By following the orders that Pindar gave me on my ever-present cellphone, I began to form the team that we needed. I made the other players hate each other deeply. I would make up rules and calls on the spot to manipulate individuals. None of them ever understood that I was the one controlling the outcome of every play with my black whistle. Full of gut-wrenching competition, the players decided suddenly and unanimously to start playing tackle football instead of touch.
Weeks passed, and I continued to follow Pindar’s orders implicitly. We slowly got the league to where we wanted it to be. Then, one day, it was time to make the final cuts to create our new team.
I’m not sure if they had been there all along, or just from the beginning of the morning, but on the day we were to finalize our team, the parent supervisors returned. There was a tall observation tower by one of the fields where we practiced. The observation platform at the top of the tower stood high amongst the clouds in the bright, shining sunlight. The parents came down the steps of the tall tower in the sky.
The parent supervisors, those who from the heavens came, were not angry at the state of the league, but rather were understanding. They explained to us that the football league was meant to be fun and good-natured, not extremely competitive and violent. They told us that they were proud of us, even though the league had become a mess. And despite the league deteriorating under my leadership, they told me that I had done a good job also. The players would be much more mature, stronger individuals because of what had happened.
The parents had seen Pindar helping me, and told him to leave. The teenager had no choice but to obey the parent supervisors. The parents told me that Pindar was a troublemaker, and was always looking for opportunities to cause problems.
The supervisors helped us to design and purchase flags that could be worn around our waists for the game. With the new flags, I no longer had to officiate the games with the whistle. The flags replaced my calls, and made the game run more smoothly. Slowly, the league returned to its natural and harmonious state, and the players, including myself, grew because of the experience.
As surely as the world turns, change comes upon us. I welcome it at every step, positioning myself to be successful at every juncture in life. I count myself amongst the determined and powerful men who will lead this planet into the future.
I’m packing up my belongings in my bedroom in the fraternity house. I look at my roommate John across the room who’s doing the same. He’s picking up shirts and throwing them into a large, black duffle bag. He makes a comment to me.
“Man, I hate moving. I can’t wait until my Mom gets here tomorrow so she can do this shit for me.” He laughs. I make a slight smirk in return to him as he exits the room to go find a missing shoe.
I barely remember my mother. She died when I was young. I think before she met my father she was a waitress or a bartender. That all changed when she married my father, though. There’s no way he would let his wife work in such a lowly and common position.
She died in a car crash one night after my fifth birthday. I can remember crying at her funeral and my father pulling me aside. He said,
“Be strong, son. The strong will survive. We can survive this and we can survive anything.” He had stared at me with his dark and fierce eyes. I don’t remember him even shedding a tear. I made the decision then to always stay strong. With time, my eyes became fierce and narrowed like his are, but the color blue in my irises, found behind the narrowed walls of my strength, is from my mother. Sometimes I can remember her when I see my eyes in the mirror.
John walks back into the room and we both continue packing. He seems sad to be leaving, but I am nothing but excited. He senses this about me and asks,
“So where is it you’re going again? Arizona or something?” I turn around and reply to him.
“Yeah, man. I have to report for training for the position my father got me.” I am lying. I don’t know where the Brotherhood is sending me. I have to report for the pledging process and training in Atlanta, Georgia, but after that I will be moved to a secret location. I asked my father where I would be sent, and he said that even if he knew, he could not tell me.
“God dude, you’re so lucky!” John says to me. He’s wrong, though. It has nothing to do with luck. This is my destiny.
Chapter III
Mary Catherine Wright
I am the past, and they all know it. Weakness. Desperation. Vulnerability. These things emanate off of me, off of my tall, slender frame as I stand at the cash register at work. The uniform t-shirt tightly drawn across my chest and the bow tied up in my brunette hair compliment the flirtatious and careless demeanor I have at work. Women detest me, and men want to use me.
I take a long sip from an energy drink I purchased to get me through my shift. The caffeinated toxin enters my body and lifts my awareness just enough so that I can continue on with my meaningless work. I turn and look at Shelby, one of the girls I work with, as she addresses me.
“I just finished mopping out the back, Katie. Is there anything else you want me to do for close?” She asks me. The pizza shop we work at closes in two hours, but when it starts to slow down, we start cleaning for the nightly close.
“No, thank you Shelby; you can go ahead and clock out if you want to. I can handle the rest. I don’t think we’ll have many more customers.” I reply. She smiles and thanks me. After she clocks out at our electronic register, I watch her walk out of the front door of the shop.
I started working at the pizza shop in high school. It started out as a part time job so that I could afford my car payments and help my mom out here and there. I used to aspire to be a medical doctor, but when the time came to go college, I started to doubt my abilities. The owner offered me the position of manager after I graduated high school, and seeing the pay raise made me accept it. Even though I was working full time, I attempted to take classes at a community college as well. After two semesters of classes, most of which I dropped, I gave up. My failed higher education left me with disappointment and a sizeable student loan, and nothing else.
Mindlessly, I begin wiping things down in the store. There’s a certain comfort in thoughtless work. I at least know that I am earning money and doing my job, however irrelevant it may be to society. Periodically, I check my phone, hoping that a boy I met a week ago had decided to send me a text. Every time I touch the screen and have no new messages, my heart breaks just a little bit more. I feel pathetic, but am able to lose myself in my work.
As I’m bent over wiping around the mixer in one corner of the shop, I hear a long whistle from behind me. I instinctively giggle and stand up. Seeing a young man at the front of the register, I make my way across the store to help him.
“Hi, how can I help you?” I ask him in a high-pitched voice. He’s taller, and is wearing the clothes of someone who works outside: boots, jeans, and a t-shirt. He gives me a funny look and responds.
“You could give me your number, sweet heart.” He says. I giggle girlishly in response. He seems really cute, and I can’t help but enjoy the masculine attention.
“Oh yeah? Maybe… But what can I get you?” I ask him in a joking manner. This was one of the few things at work that wasn’t a pain. There were a few fun customers a day that made the job bearable.
“Well, I was hoping to get a large cheese pizza and a large soda if you can do that for me baby.” He tells me. I smile back at him and type the order into the register.
“That’ll be $14.86. I’ll have to make your pizza though, so it’ll be about ten or fifteen minutes. Is that OK?” I ask him. As he takes out his wallet, he tells me that that’s fine. He