Everyman—Chapter 4 (Patreon)

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Giovanni walked out of his sixth-period class, heading toward the locker rooms. He just had economics, a subject he wasn’t particularly interested in, but enjoyed because of his teacher. The fellow in question was an old man, already in his sixties. Apparently, the grampa retired a few years ago, but returned when staying at home got too boring.

What interested Giovanni was the elder’s attitude toward him—the boy was almost sure he’d caught on to his schemes. Understandably, none of the other teachers were suspicious. After all, something like a student intentionally getting low marks was too unbelievable.

Shoving such thoughts to the back of his mind, he entered the gymnasium, walking toward the boys’ room. After school, Trivandrum had a compulsory sports period.

At the end of last year, Giovanni quit football, having had enough of the ridiculous ‘team building’ activities. The sport in question wasn’t soccer, nor was it American football. Rather, it was more like rugby, but with some deviations.

This year, he was switching to cross-country. Being a regular runner, he didn’t think he’d suffer too much.

‘Should I just play chess?’

He couldn’t help considering it. It also qualified as an after-school sport and he was already getting daily exercise. Hugo played, so he wouldn’t be doing it alone. However, in the end, he shook his head. The tournaments were notoriously long and usually happened over the weekend.

For cross-country, the most common distance was two leagues. Even if Giovanni ran really slow, it wouldn’t take longer than an hour-and-a-half.

Entering the seventh-graders’ locker room, the noise immediately struck him. The first thing he saw was a handful of football-players, strangling one of their team-mates with a towel. Ignoring the rowdy lot, he headed toward the back, where his locker was located.

“Hey, John!”

From behind him, someone spoke. Turning his head, Giovanni spotted a heavy-set boy, changing into a wool jersey. He was rather tall, though not as abnormal as Bong Silkworm, and was equal parts fat and muscle. His most notable feature was his hands—they were so huge, he looked like he was wearing gloves.

Giovanni suppressed a frown. He didn’t dislike the guy. Rather, he anticipated an argument over him leaving the team.

“Bison.”

The Romani boy greeted him. ‘Bison’ wasn’t his real name, but a nickname he earned because of his freakish strength.

The big lad finished wearing his sports clothes before turning toward Giovanni.

“Bro, are you seriously not playing this year? The team needs you.”

He sounded disappointed.

Giovanni sighed, shaking his head.

“I already told you. I’m not changing my mind either.”

Bison walked over, coming to a standstill a short distance away. Challengingly, he stared into Giovanni’s eyes.

“It was just a joke, dude. You’re throwing a tantrum over nothing.”

His tone was flat.

Giovanni gave him a level look. Being lectured by someone less than half his age was somewhat funny, but he didn’t show it on his face.

“It was a dumbjoke.”

His voice contained a hint of displeasure.

Bison rolled his eyes.

“They grilled me too, you know. And neither of us had it as bad as Snail.”

The person he referred to was a perpetually-tired looking boy with narrow eyes. For his initiation, the seniors dangled him from the gymnasium ceiling by a bungee-chord while the girls' netball team was practicing. If that wasn’t bad enough, they stripped him down to his underwear and made him shout embarrassing moments from his past.

Giovanni shrugged.

“That’s not the point. I joined for football, not other dumb shit.”

He didn’t say anything else, simply staring unblinkingly at Bison.

The red-haired fatty returned his gaze. Dissatisfaction was plain on his face.

“It’s already over, John. Besides, from now on, we won’t have time for that kind of stuff. We already started training.”

After saying his piece, he sat on a stainless-steel bench, wearing his football studs.

Silently, Giovanni loomed behind him, staring over the other boy’s shoulder.

When Bison was done, he stood and left, leaving a single sentence behind.

“Coach wants you to see him before you go home.”

When he was gone, Giovanni went over to his locker, taking out a thin, stretchy shirt, loose shorts and a pair of running shoes. They were issued by the school and colored grey and blue.

When he was done, he headed out the locker room and toward the track field.

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Giovanni surveyed his surroundings, taking in the unfamiliar scenery. The track field was located south, downhill from the school. Along with the football and hockey fields, it was flattened, forming a ‘step’.

“I’m seeing a lot of new faces.”

A short distance away, the middle-aged female coach glanced from student to student. Her gaze briefly locked with Giovanni’s before moving on. While the two weren’t familiar with each other, they’d interacted before. Ms. Streisand was very knowledgeable regarding physical conditioning, regularly lending the football team her expertise.

Giovanni followed her gaze, counting the thirty-something athletes. Trivandrum offered a variety of sports, many with multiple teams. For that reason, this amount could already be considered significant.

He saw about fifteen fifth graders—their short figures and immature faces were easily identifiable. Most likely, the number would reduce as the year went on. Running two leagues, or eight miles, wasn’t that easy. Ms. Streisand wasn’t considerate either, so Giovanni anticipated a few ‘hurlers’ during today’s run.

Toward the end of his ‘inspection’, his gaze landed on a tall, slender girl with light-brown hair in a braid. Her figure wasn’t that eye-catching, having little curves to speak of, but she was undeniably pretty. In a few years, given some time to bloom, she’d be a top-tier beauty.

Giovanni didn’t linger on her for long. He couldn’t remember ever talking to Anna, the girl in question. However, given the two hundred and something seventh graders, and her being in A-class, it wasn’t that strange.

He finished looking around and started stretching, waiting for the coach’s instructions. Currently, Ms. Streisand was talking to a skinny, pale boy with curly hair. Giovanni didn’t know him, but judging by the way they interacted, he must’ve been an old runner.

The Romani boy was attracting a few gazes in return, though he either didn’t notice or care. Having played football for years, his build was far more solid than the other athletes’. He wasn’t bulky by any stretch, but between him and these bean-poles, there was a clear difference.

Eventually, the coach turned and addressed the rest of them.

“For the sake of you first years, we’ll take it easy today. Usually, we’d do two leagues, but we’ll only do one.”

Her tone was generous, like a warden granting amnesty to a group of criminals.

Through his peripheral vision, Giovanni noticed tension draining out of a few students’ postures. However, before they got too comfortable, Ms. Streisand continued.

“Two laps around the school, then you rest. After that, two more. We only have an hour, so you have to hurry.”

When she finished speaking, the lot of kids looked at her, dismayed. The school’s circumference was around half a league, making two laps one league and four laps two. However, an hour was not a lot of time to run that distance. When were they supposed to break?

Ms. Streisand looked at them with an eyebrow raised.

“What are you standing around for? Oh, I get it. You guys must not need a break. In that case, we can chat for a bit longer.”

After she finished, her lips curved into a thin smile.

For a moment, nobody reacted, but then a handful of people broke into a jog, heading toward the rear gates. The rest were attracted by the sudden movement and soon followed their lead.

Ms. Streisand’s promised one league, or two with a break between, was clearly nonsense, but there was nothing to be done. The more experienced athletes didn’t miss the threat implicit in her words—if they didn’t finish their run in the allotted time, there was bound to be punishment.

From experience, Giovanni knew there were worse things than running long distance. One time, his football coach made them duck-walk for an hour, right after losing a game. The next two days, each step he took was complete agony. It was an experience he never wanted to repeat.

Preferring to be low-key, he fell into the middle of the group. He watched idly as the pale youth from earlier, as well as a skinny girl with a pinched face, took the lead.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anna doing the same as him. It was a bit strange, given she was clearly an experienced runner. Surreptitiously, Giovanni noted slender muscle shifting underneath her black tights.

Evidently, Ms. Streisand was no slouch either, although he already knew that. The blond-haired woman easily kept up with them. Her face showed about as much strain as someone taking a walk in their back-yard—that is to say, none.

Giovanni watched the scenery pass by, feeling relaxed. During the run, it became clear why Trivandrum was known as the evergreen school. The groundkeepers’ tender care and the temperate weather resulted in a breathtaking natural landscape.

‘I don’t miss football at all.’

At that moment, those were his true feelings. He didn’t regret changing sports in the least.

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