Inevitably Yours

MICHAEL

“Mr. Galbraith, I’m sorry, but your credits do not neatly transfer to our school. With your last school using block scheduling, the short stint at a second school, and the different curriculum requirements here, you’re technically a Junior.”

I was seething. I’d been listening to this guidance counselor pick apart my transcripts compared to this new school’s curriculum for over thirty minutes. My last school was structured like college, with only four classes per semester. The school we’d temporarily transferred to had the same, but I had to take whatever classes were available due to enrolling after the year began. Now, this guy was looking at me and telling me I wasn’t a Senior anymore because of it.

He looked over his glasses at me before peering down at his computer and clicking around, “The best I can do is keep you in wrestling. Your time in marching band and choir will have to come to an end, unfortunately. I know those classes are important to you, but I have to put you in a Freshman State History class that you’ve never taken. We require it along with several other classes. You’re going to have to take makeup classes at the facility that does our summer school to catch up to your class, or you won’t graduate on time.”

“What do you mean, ‘keep me in wrestling’? It’s a sport. Why does that have anything to do with my schedule?” I asked, not understanding what he was going on about.

“Sports are considered a physical fitness class here,” he explained, looking at me like he was explaining something to a toddler. “Giving you credit for your past wrestling seasons is one of the only reasons you have enough credits to be a Junior.”

“Fine,” I spat gloomily. “It’s just school. I don’t care.”

“Son, you do care. It’s why we’re here. It was the first school with wrestling we could find in the area. Try not taking it out on the counselor?” Melvin linked me. Now that we officially joined a new pack, Melvin could link all of us. It felt weird to have him randomly popping into my head and like it was one step further from where I wanted to be.

I sat up a little straighter, “Thank you for at least getting me into wrestling. I know it’s not your fault.”

“No need to apologize, young man. If band was taken away from me during my last year in school, I would have been devastated. I’m sorry; I wish I could fix it for you.”

He really did look apologetic, but the realization that I would probably never play saxophone in a band again hit me like a train. Slowly, everything I loved was being plucked away, and I wasn’t prepared for that one. I just wanted to leave now to process everything along with these stupid classes I would have to take.

“It’s about to be the end of seventh period; why don’t we go meet your wrestling coach and get everything hemmed up there?” the counselor asked, opening the door for us.

“I guess,” I grumbled, not looking at anyone else as I stepped through the door and waited to follow him. He led us down a hallway and turned into another. It opened up into the cafeteria on the left, where a team was wrestling in pairs with girls watching on the sidelines. It looked odd to see the mat shoved into the midst of tables with very little room for the girls to stand. I wondered why they were watching anyways.

A huge man was at the center of the mat. Wolves were usually tall, but he stood head and shoulders above all of us. He blew his whistle and told the team the after-school portion of practice would begin in twenty minutes. As we walked toward him, he looked me up and down and walked out to shake the counselor’s hand.

“Well now, who do we have here?” he asked, looking down at me.

“Michael,” I answered plainly, offering my hand. He ignored it.

“I hear you’re that wrestler from up north,” he said, almost sounding like it was a challenge. “I know y’all wrestle up there, but down here, we play football. You like football?”

“Oh Goddess, not this s**t,” I thought. This guy was going to hate me.

“I’ve played to stay in shape for wrestling,” I shrugged. “I start, but it’s not my thing.”

“What the hell do you mean it’s not your thing? The gridiron is every man’s thing. I just coach wrestling because I need a second sport as the offensive coordinator. Most of the team is my players keeping in shape for next year.” This school couldn’t get any better. Did wrestling on a team run by a moron like this even matter?

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said, looking up into his face. “I’m here to wrestle. I’ll graduate before next football season anyways. Why does it matter?”

“Tells me what kinda man you are,” he rumbled, clearly offended.

“I think that’s enough,” Melvin said flatly from behind us. I’d forgotten he was even there. I wasn’t used to a father standing up for me, so I was used to doing it myself. “He doesn’t care about football. It isn’t the end of the world.”

The coach shot him a glare that said otherwise but decided to end his rant for now, “Fine. I’m Coach Tagey. Follow me to get your gear.”

He turned on his heel and strode away with his long legs making it oddly hard to keep up. Once we got outside, we crossed a practice football field and headed to a winding concrete walkway upwards. When we crested the hill, I couldn’t believe what I saw. A small astroturf field sat in front of an enormous building that looked relatively new. It looked like we’d walked up to a college football field house. As we walked in, we passed a doorway that looked like it held the football equipment. It was two stories inside and looked like a sporting goods storeroom with new equipment everywhere.

“Maybe the school cares about sports, even if this loser doesn’t,” Eros posited.

“Who knows,” I returned. “He sucks, though. I miss Coach Ganbar.”

We came upon a shared office that was several hundred square feet with three desks on different walls and a closet next to each. Tagey strode over to what I guessed to be his and ripped it open. Boxes spilled out along with a pile of clothes. Their team priority became crystal clear.

“Size?” he barked at me.

“XL shirt and singlet.”

“Here,” he shoved two shirts, sweatpants, and a singlet into my hands. “You got your own headgear and shoes?”

“I’ll get black or red ones since mine are blue from my last school, but yea, I do have some to practice in for now.”

“No one cares what color your gear is. It’s just wrestling.”

“He cares,” Melvin interjected again before I could respond. It was definitely something I wasn’t used to. Lawrence would have been commiserating about how gay I looked in tights and how I should have been playing football. I could see Tagey and Lawrence getting along really well.

“Whatever,” Tagey sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’ll see you Monday for practice.”

“I can come now-”

“Don’t worry about it. They’ve already gotten started with the assistant coach down there, and I don’t want you distracting them.”

“He’s going to be a problem,” Eros growled, bristling as he paced in the recesses of my mind.

“I’ll just get him on the mat. We’ll watch him drown like all the football players do when they think wrestling is easy,” I replied darkly.

“Is there a Freestyle and Greco club around here?” I asked, remembering I hadn’t been able to find one when I looked.

“The hell are you going on about? Free what?”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes, “The styles of wrestling in the Olympics? What most wrestlers do off-season from Folkstyle? You know, what a competent wrestling coach would-”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“I think we’ll be leaving now,” Melvin interupted, stopping me from going too far.

–

The car was silent for a long while as we drove towards our new home to continue unpacking.

“I know that didn’t go like we’d hoped it would, but you’ve got to try, son,” Melvin finally broke the silence.

“What’s the point?” I asked, not looking at him. I was still watching all of the new scenery whip by us. “It’s basically over. All of the things I love, all of the things I used to escape that house, are gone.”

“You don’t have to escape anymore, son,” Melvin said plaintively. “And you can still wrestle. f**k what that guy thinks. Just go in there and show him you won’t take his s**t. We need to start your Alpha training, but wrestling will only help you in the long run with that.”

“Yea, I guess,” I sighed. I was spent. Moving had taken several days; we kept going back and taking alternate routes just to make sure we weren’t being followed. As far as we could tell, we hadn’t been. Now, we had to be careful about who we talked to and how. My parents were cautious talking to the new Alpha about why we left our pack. The only person I spoke to was Quinn anyways, and she wouldn’t tell anyone. I was sure that would be over when she found a boyfriend, though. She wouldn’t wait on me forever.

“Even if she does, it doesn’t mean she isn’t your mate. It’s not like you’re a virgin yourself,” Eros chimed in. “I won’t know for sure until I see her again, but I’m positive she is.”

“If she is, maybe that’s more reason not to go back. I’d only be putting her in danger.” I lamented, not knowing what to do. I was pretty sure he was right, but what good did it do us now? She was stuck up there with our friends and family, and I was stuck down here with a man I didn’t know, my mom, and my annoying little brother. I should just let her be happy and find another mate.

“I have something for you,” Melvin spoke quietly. “When we get home.”

“Okay?” I said, confused. He hadn’t mentioned anything about this before.

We pulled into the driveway and then into the garage. The sky had opened up, and it was pouring outside the large doorway. I took a deep breath in and enjoyed the scent of the rain. It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. This was my favorite weather other than snow. When we got here, I was quickly told not to expect snow. It only added to the growing list of reasons I did not want to be here.

I opened the door to a mostly dark room, and before my eyes had time to adjust, the light flipped on, and my mom yelled, “Surprise!”

Tyler was sitting in a chair, looking moody but still relieved to see me.

“What’s going -”

“Y’all didn’t get much of a birthday, so consider this a late one,” Melvin told me, pushing me down into a chair at the table.

They pulled several presents from a small pile near my mom and handed them to Tyler and me I. Books, new wrestling shoes, and a few other small gifts. It was a pleasant surprise. I still felt like crap from the meeting earlier at school, but this helped.

“I have one more thing for you, son,” Melvin said.

“And I for you, Tyler,” my mom chimed in.

Melvin handed me a large wrapped box that took up most of the table, while my mom handed Tyler a box that was much smaller.

As I opened the box, my eyes watered at the corners. I’d left my instruments at home when we escaped, and now I was looking at a new guitar. It was stained purple, my favorite color.

“Just because band is over doesn’t mean you can’t still play music,” Melvin told me.

I cleared my throat, but I didn’t know what to say. It took me a long moment, but I finally choked out, “Thanks… Dad.”