’m gone from this team, from this sport, but there’s no lifting on game day, and I’m not about to break those rules. I’m going out on my own terms, which means resisting the urge to skip American history and sneak out to the weight room.

Instead, I sit through class, thinking, as usual, of how much of our collective history is bullshit, which in turn makes me antsy to go to college so I can get the education I’ve been missing out on, which of course brings me back to sports and the way I was planning to afford college.…

Not that a football scholarship was ever a real question. I’m not stupid enough to think a scout happening to be there was gonna suddenly change that. (I might be stupid enough to dream about it, but I’m not stupid enough not to know it’s nothing more than a dream.) But I need to be able to walk on to some school’s softball team in the spring, or I can kiss that dream goodbye. Coach Sundstrom guaranteed I’d be able to do that in Atherton, but Coach Witherspoon at Butler is the vindictive type, and even though she’s technically never had to go a season without me (and still wouldn’t if I make it back this month), she might just be pissed enough at me for bailing to refuse to give my spot back.

Why is it that no matter how I look at this, no matter what I do, I’m well and truly fucked?

History blends into calculus and it doesn’t help that absolutely no one is listening to a damn thing a single teacher has to say today. Even the teachers clearly don’t wanna be doing this. Mr. Koenig literally points to equations on the board with a foam finger.