1

They say winning doesn't matter. That all that matters is that you do your best.

Wrong.

Winning is everything. Nobody likes to lose. Nobody wants to be the team that lost the finals or the kid who sits alone at lunch.

How do I know this?

Because I'm that kid.

No friends. No girlfriend. No family waiting for me at home. Just me.

A loser.

And believe me when I say people have made it very clear that I'm supposed to stay that way.

Right now I'm sitting alone at lunch, scrolling through my phone, pretending I have texts to read. Pretending I'm waiting for someone to sit down across from me.

Honestly, it can be peaceful.

Nobody bothers you. No one talks to you. It's just you and your thoughts.

I glance around the cafeteria. Every table belongs to someone.

The funny kids, the smart kids, the cheerleaders, the band kids, the drama kids, and of course, the athletes.

Everyone has their place.

But the real winners?

The gym guys.

Strong. Confident. The kind of guys who can get any girl they want. The kind of guys who look like they've already won at life.

I could probably be like them if I had the courage to get a gym membership and lift in front of a bunch of strangers judging me.

Yeah... no thanks.

I'm too skinny. Too weak. My spaghetti arms would probably snap just trying to bench the bar.

I keep watching them anyway. They're drinking protein shakes and talking about bulking and cutting like it's a second language.

Then suddenly my view is blocked.

By a girl.

I look up.

Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Triangle-shaped earrings. She's wearing a white hoodie with "#1" printed across the front.

"Hey," she says with a smile.

“Hey," I reply.

“Can I sit here? I have nowhere else to sit."

I glance around the cafeteria. There are at least ten empty tables.

I already know where this is going.

She leans forward slightly.

“By the way, I thought you were really cute. Can I get your Snap?"

"I'm good, thanks."

Her smile fades.

"You don't think I'm pretty?"

I stand up.

I'm not doing this again.

As I walk away, I hear her yell across the cafeteria to her friends.

"He didn't fall for it!"

I've seen this one too many times.

A boy sits alone. A pretty girl suddenly walks up to him. She pretends to be interested, raises his hopes just enough, and then she makes fun of you.

I'm just glad I dodged that one.

I leave the cafeteria and head toward the bathrooms. The smokers usually hang out there during lunch, so if I'm lucky, they won't be around today.

When I push the door open, the first thing I see is toilet paper scattered all over the floor.

Someone left a vape on the rusty tile near the sinks.

Nothing new.

They do this every once in a while.

I try not to step on the toilet paper as I walk across the bathroom. My shoes stick slightly to the floor in a few places, which tells me it probably hasn't been cleaned in a while.

I make my way to the last stall.

This is where I'll be spending the rest of lunch.

I sit down and pull out my phone, scrolling through random videos to kill time.

Most of them are about bodybuilding.

Workout routines. Transformation videos. Diet plans. Anything about getting stronger.

Watching them gives me this weird sense of comfort. Like maybe one day I could be one of those guys.

There's one video I keep coming back to.

It's from Jackson Payne.

Right now he's the biggest bodybuilder in the world. Six foot two. Two hundred pounds of muscle.

Rich, famous, and apparently natural too.

In the video he talks about how he used to be just a skinny kid that nobody liked. Poor. Invisible.

Then he found the gym. Now everyone treats him like a God.

Every time I watch that video I start thinking the same thing.

Maybe the gym really could change everything.

The bell finally rings, echoing through the hallway.

I quickly shove my phone back into my pocket and rush out of the bathroom before someone decides to blame me for the toilet paper mess.

Normally I'd head to my next class. But I'd rather not spend the rest of the afternoon listening to people call me names or kick the back of my chair.

So instead I pull out my phone and send Martha a text.

"Hey. I'm not feeling good. Can you pick me up?"

I grab my things quickly and head to the front office to let them know I'm leaving.

Usually they don't really care if you walk out of school early. The secretary spends most of the day on her phone playing Candy Crush.

"Going home, Jack?" she asks without looking up.

"Yeah. I'm not feeling good," I say.

She finally glances up from her phone and looks at me.

She knows I'm not sick.

But she also knows she doesn't get paid enough to care.

She rolls her eyes.

"Let me call—""I already took care of that," I interrupt. "She'll be here soon."

She leans back in her chair.

"You know there's only two more days until you graduate," she says. "Why not spend them with your friends? You might not see them again."

"I'm praying for that to happen," I reply.

I check my phone.

No response from Martha. She hasn't even seen the message.

Guess I'm walking home.

"She's here. See ya," I say as I start heading for the exit.

I leave before she can respond.

Before pushing the door open, I glance back one last time to make sure she isn't going to stop me.

But she's already back on her phone, tapping away at her game.

I grab my headphones from my backpack and start playing "Time to Pretend" by MGMT.

Old but gold.

I exit the school grounds and make my way to the nearby neighborhoods.

Most of the houses looked exactly the same. Falling apart, faded paint, a rotten egg smell, and cigarette butts cover the front yards where people usually sit outside and smoke.

And honestly, I don't blame them.

The unemployment rate is at an all-time high. Ever since technology took over most jobs, people around here haven't had much left to do.

So they get high. They drink. They smoke.

Anything to escape reality.

I keep walking until I see a fat man sitting in an old wooden chair on his porch.

He has a long beard. The kind that looks like it hasn't been washed in weeks. You can actually see pieces of food stuck in it. He's wearing a cap that says "Crying but still trying." A stained tank top covered in food marks, and strangely enough, a pair of clean jeans.

He's smoking a cigarette and staring straight at me as I walk past.

I try not to make eye contact but it's hard not to.

"This is gonna be you in thirty years," he says in a rough voice. "Hell, you might not even live long enough the way things are going," he adds.

He starts coughing as if he was having a heart attack.

I walk faster and ignore what he said even though he had a point.

It's crazy to think that in only ten years robots were able to take over most people's jobs.

But that's not going to be me.

I have a plan and I'm sure it's going to work out.

I keep walking. I see drones flying all over the sky delivering food and packages.

Cars driving themselves while the driver is asleep, posters promoting A.I. made movies, dogs eating trash from people's houses, and gunshots echoing from far away.

And this is a small town with roughly 10,000 people, by the way. I can't even imagine what Los Angeles looks like.

I finally make it to the main area of the town where local restaurants- oh wait, they're all closed. Where stores- oh, closed too.

It was a ghost town with not a soul in sight.

As I walk through the main area, I keep seeing posters promoting the new iPhone 60, or Fast and Furious: Diesel Returns, which was made by A.I. since Vin Diesel died a while ago.

My phone rings. It's Martha.

"You can walk home just fine."

I don't bother to respond.

I wonder if all foster families are as shitty as mine.

I finally make it to my neighborhood after thirty minutes of walking. I stop once I get to my house.

The car in the driveway is scratched everywhere. The door handle is broken, and it's parked halfway on the lawn. Martha must've been drinking again and I am not paying for the damages this time.

I walk to the front door where I see bottles of beer all over the place and glass everywhere. The grass from the yard was gone and there was nothing but ugly dirt with worms coming out of it.

I knock on the door but the door swings open.

I roll my eyes and step inside.

There was nothing but chaos.