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It was just basketball. He had played the sport nearly every day for three years, so why was he scared now?
Oh, right. It was because Billy was here, the same Billy that had beat him up a month ago.
Steve knew that it was going to be bad as soon as he came back to school after that night, although Billy promised Max that he would leave them alone, he knew that he was clearly still going to be bothered by Billy. He just wished that it wasn’t going to be in front of a huge audience.
They were just about to play one of the most important games of the year, not yet the championship game, but it was the game that would determine if they got that far. Steve was looking forward to it, until Billy kept on giving him looks in the changing room, whispers of “I’ll kill you.” passing from his lips. Steve looked away, focusing on tying his shoes and preparing for the game.
The coach was soon in the changing room, talking about what to expect, giving them all the classic pep talk, but Steve couldn’t pay attention. All he could see was Billy’s hateful eyes staring at him, as if he was inspecting his next meal, like a lion eyeing its prey.
Steve wished that this would happen any other day. He could hear the crowd outside, filled with people that he knew, people that were going to cheer him on, and his schoolmates, all of whom would make fun of him if Billy beat him up again.
Steve didn’t care about that. King Steve had died long ago, he didn’t care about what they thought of him. Not at all.
He sighed, knowing that he was lying to himself, and followed the coach out to the court, to the screams of excitement that followed as the team was made visible. Billy ran past him, shoving Steve gently to the side, and Steve frowned, not saying a word.
“Good luck, Harrington.” Billy said quietly, though it wasn’t gentle. It was more like a hiss.
Steve didn’t respond to him.
After the coach had run through the starting positions, Steve being center, Billy the power forward, the ball was tossed in the air, the game beginning. He could hear cheers of delight as he managed to get the ball to the Hawkins end of the court, and they had possession.
Billy got the ball, and began dribbling it forward, refusing to pass to Steve and made his way through the opposing team, a tangle of arms instantly blocking him from getting the shot. Steve was getting worried, he was wide open and Billy wouldn’t pass to him? Was this a sign of hate or was he going to make a huge embarrassment of the team but refusing to share the ball?
“Under! To me!” Steve yelled, and Billy complied, passing the ball to Steve, who took it and sank a three pointer.
The crowd screamed in delight, and they ran back to their end of the court, adrenaline flooding Steve’s veins. Steve had nearly forgotten about Billy’s threats earlier. But only nearly.
“Nice shot, Harrington.” Billy said with a grin, and Steve resisted the urge to punch him in the face.
“You need to work with us, you need to pass the ball sooner! Don’t go solo like that.”
“What, are you jealous?”
Then they were back to the game, and the rest of it was a blur to him. It followed the same drill, but all in different orders. Run, defend, shoot, pass. It was easy to fall into the habit of things, and he was enjoying himself. This. This is what he lived for.
Yet Billy’s threats still lingered on his mind, like a shadow following him with every step. He was wondering when he would strike, and if it would be fatal.
The score had evened out by the time they had half time, the coach bringing them all in to talk strategy. Steve listened, yet looked out to the crowd, knowing that Nancy wouldn’t be there but hoping all of the same. Although Billy was going to hurt him at any second, he still wanted her to see him succeed in something. Prove that he was worth more than what she thought.
He didn’t see her, or anyone else that he half expected to see there. No Dustin. No Max. No Lucas. He tried not to be disappointed, they had other things to do, and who cared if they had shown a semi-interest in it, especially Lucas?
Who he did see shocked him to the core.
His parents. His parents were at the game, watching him from the bleachers. He could feel his mother’s gaze watching him, no doubt studying him with her crucial eye, judging everything about him like she always did. His father was focused on the scoreboard, shaking his head at Steve when he caught his eye.
It was tied out. It wasn’t even a bad game. Why was he so disappointed?
It was this thought, this urge to make his father proud that got him back on the court, though he was rattled to the bone in their presence.
He had completely forgotten about Billy. It was his first mistake.
They were playing the game once again, pressing into the opposition's court, bodies everywhere as the Hawkins players passed the ball back and forth, dribbling around, trying to get a good vantage point for a shot. In an instant, Steve felt someone run right into him, directly into his chest, blowing the wind out of him, and knocking him to the ground.
He could see Billy’s grin as he went down, Steve slamming into the ground with a crack and a pop, pain bursting forth in his shoulder. He blacked out, if only for a second, a cry of agony catching in his throat, the sounds around him growing soft as his world became nothing but a shrill noise and bursts of intense pain.
As his vision began to clear, the first thing he saw was his father rush out of the building, shaking his head, his mother following him, not even glancing back at her son to see if he was okay.
He tried to breath through the pain, his shoulder screaming in protest as he tried to get up but couldn’t. His hearing came back gradually, a piercing of a whistle cutting through the confusion his world had become, his coach standing in front of him, his face blurry.
“Harrington! Can you hear me, son?”
Steve nodded, groaning as more pain flared up as he did so. He raised his hand to hold his head, but his shoulder burned at the effort, so he let it drop.
“Can you stand? We need you off the court, and then we’ll get you checked out.”
The coach raised his hand, and Steve took it with his better hand, leaning on the other man for support as he was basically carried off the court. He could hear the crowd screaming in anger, no doubt worried about the game now, as one of the star players was out for the count. As Steve walked by Billy, the blond smiled.
“Take your time resting, Harrington. You might need it.”
“Get back on the court, Hargrove. Jones, can you get him to the locker room?”
Benson Jones, a freshman who was good enough to play with the seniors, nodded, taking Steve from the coach’s grip and half carried, half dragged him to the security of the smelly room, away from the prying eyes of the crowd and the opposition. Steve could vaguely hear when the gameplay began, and was set down on a bench, holding back a whine as the movement shook his shoulder.
“Are you okay, Steve?” Benson asked, and Steve nodded, not wanting to dump his problems on this freshman.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll still get a nurse, though. I think you may have dislocated your shoulder.”
“What?”
Benson reached over and moved Steve’s shoulder out of place, and Steve flinched away, nearly puking at the sight of his shoulder moving around, like it wasn’t attached anymore. He guessed that it wasn’t, though. And, it hurt more than anything.
Yeah, he definitely needed a nurse.
Benson sat down on the bench across from him, shyly muttering a sorry, which Steve passed off with a wave of his hand, using his good arm.
“I saw Billy do it.” Benson said softly, as if Billy could hear them now. “Did you want me to tell Coach?”
Steve shook his head. “No, then you’ll be on his hit list.”
“But what he did…it could have hurt you even worse. You got lucky.”
Steve groaned as he held his arm, making sure that he didn’t move it much and aggravate his shoulder even more.
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he then turned to the younger basketball player in front of him. “It’ll be okay. It’s not my first rodeo.”
Benson nodded hesitantly, getting to his feet. “I’ll get the nurse, then. And, Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“I just…I hope you get better.”
Stee managed a smile. “Thanks.”
“And don’t move. It might make it worse.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
As the kid left, Steve closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder and head. But, he didn’t know what hurt more. The physical pain of being hit by Billy, again, or the emotional pain, knowing that his parents saw him fall and left without a word, as if he had disappointed them by getting hurt.
He sighed. He was never the lucky one. He was always the one taking the hit. He was the one with parents that pretended to care, but didn’t, didn’t even care when he was in pain, when he was on the floor in agony. He was the one that Billy had decided to target.
Suddenly, he was thankful that Nancy and the others weren't there. They didn’t have to see how big of a failure that he was.
But, one thought passed his mind clearer than anything. It was better for him to be this person, the person that was a disappointment, a target, than to have anyone else fall to this torture. He would take it, he wanted to take it, if it saved someone else the pain. Even if it meant sitting alone in a locker room, waiting for help, in so, so much suffering and discomfort.
He would take it. He was the punching bag. He would take it. And he would do it without complaint.
Always without complaint.