How Green Becomes Wood

"That seems like a flaw in them, not a virtue in me," Sloan commented, but allowed the subject to change, "It's going well. I might start competing at a higher level, but I'm not sure yet."
 
"What are the pros and cons of that?" Alec asked, willing to make small talk the whole way there. He didn't really understand gymnastics, but he knew Sloan loved it and was good at it, and he wanted to support her.
 
"Well, if I move up, then I'll be at the elite level. Which takes a lot more dedication, and I'll also be competing againsy elite gymnasts, which means I may not score as well. But on the other hand, I'll get to learn more complicated moves and get to work with more impressive gymnasts. I also won't be with most of the people on my team, like Claire has already said she's never going to go elite." Sloan answered, drumming on her steering wheel as she considered it, "It's like. I don't think I'll ever be an Olympian, you know? And the higher I go, the more likely it is I'll be up against future gold medal winners."
 
"Well, if you don't think you'll be going for the gold, as they say, maybe moving up isn't something to be worried about," Alec remarked. "Then again, if you move up and compete with other, better gymnasts, perhaps you'll learn enough that you could be a teacher, whatever your scores, Olympian or not. Then again, if you don't want to teach, and you don't want to give that much time and effort to one thing, maybe staying lower where you can have more time and more fun would be better for you. For your life in general. But if you want to be better and push yourself, then up is the only real way to go."
 
"Well that's what hard, right?" Sloan asked, "It's not that... I don't know. I think every athlete a little bit dreams of being on the Olympic team. It would be incredible to be able to compete on that stage. But it takes so much time, and puts your body through hell, and I'm already 18. So I'm already kind of old. But I love it, you know? I just don't think I'd ever qualify. And I don't know how I'd feel if I kept losing to people who would. But at the same time, eventually all the people in Level 10 will be way younger than me and I won't be able to compete there, either, and I love competing."
 
"That is rough," Alec agreed solemnly. "That is really rough. Hmm. Well, what do you love about competing? Is there anything that might translate to something else other than totally awesome but body-destroying Olympics and similar? Or maybe specific teams for people like you? Or do most gymnasts just... stop?"
 
"Honestly? I have no idea. Anytime I've looked for adult gymnastics, all I've seen is for complete beginners, which I'm not. There probably are options, but they're not talked about a lot, because a lot of gymnasts who make it to level go further, and most who don't are just done with it. But I love it, dude. It's the most freeing thing you can do. And I love the silence when I'm competing, too, because everyone is so locked in, and everything that happens is dependent on my skill, strength, and flexibility. And everybody in the crowd knows it."
 
"That was really amazing to witness when we were there," Alec agreed. He thought for a minute, and just before they reached the school, he suggested, "Maybe you can talk to your coach about possibilities. Maybe they'll have an idea. And you'll be going to collage soon. Maybe they have some sort of on-campus thingy."
 
"I can do gymnastics in college, I'm aiming to be a D1 Athlete. But that has similar problems to being elite." She sighed, pulling into the school parking lot, "It's tough. If only my mom was a 'you must be the best at this arbitrary thing I put you in at three years old' mom and not a, 'you must be perfect at everything,' mom."
 
"Soon you'll have a chance to choose what you want," Alec said, trying to cheer her up. "You'll find something you like. I'm sure of it! It'll just take a bit." When they parked, he thanked her and headed in, looking for Milo as he went.
 
"But I can never turn back the clock and work harder at ten than I did," Sloan sighed and reached back to slap Benny's leg so he knew they arrived. "I'll see you later, alright?"

Milo was waiting near the front of the school. He didn't want to have this conversation, so he knew he needed to get the conversation over with, but he didn't want to, so he waited near the front so he would have to.
 
Alec gave Sloan a sympathetic look, now understanding what she had meant about her mother earlier. That was tough! But one, never could turn back the clock. No matter what they might wish. All thoughts of Sloan's troubles vanished when he spotted Milo. He lifted a hand in greeting and hurried over to him. "Hi. Thank you for meeting me," he said. "Um, where would be the best place to talk? Maybe under the bleachers? I think there might be good. No one will overhear us there as long as we keep quiet. Or wherever else you think is best. I'll follow your lead."
 
Milo looked pale and tired, and he was fidgeting like the bird in Bambi who panicked and failed to stay safe in the bush.

"Um," he answered, pulling at his stretched-out sleeves, "I guess under the bleachers is okay."
 
Alec winced when he saw how scared Milo looked. "Come on," he said, dropping his voice even quieter. He led the way and quickly slipped under the bleachers before anyone could see them. Xander was probably looking at least for Mill because he always did now.
 
Milo followed after him, standing quietly under the bleachers, not knowing if he was supposed to speak first or not. Instead, he stood slouched with his hands in his pockets, waiting.
 
Alec wanted desperately to tell Milo that he was okay, that he wasn't in trouble, that no one was going to be angry or yell at him, but he knew that the best thing to do right now was to get this over with so Milo could move on. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. He set his backpack aside and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "I wrote it down so that I wouldn't ramble." He took a shaky breath and tried to keep his voice steady as he read, his stomach queasy from nerves.

"The first thing I want to say is that I am in no way attempting to excuse myself from what I did wrong. I would like to explain myself, but I do not want to excuse myself. I was wrong to yell at you the way I did. I was wrong to act the way I did. The things I said, some of them might have been true, but none of that matters if the way I said them did you harm, which they did. I am sorry.

"I was having a bad morning that day, so I was already feeling raw when something you said hurt me a little bit more. I am not trying to say it was your fault. I am just saying that was the scenario. The truth is that I have had a problem for a while now, but I have avoided talking about it. I told myself it was to try to help not make you feel bad or to make you feel like I was picking on you, but I should have brought it up sooner. That is my fault. I should have told you sooner that there was friction and give us both a chance to maybe work through it.

"I know that it is unlikely that you mean it to come across like this, but when you consistently speak of how great your life was with your mother and how you cannot wait to leave and how there is nothing good in this town, it makes me feel as though I mean nothing to you. I don't mean that I think I should be equal to your mother, that is not what I mean. Your mother is special. She is on another level. Your mother is your world, it seems. But I wonder why can't we be a part of that world, too? A small part. A tiny amount of happiness while you wait for her to come for you again. I don't like seeing how unhappy you are, and I do not understand why you do not seem to want to allow yourself to be happy.

"Which leads to another fault of mine. While I think I understand more than you seem to think I do, I did not try to understand enough. When you and Xander first started hanging out, I saw in you two kindred gloomy spirits. I assumed, and maybe that was wrong of me, that you and he had the kind of friendship where you could tell him things and talk to him and let him understand. I thought that if he had that side of the friendship covered, then I could be the friend that tries to encourage happiness. Positivity. Or at least neutrality. I never intended to make you believe that I thought you should be happy about your circumstances and that you should smile and just find everything fine. That wasn't my intention, and I am sorry I came across that way. I only wanted you to be less sad. To have hope. I would have liked to see you happy, but even less sad would have been amazing to me. I did not take the time to listen enough to understand you. I should have listened more so that even if I did understand completely - which I don't - you would feel heard. I was making you feel stifled and ignored and I did not realize it. I am sorry for that."

He stopped and shifted a little. "I almost didn't put this part in, but I think it's kind of important so that you can understand where I am coming from, so... here it goes."

"When we were living with our mum, we went through a lot of dark times. Plenty of them. Different from yours, but still dark. There were times when Xander would get a lot angry and a little sad, and our mum would get a lot angry and a lot sad. Both of them, but especially Xander, tended to spiral into darkness and no longer see anything good or positive in life. No light, no joy, no happiness, no hope. Mum was a little okay because she had to go to work, and she had a lot of stubbornness to, as she said, 'push through it.' She would want to lay in bed and do nothing, and once in a while she would, but then she would always get up and push through because she had to, but there would still be no hope. I was the one to focus on hope. I was the one who had to be optimistic, and I had to be because if I didn't, I thought I would lose them both to the darkness forever. I thought that if I wasn't the happy one, the optimistic one, the one who always looked for a silver lining then there would be nothing for anyone to hope for. So, I worked at it. No matter how sad I was, no matter how overwhelmed I was or how much I wanted to be angry, I would shove it all aside because I needed to, not for myself, but for my family.

"When I saw you and Xander together, I think I got afraid. I couldn't see the hope in the here and now with you two. It's good to feel sadness and anger and to let yourself deal with them, which is something I still struggle with, but I was afraid you would both get stuck there in the darkness, and you both mean a lot to me. I didn't want to let you guys fade. Maybe I was wrong to do that. Maybe I was wrong to try to be your friend when you were Xander's friend, but after I started, I didn't want to let you down. I didn't want to be one of those people who 'got to know you and then left,' I think you said once. I didn't trust you enough to think you'd understand that I didn't dislike you, I just wasn't sure we were a good match friendship-wise. So, I forced my friendship on you. And I shouldn't have. I like you, Milo. I think you are an awesome, awesome guy who doesn't let himself be as awesome as he could be because you have very real and very legitimate problems holding you back, and I wanted to see you be even more awesome, but I was wrong to try to force a friendship that turned harmful to us both. I am sorry for that.

"You don't have to forgive me. Not now and not ever if you don't want to. We don't have to try to be friends if you don't want to. I just want you to know that I am sorry. You can do with that whatever you want."

Keeping his gaze lowered, Alec folded up the letter and fiddled with it before awkwardly holding it out toward Milo. "If you want it, you can have it. In cause you need to reference it. Or burn it. It might feel good to burn it if you're mad at me."
 
Milo took the letter and reread it briefly, before folding it up into his pockey and rubbing his sleeve against his face.

"Thanks," he said quietly, staring at the ground. After taking an extended pause he said, "Sorry I made you feel bad. I didn't mean to... I didn't know I was. Things weren't wonderful with my mom, for a long time things were really bad, with my mom. But for a really long time, she's also been the only consistent thing in my life. So I... I've got to believe, you know? I like you, and I like Xander, but... I don't like this town."
 
"I'm sorry I didn't explain sooner," Alec said softly. "I understand having one consistent thing, so you hold on as tight as you possibly can." Unconsciously, he gripped the left sleeve of his coat with his right hand. "I'm sorry you got put in a position where you only have her and no one else to you can trust or lean on. And I am betting you don't like this town because of the way you ended up here? I don't blame you one bit for that, that's for certain. I should have helped you more. I just hoped to make things a little easier until you could be with your mum. I'm sorry I made it harder instead."
 
"How I ended up here, but how people... are. Here. I don't think I've ever been to a school where so much of the student body are just... hateful." He shook his head, "It doesn't matter. I just, this place isn't home for me, even if I like places in it. But I have to imagine that there can be a place where... I feel... It's like. Imagining Sisyphus happy." He still couldn't look up, "that doesn't mean I hate everything about being here, but it doesn't matter how hard I try here. I've been really trying to make it better. But I can't make the other people different."
 
"No, but you can surround yourself with people who are kind and who do care," Alec said gently. "You have a good start with Xander. And I don't hate you. My friends, they might not be your friends, but they'll treat you right. You have been trying really hard, and I haven't said enough that I do see it because I was hurting, but I do see it, and I see how much you've opened up. You'll be going to be with your mom soon, qnd I really hope things are better, but for now, just try to hope for one small thing each day. And stick close to Xander. He won't let people hurt you. Ever."
 
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