The Morning Of Junior Year

The Moon had fallen, surrendering its place to the radiant sun that now shone upon Harbor City. It was a Monday morning in late August, marking the beginning of the school year and the student's return to their academic endeavors. However, one particular student, Charlie Fuller, was still blissfully enveloped in the comfort of his bed. His alarm clock, buried beneath pillows, emitted a muffled jingle, futilely attempting to rouse him. If Charlie could see the clock on his phone, it would read 7:15 in the morning. But he remained undisturbed, snoring softly as the door to his bedroom creaked open.

Footsteps crept closer, the sound growing ever nearer to Charlie's bed. Still, he remained unresponsive, lost in the depths of sleep. Suddenly, a mischievous grin appeared on the face of the figure standing before him. The footsteps continued until they reached the end of the bed, where the figure picked up a pillow, raising it triumphantly towards the ceiling. In one swift movement, the pillow descended upon Charlie's unsuspecting face, resulting in a resounding SMACK. Charlie jolted awake, gasping for air, his confusion and fear evident.

"What the?" he exclaimed, his eyes darting around the room, searching for the source of the unexpected assault. It didn't take long for him to spot Lamar Stevens, standing before him with a pillow in hand, laughter erupting from him.

"Lamar, what the hell are you doing in here?" Charlie demanded, his voice a mix of irritation and bewilderment.

"I'm here to wake your ass up. It's 7:15, class starts in an hour, and we still have to pick up Blake," Lamar explained, his laughter subsiding.

Charlie retrieved his phone from under the pillow, silencing the alarm and tossing the pillow back at Lamar. "How did you even get in here?"

"Your mom let me in. Now come on, get up and put on some decent clothes for once. We need to look like juniors, not like your mom dressed you like last year," Lamar replied, already making his way towards the door to give Charlie some privacy.

Charlie flopped back onto his bed, still frustrated by the rude awakening. "I didn't look like my mom dressed me," he muttered under his breath.

Lamar's voice drifted from outside the room, down the hallway. "Whatever you say, dude, just hurry up. We don't have all day." Then, he popped his head back into the room. "Oh, by the way, your mom makes the best pancakes."

Charlie shot up, incredulous. "You ate my pancakes?"

"You should've woken up on time," Lamar called back as he descended the stairs.

Charlie shook his head, a mixture of annoyance and amusement lingering in his expression. "He better have left some for me," he muttered to himself. He walked to his closet, determined to find an outfit that wouldn't elicit teasing from Lamar or make him look like his mom had dressed him. As he rummaged through his clothes, his phone chimed, signaling the arrival of a text message. The tone was distinct, customized to indicate a message from one specific person. It was undoubtedly Hailey Gibson. The reminder of their previous night's conversation sent Charlie's mind spiraling once again.

"Should I have never brought up the concept of change with her?" Charlie pondered, his thoughts drifting to the uncertainties and doubts he had experienced the night before. He approached his phone, took a deep breath, and unlocked it to read the text.

[GM Charlie! Let's have a good 1st day of school! SUS!]

A wave of relief washed over Charlie as he read Hailey's message. "I guess she's moved on from our conversations last night," he thought, feeling grateful and reassured. Realizing he should do the same, Charlie closed his phone and continued preparing for the day ahead.

Outside, Lamar Stevens, donning a Harbor High School Football sweater, leaned against the passenger side door of a white pickup truck. He was engrossed in his phone, scrolling through social media posts, patiently waiting for Charlie to make his appearance. In a playful tone, Lamar shouted, "If you take any longer, we're going to be seniors by the time we get to school!"

"I'm coming, just relax for a second," Charlie retorted, locking the front door behind him.

"It's about time. Any longer, and we could've ordered from the 55-and-older menu," Lamar teased as Charlie unlocked the truck and tossed his football bag into the bed. He made his way to the driver's side, hopped in, and started the car. Lamar followed suit, entering through the passenger side, and the two friends set off toward Blake's house.

As they cruised along, Charlie tuned in to the local talk radio, the familiar voices filling the airwaves.

"And we're back from a short commercial break. This is Anton from 970 AM, and we're taking calls to discuss our Harbor High Admiral Football team. There's a lot of buzz around town with the new coach and young team. Many believe that with the legacy of the Gibson family tree, this could be the return to glory. Let's hear from our first caller. You're live! What are your thoughts?"

"This team is a disaster waiting to happen. Charlie Fuller is destined to fail. It'd be better to start a freshman fresh off Pop Warner than Fuller. And you know what? While I'm at it..."

Static screeched through the airwaves, interrupting the critical caller. The radio swiftly shifted to the tunes of '80s classics, followed by a slow country ballad and then the soothing sounds of jazz. Lamar, with a satisfied smile on his face, changed the station, diverting them from the negativity.

"Yeah, that's more like it," Lamar exclaimed.

"Quit messing with my radio, man," Charlie protested.

"Technically, it's your dad's truck, so it's your dad's radio," Lamar retorted playfully.

"He left it with me while he's on deployment, so until then, it's my truck and my radio," Charlie asserted.

"Well, touche," Lamar conceded with a chuckle. "Besides, I think it's best to block out what they're saying and focus on the game."

Charlie didn't respond, his thoughts drifting elsewhere as he maneuvered the truck down the street leading to Blake's house. "I can handle whatever they say about me," he said finally, his voice tinged with a hint of determination.

"I'm sure you can," Lamar acknowledged, "but sometimes it's better to shield yourself from the unnecessary noise."

Charlie remained silent, his mind preoccupied. He drove for another half mile before pulling into Blake's front driveway. Lamar rolled down the passenger window, leaning out and yelling, "Blake Montgomery, hurry up and come outside!"

Lamar turned back to face Charlie, who shot him a piercing glare. Something seemed to be bothering Charlie, although Lamar couldn't pinpoint the exact cause.

"Um, are you okay, buddy?" Lamar asked tentatively.

"I'm fine, Lamar. Tell me one thing, though. Why aren't you going inside Blake's house and eating his breakfast?" Charlie questioned, his tone laced with a touch of sarcasm.

Lamar burst into laughter, smacking

Charlie's shoulder playfully. "That's because Blake's mom doesn't make him breakfast in the morning. Blake does it all on his own. And trust me, his cooking would probably kill me."

"What? Do you keep tabs on everyone's breakfast situations?" Charlie retorted, a mix of amusement and annoyance in his voice.

"Of course! You and Damian's parents always have something delicious to share. Blake fends for himself, and since his mom is our coach, I don't want to annoy her any more than I already do at school."

"I'm surprised you even consider Hailey as an acquaintance," Charlie mused, his curiosity piqued.

"Just an acquaintance by association, nothing more," Lamar replied casually.

"You two really can't get along, can you?" Charlie sighed, shaking his head.

"Nope," Lamar replied simply, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

At that moment, the front door of Blake's house swung open, and the echoes of his conversation with his mother resonated in the air. "Love you, Mom! I'll let you know when we get there," Blake yelled, rushing towards the truck. Charlie and Lamar exchanged mischievous grins, anticipating his arrival. Charlie honked the horn as Lamar leaned out of the window, shouting, "Blake Montgomery, hurry up and come outside!"

"Guys, knock it off," Blake pleaded, attempting to catch up with the truck.

Reaching the end of the driveway, Charlie shifted the truck from reverse to drive, intending to playfully tease Blake further. However, before he could accelerate, a loud thud reverberated through the vehicle as it bounced up and down. Glancing at the rearview mirror, Charlie and Lamar saw Blake sitting up, sliding open the back window just enough to squeeze through.

"You two are assholes," Blake declared, his voice tinged with both annoyance and amusement.

Charlie and Lamar erupted into laughter, thoroughly entertained by their antics. Finally, Charlie pressed on the gas pedal, propelling the truck forward, and embarking on their journey to school. Blake settled into the back seat, sitting upright, ready to greet Charlie and Lamar properly. He started with Lamar, and the two friends exchanged a quick, simple handshake.

"Lamar."

"How's it going, bud?"

"Less stressful now that I'm inside the truck," Blake quipped, turning his attention to Charlie. He tapped Charlie's shoulder gently. "How's it going, Charlie?"

"Good, man," Charlie responded, a hint of frustration lingering in his tone. "I just really wish my window was a tad smaller now."

"That's it. I'm not taking any pictures of you two this season," Blake threatened, feigning seriousness.

Lamar chuckled at Blake's statement. "I'm the starting receiver, and he's the starting quarterback. So unless you're only taking pictures of the defense, good luck with that."

Blake brushed off their banter and turned his attention back to Charlie. "So, Charlie, how was your date last night?"

Lamar's excitement grew, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. However, the grin that had been on Charlie's face earlier had vanished.

"You both know that last night wasn't a date. We've done this every night before the first day of school for years. Nothing new," Charlie clarified, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

"So you didn't try anything?" Lamar prodded.

Blake tapped Lamar's shoulder, intervening. "He never tries anything. He's never once told her how he feels."

"Damn it, Charlie Fuller. Grow a pair and finally ask that girl out. Not for your sake or for her sake, but for our sake. End this madness," Lamar urged

, his voice filled with playful frustration.

"Dude, please. Lamar, you have no idea," Blake chimed in, altering his voice to imitate Charlie. "I wish we could be more." He shook his head, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his eyes.

"Okay, will you both get off my back about this?" Charlie snapped, a mix of irritation and resignation in his voice.

"Then ask her out already," Blake insisted, emphasizing the urgency of Charlie's need to make a move.

"Fine. I will," Charlie responded, determination flickering in his eyes.

"Not in ten years, Charlie. Do it this week," Lamar interjected, his tone emphasizing the importance of taking action.

With a mix of emotions swirling inside him, Charlie focused on the road ahead, driving them closer to the adventures and challenges that awaited them on the first day of school.

***

In another car, two more people are on their way to Harbor High for the first day of the school year. Hailey Gibson sits in the passenger seat of her mom's car, her ear pods delivering the latest pop song directly into her ears. She tries to drown out the annoying radio show that Charlie was listening to earlier, but unfortunately, her mother, Michelle Gibson, has been listening to the segment from the moment they got into the car that morning. Michelle, wearing a Harbor High visor, sunglasses, and her Harbor High football coach's polo, absorbs the frenzy that her hiring as the head football coach has stirred in the town.

The radio show voices their doubts about the team's potential, dismissing Charlie Fuller as undersized for the quarterback position and criticizing the weak offensive line and lack of a running game. However, one voice stands up for Michelle, recognizing the potential for revival that her Gibson name brings to the program.

Michelle finally reaches out to turn off the radio, freeing herself from the relentless rants of the people of Harbor City. She exhales, attempting to let go of the negativity and clear her mind. Hailey notices her mother's reaction and seizes the opportunity to ask her a question, removing one of her ear pods.

"Did they finally decide to switch topics?" Hailey asks, her curiosity piqued.

"No, I just decided to stop listening," Michelle replies, mustering a mild chuckle.

Hailey continues, voicing her frustration, "Did anyone say anything positive for once? You'd think that with how bad the team has been for years, they would be happy with any change."

Michelle smiles at Hailey's comment, understanding the desire to maintain the status quo. As she turns the car into the Harbor High staff parking lot, she shares a piece of wisdom with her daughter.

"Change is tricky, Hailey. It can be scary, and sometimes it brings about positive outcomes while other times it can lead to disappointment. These people just need to see us on the field this Friday, and I'm sure their opinions will change."

Hailey chuckles, recalling her conversation with Charlie the previous night. Michelle glances at her daughter, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"What's so funny?" Michelle inquires, intrigued by Hailey's reaction.

Hailey reflects on the town's anticipation for change, including her mother's new role and Charlie's transformation. Her voice takes on a somber tone as she responds, "Nothing. I guess everyone in this town is looking for a change right now. You, Charlie, every Harbor High football fan. I understand that change can be good, but sometimes I wish things could just stay the same."

Michelle smiles at Hailey's sentiment, acknowledging the comfort that familiarity can bring. She turns off the engine, and they find a parking spot labeled "Head Football Coach Michelle Gibson," hastily altered with white tape and a blue marker to display her name. Michelle views this makeshift sign as a motivation to succeed, an inner drive to prove her worth, and demand a proper replacement.

Hailey looks at her mom and expresses her concerns, "What if I don't like the change?"

Michelle assures her daughter, "The only changes you have control over are your own. As for someone like Charlie, you can offer advice and support as his best friend, but ultimately, the decisions he makes are his own. The best you can do is either stand by him through these changes or, if they pose a risk to your well-being, let him go."

Hailey ponders her mother's words, contemplating the implications for her friendship with Charlie in light of their recent conversation. As the realization dawns upon her, frustration fills her, prompting her to unbuckle her seatbelt and exit the car.

"Growing up sucks,"

she exclaims, exasperated by the complexities of life.

Michelle responds with reassurance, "You'll get through it, I promise," as Hailey slams the car door shut. Michelle grabs her bag and follows suit, stepping out of the vehicle.

Hailey gazes at the people surrounding them, noticing the hostile looks directed at her mother from other faculty members and even parents. She feels a growing discomfort in the air. As Michelle gathers her belongings and closes the door, she joins Hailey at the passenger side. Michelle also observes the glares, realizing the challenges they might face together.

"Mom, why did you have to take this job?" Hailey asks, her voice tinged with worry.

"Don't worry about it," Michelle responds, attempting to deflect the concern.

"I mean, a female football coach. Doesn't that sound a little off to you?" Hailey expresses her unease.

Michelle advises her daughter to ignore the negativity, assuring her that with time, the resistance will fade away. Hailey expresses her hope for a positive change in the town.

"I sure hope so," Hailey murmurs, her tone reflecting her apprehension.

Standing there for a moment, Hailey and Michelle share an unspoken understanding before Michelle taps Hailey on the shoulder, urging her to move forward.

"Come on, let's head inside," she suggests, attempting to shift their focus to the new school year.

As they begin to walk toward the front gate of Harbor High School, the enthusiastic voice of Landon Donaldson, Harbor High's most prominent football booster, resonates through the air. Landon, who had been the starting quarterback for Harbor High almost 40 years ago under Michelle's grandfather's coaching, approaches them with determination.

"Coach Gibson!" Landon yells as if Michelle hadn't already spotted him making his way towards them.

Michelle mutters under her breath, "Oh lord," anticipating the upcoming conversation with Landon.

Landon finally reaches their car, exclaiming enthusiastically, "Coach Michelle Gibson, the woman who is going to take us all the way back to state this season! How are you?"

Michelle, who has grown accustomed to these encounters over the summer, puts on a semi-fake smile and turns to face Landon. "Landon Donaldson, it's great to see you again. I'm doing well, thank you. How about yourself?"

"Glad to hear it! I'm alright, just excited for Friday night!" Landon exclaims, his mind clearly focused on the upcoming football game and little else.

Michelle chuckles, acknowledging the shared excitement. "Well, aren't we all?" She pauses for a moment, feeling the weight of the situation. "Landon, this is my daughter Hailey. I don't believe you two have met yet."

Landon extends his hand towards Hailey, his grin unwavering. Hailey hesitates, glancing at his hand and then back at Landon, sensing his preoccupation with Friday night football.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too," Hailey replies reluctantly, accepting his handshake.

Observing Hailey's cheer bag, Landon makes an assumption. "Oh, so you're a cheerleader? My daughter was too, varsity captain for all four years, class of '98. It's nice that you two can make Friday nights a family affair. Your mom coaching the team to victory while you provide support from the sidelines. I love this dynamic. It's... It's... a sure winner!"

Hailey stares at Landon for a moment, his overzealousness and fixation on football leaving her puzzled. She glances back at her mother, then quickly decides to leave, distancing herself from the conversation.

"Yeah, anyways, I guess I'll see you later, Mom," Hailey states, her tone filled with an underlying frustration.

"Let's make it a great year!" Michelle calls after her, her words filled with optimism.

"Whatever you say, Mom," Hailey responds, her voice laced with skepticism.

Turning away, Hailey walks towards the front gate of Harbor High School, officially entering the school as a junior for the first time. Michelle reaches into her bag, retrieves her keys, and locks the car. Determined, she begins her journey toward the main office. However, Landon, refusing to give her any breathing room, intercepts her, blocking her path onto campus.

"Kids, aren't they the greatest? Look, Michelle, some of the other boosters and I have a few suggestions for Friday night that I want to go over with you," Landon declares, positioning himself to engage in a conversation.

Michelle, feeling the weight of her responsibilities, increases her pace, attempting to get ahead of Landon and escape the conversation. "Landon, I really have to prep for class right now. If we could discuss this later, that would be great."

"Coach, it'll be very quick," Landon persists, trying to seize the opportunity.

"I can't right now. Find me around lunchtime, and I'll listen to everything you have to say then," Michelle insists, determined to prioritize her professional obligations.

Michelle quickens her pace, leaving Landon behind as she enters the office. Landon is left standing alone, wearing a displeased expression on his face.