What I Have to Prove

Content warning: suicidal thoughts

“Fuck, not again.”

I watched helplessly as Sawyer got slammed into the ground. He stayed on the grass for a few seconds, then with a shaky gasp, pushed himself up.

“Sawyer, you good?” I asked, running up and tapping him on the shoulder. “You got knocked down pretty bad.”

He shrugged me off. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Go take five. Rahil’s feeling better; he can sub in for you.”

“No! No, I can’t.”

  “Come on, man. Please.”

“Flynn, stop. I’m fine.”

 Everyone knew he wasn’t. The whole team had noticed it, but I guess I was the only one who cared enough to say something. I mean, as team captain, that was kind of my job.

Even after all those weeks I spent training him at lunch, Sawyer still wasn’t that great at football. He might have been, if he were taller, and had an ounce more testosterone in him, but every single game he got trampled. He always got back on his feet, but I was starting to worry about all that damage to his head. Our helmets didn’t do shit.

I kept an eye on Sawyer for the rest of the plays. He was doing everything right, but he still got railed no matter what, and I was starting to feel it in my bones. I wanted to rip out my own hair; why couldn’t he back off? He was half the size of everyone else on the field.

I won the game for us. That was kind of my thing—I was the top athlete here at Emerall High and I took pride in that. But I also took pride in being a leader, which is why I had to say something to Sawyer. He was going to get himself seriously injured if he didn’t start thinking about his health.

“Sawyer, hang back a minute,” I called out to my teammate—or, I guess, my friend—as the rest of the players headed off the field to the change room.

The little fucker retied his shoes and tried to jog away with the others.

"Sawyer!"

“Nuh, uh,” he said. "Not doing this."

“Hey, we need to talk! Get your ass back here or I’ll kick you off the team.”

That got his attention. His shaking fists revealed how much this meant to him.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove,” I said, “but this needs to stop.”

He wouldn’t face me. “You know what I have to prove.”

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, I knew. But that didn’t make this any better.

“Look,” Sawyer said. “I get that I'm not strong like the other guys. I don’t look like them, I don’t run like them… and I know the team doesn’t want me here. Some don’t even want me at Emerall at all. But I don’t have anything else.”

“Of course they want you here.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Flynn!” Sawyer pushed me, and I took a step back. Normally that wouldn’t be enough to make me stumble, but his aggression caught me off guard. Sawyer had always been a collected person. It was that feat that made Coach hesitant to keep him on the roster in the first place.

“Calm down, man,” I whispered, holding my hands up. He pushed the heels of his hands into his forehead. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, but we both knew he wouldn’t cry. He never cried. I’d seen all my friends fall apart before, but not Sawyer.

“If you want me off the team, I’ll resign,” he said. “I don’t know if that’s better or worse than you kicking me off, but… yeah. I can leave if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stop letting yourself get killed out there! Every time! Why do you keep charging into people? You’re going to get really fucking hurt.”

“Who cares if I get killed?! I’m not making it past high school anyway so what does it matter?”

I felt sick. “You don’t mean that.”

Sawyer glared at me. “I’m barely living as it is.”

“Dude, go to therapy.”

He scoffed. “Therapy won’t fix my body.”

“Are you serious? That’s what this is about? You’ve got to be kidding me, Sawyer.”

“You don’t get it, Flynn!”

He took a few paces then turned back. His chest heaved as he tried to get a grip, and I had to wrangle my own heart into beating at a normal rate.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said. His shaking hand matched his breath. He continued to pace back and forth, gasping for air. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

From the way he said it, I got worried that he wasn’t talking about football. My protective instincts took over, and I pulled Sawyer into a firm hug.

“No, I’m not—” he protested. “You don’t have to—”

“I know why you joined the team,” I said. “But you don’t have to prove anything. And I’m sure it’s really fucking hard to live like this but please, just… keep living. I want you here.”

He sobbed into my jersey. I thought the tears would make me uncomfortable, but instead, I felt a sense of relief.

“I’m giving you the week off,” I said.

“But—”

“Butts are for sitting. I’m giving you the week off.”

He pulled away and crossed his arms.

“I’m giving you the week off,” I said a third time, “because I’m giving everyone a week off. We all could use some rest, and you’re a part of this team whether you like it or not, so I better not see you on the field on Monday.”

“No promises.”

“Sawyer.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.”

I pulled him in for one more hug and gave him a pat on the back.

“Come find me at lunch today, yeah? We’ll go over some plays that won’t get you killed.”