The Weight of Secrets - Sam

The locker room felt unusually quiet as I pulled off my football gear, the sting of the game still fresh in my muscles. It had been a tough match—brutal, really. We lost, and the bitterness of it sat heavy in my chest. My shoulders ached from the hits I'd taken, my legs felt like they'd been dragged through cement, and my head pounded with the rhythm of my frustration. Frustrated with myself. Frustrated with the team. Frustrated with how everything lately seemed to be slipping through my fingers like sand and how everything was an argument with my so called friends.

It didn't help that Kyle, Ben, and Brad had been on my case for most of the game. Every missed tackle, every incomplete pass—it didn't matter who was at fault. Somehow, it was always me they decided to blame. Their sharp comments had been relentless, digging under my skin until I felt like I was ready to snap.

The post-game atmosphere didn't do much to soothe the sting. The rest of the team had already showered and left, leaving just a few of us behind. Kyle was laughing too loudly at some joke that wasn't even funny. Ben and Brad were tossing a balled-up sock back and forth, pretending it was a football. The air smelled of sweat and stale deodorant, and their voices bounced off the tiled walls, amplifying my irritation.

I needed a way out. A way to breathe. A way to get some space from everything—and everyone.

As I finished pulling my shirt on, I turned to the guys. My stomach knotted as I spoke, knowing what I was about to say wasn't going to go over well. "I'm not sharing a room with you guys on the ski trip," I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.

The room went still. Kyle stopped mid-laugh, frozen like he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard. Ben and Brad exchanged quick, confused glances, their playful mood vanishing in an instant.

"What?" Ben finally asked, his brows furrowed. "Why not?"

I ran a hand through my hair, the strands still damp from the shower, my eyes focus on the wall anything but meeting their gaze. "I just don't want to," I said, hating how weak it sounded. "I think I'd rather have my own space for the trip."

Brad tilted his head, frowning. "What's the big deal? We've shared rooms for, like, every trip. Why change it up now?"

I didn't have a real answer—or at least not one I could say out loud. It wasn't just about needing space. It was about feeling like I didn't belong anymore. Like I was forcing myself to fit into a group where I didn't quite click. But explaining that to them felt impossible. I couldn't tell them I was tired of their jabs, their assumptions, the constant weight of pretending everything was fine when it wasn't.

Kyle, predictably, wasn't about to let it go. He let out a snide laugh, his grin sharp and mocking. "What, you don't wanna share a room with us because of Jay?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "don't think we haven't noticed you spend all your time with him rather than us these days"

My chest tightened, my stomach twisting into a knot so tight it hurt. "Shut up, Kyle," I snapped, the words out before I could stop them.

But it was too late. The damage was done. Brad's smirk faltered, and Ben looked away like he didn't want to be part of this conversation. The air in the room turned heavy, the kind of tension that felt like it might snap at any second.

Kyle wasn't done, though. He leaned back against the lockers, crossing his arms and grinning like he'd just won something. "I'm just saying," he continued, his voice louder now, "you've been hanging out with him a lot lately. Maybe it's time you admit you're a loser just like him."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I wanted to yell at him, to tell him he didn't know what the hell he was talking about. But I didn't. Because deep down, I knew it wouldn't matter. Kyle wouldn't listen, and Ben and Brad wouldn't back me up.

"I'm just not in the mood for it, alright?" I muttered instead, my voice low and strained. I turned away from them, focusing on shoving my gear into my locker as fast as I could. The clang of the metal door echoed in the room, louder than I intended, but I didn't care.

Brad looked like he wanted to say something else, his mouth opening and closing like he was debating whether to push the issue. Finally, he sighed and shrugged. "Whatever, man. You do you. But it's gonna be weird without you."

Ben didn't seem to care much. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Your loss, dude. We were looking forward to it."

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything else. My paws were shaking as I zipped up my bag, the frustration boiling just under the surface. "I'll see you guys later," I said, my voice flat and emotionless.

As I walked out of the locker room, the cold hallway air hit me like a slap. It should've been a relief to get away, but instead, I felt heavier. Like no matter how far I went, I couldn't outrun the weight of everything that was piling up inside me.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and headed toward the parking lot, hoping to shake off the tension that had been building all afternoon. The sharp chill of the evening air stung my cheeks, but it didn't do much to clear the heavy knot in my chest. I glanced up and froze for a moment when I spotted Alex across the field. His figure stood out in the fading light, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder. It looked like he was heading back from town, the field serving as the central shortcut everyone seemed to use.

Alex walked with an uncharacteristic slowness; his usual easy confidence replaced by something quieter, more subdued. He looked like he was lost in thought, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead of him but not really seeing. I hesitated, unsure if I should say anything, but before I could talk myself out of it, my legs started moving on their own.

I crossed the parking lot and called out, "Hey, can I walk with you?" I tried to keep my tone light, casual, like this wasn't a big deal.

Alex turned toward me, his expression brightening when he saw me. "Sure, man," he said, his voice warm. But then his brow furrowed slightly as he looked me up and down. "You okay? You look like you just ran a marathon."

I let out a weak laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a rough game, you know how it goes."

He nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I've been there. Sometimes it feels like the game follows you off the field, doesn't it?"

We started walking side by side, the field stretching out ahead of us. The silence between us wasn't awkward—it was the kind of silence that felt safe, like I didn't have to fill it with words unless I wanted to, Alex and I were getting closer as friends thanks to the movie nights and I felt we shared a lot in common

The air was crisp, the kind that made your breath visible, and the sun was dipping lower, painting the horizon in streaks of orange and pink. Long shadows stretched across the pavement as we moved toward the edge of the field the cool icy breezy letting you know it was there.

Alex broke the silence after a few minutes. "So," he said, his voice soft but probing, "how's everything at home? Things still... tense?" Jays friends were quickly becoming my new confidants, they didn't know the full picture though.

My stomach twisted at the question. I hadn't told anyone what was really going on. Hell, I hadn't even admitted it to myself properly. But something about Alex—his tone, the way he was looking at me—made the words spill out before I could stop them.

"My parents are getting a divorce," I said quietly, my throat tightening as the admission hung in the cold air. "And I can't stop thinking... like, maybe it's my fault. Like if I'd been better, or if I hadn't been such a mess, they wouldn't be splitting up."

Alex stopped walking, turning to face me. There was no judgment in his expression, only a calm, steady concern.

"Sam," he said firmly, his voice low but resolute, "that's bullshit. This isn't your fault. Your parents' divorce has nothing to do with you. They're the ones making the decision, not you."

I swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in my eyes. "But it feels like it is," I admitted, my voice cracking. "Like if I'd done more, been better at school, not been such a screw-up, maybe they'd still be together. And now it's almost Christmas, and everything's a mess. No one knows where we're spending the holidays. It's like I ruined Christmas for everyone."

"Stop," Alex interrupted, shaking his head. "That's not how this works. You're not responsible for their problems, Sam. You're their kid, not their therapist. They're adults, and whatever's happening between them, it's on them—not you. You didn't ruin anything."

His words were direct, but there was something about the way he said them that made them sink in deeper than I expected. I felt a little lighter, but the weight wasn't entirely gone.

"Thanks for saying that," I murmured. "I just—it's hard to talk about it."

Alex smiled, his expression softening. "Anytime, man. Seriously. But if you want some advice, I'll give you one thing."

I raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering through my haze of frustration. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

He shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're you. And you don't owe anyone an explanation for how you feel—not about your parents, not about who you like, none of it. Just be yourself. And when you're ready to let people in, you do it on your terms. No rush. You don't owe anyone anything."

His words hit me harder than I expected, like a weight I didn't realize I was carrying had been lifted just a little. I'd been so caught up in trying to live up to everyone else's expectations that I hadn't stopped to think about what I needed.

"Thanks, Alex," I said quietly, my voice almost lost in the crisp evening air. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem, man," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "You're good, Sam. We've all got your back, okay?"

As we kept walking, the silence between us returned, but this time it felt lighter, like the weight of my thoughts wasn't quite so heavy. The field eventually gave way to the road, and the town's streetlights flickered on, casting a warm glow over the pavement.

We eventually part ways as we headed differing destinations, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I could handle everything ahead of me. It wouldn't be easy, but with new friends like Alex in my corner, it didn't feel quite so impossible.