Westly's eyes fluttered open as golden light poured through his window. He sat up slowly, stretching the stiffness from his limbs. His heart fluttered with excitement as he shuffled through his morning routine—brushing his teeth, washing his face, and slipping into his clothes. Today felt different—because it was different. He'd made the track team. *He actually made it. 'I actually made it... I'm not dreaming, right?' he thought, the corners of his lips curling upward. In the kitchen, a plate sat waiting for him with a note that read, "Eat before school." It was his mother's handwriting, though she wasn't home—typical. Bacon and eggs again.
As he ate in silence, he couldn't help but think, 'She only remembers I exist when it's convenient.' Still, the warm food was better than nothing.
After arriving at school on the way to class, Westly spotted Coach Emerson by the gym entrance. Nervously, he approached the gruff old man. "Am I actually on the team, sir...?" Coach Emerson looked down at him, unimpressed. "Boy, if I said you're on the team, then you're on the damn team. Don't ask me no stupid questions like that again, son." He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Now get to class before I make you run more hills than yesterday." Westly nodded quickly, backing away. 'Okay, confirmed. Definitely on the team. No need to get cussed out again.'
He headed to his first class, steeling himself. The memory of Chad, Jacob, and especially Steven flashed in his head. 'Please don't be waiting this time...' he thought. As he passed Chad's desk, he kept his head low and moved quickly, narrowly avoiding a potential trip or a beating like last time.
When the lunch bell rang, Westly's stomach growled like a beast. He might've been trying to lose weight, but he still loved food—yes, even school food.
After grabbing his tray, he started toward the empty table he sat at the day before, but was cut off by a familiar, unwelcome trio. "Well, well, if it isn't the human beanbag," Chad sneered, his sharp features twisted into a smirk.
"Hey, I think he jiggles when he walks!" Jacob snickered, elbowing Chad.
Steven gave a weird giggle, inching too close to Westly. "He's kinda cute though. Like a squishy little marshmallow." He licked his lips in an exaggerated way.
"Bro!" Jacob recoiled, grimacing. "What is WRONG with you?" Before they could escalate, a voice cut through the tension like a knife. "You know, it's kinda pathetic when you're picking on someone smaller than you." Jaylen stood behind them, arms crossed, a dangerous smirk on his face. His tall frame and dyed red hair made him impossible to ignore, and those gray eyes shimmered with something unreadable.
Chad stiffened. Even he had heard the rumors about Jaylen fights, suspensions, and a bunch of crazy stuff from his last school. "Tch... whatever," Chad muttered, backing off. Jacob followed, grumbling, and Steven winked at Westly before skipping off after them.
Jaylen turned to Westly and nodded for him to follow. "Why do you let them pick on you like that?" "Um... they're a lot bigger than me," Westly muttered, clutching his tray. "Even if there was just one of them, I probably still wouldn't fight back..."
Jaylen glanced at him sideways, then shrugged. "Fair. But you gotta start standing your ground, man. They feed off fear." They reached a table where Layla, Ethan, Lia, and Liam were already seated. Layla, with her golden-brown pigtails and those bright green eyes, looked surprised but offered a warm smile.
"Westly where did you come from!" Said Layla she seemed pretty happy to see him
Westly looks up at jaylen nervously hoping they he won't tell them that he was being bullied. His nervousness goes away as Jaylen begins to speak "We ran into each other so I just decide to bring him over here to have lunch with us"
"Hey, Westly! You made it!" "Looks like Jaylen snatched you just in time," said Liam, the boy twin with short blond hair and a playful grin.
Lia, his sister, nodded. "We were just talking about practice. You ready to sweat again?"
Ethan, quiet as ever with his auburn hair and hawk-like nose, looked up from his sandwich. "Let's just hope Coach doesn't kill us out there." Westly smiled shyly as he sat down. 'Maybe they do want to be friends…' he thought. 'Maybe I really belong here.'
They spent the rest of lunch talking and laughing mostly about their assigned events: Layla in the 800-meter, Lia in the 400-meter dash, and the boys all on the relay. For the first time in a long while, Westly felt like part of something. Something real.