🐦

Raph

His sweat stuck to the corners of his mouth. He could taste the salt on the tip of his tongue. The overhead sun shining brighter than usual caused him to see spirals of spirals. He felt his ab muscles molting into lava as he crunched up and down. . . up and down. . .

Ninety-nine. . . one-hundred. He threw his head back against the soft grass, taking a minute to catch his breath. One hundred crunches in under five minutes. There was a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records waiting for him. What if he did two hundred in under ten minutes? Now, that would be worth doing.

A shadow approached him and blocked his view from the sun. The figure chuckled, "You dead yet?"

"Get out of my face, Benny," Raph grunted.

He attempted a weak punch towards 'Benny', not actually intending to hit him. Benny only laughed. "Is that your attempt at a right hook?"

"Don't test me," Raph warned jokingly. "I can do so much worse."

"If that's how your punches are, then do I want to see what your kicks might look like?"

"Just help a dude out."

Benny grabbed Raph's hand and pulled him up. If there was a face Raph was happy to see around here, it was his teammate Benji 'Benny' Garcia. Both went back to when they were in the same youth league all those years ago. They lost touch during their middle school moving into high school years, so when Raph tried out for Roosevelt Prep's soccer team, no one was more ecstatic than Benny.

They were on the grounds of their school's soccer field. A rectangular, 200 x 85 playing surface of artificial turf marked with lines that indicated boundaries, center lines, and the center circle, and enough heat passed around like it was an illegal sweatshop. Roosevelt Prep had another game coming soon, and they had to pull out all the stops if they wanted to beat their most infamous rival in all of school history: The Riverside Panthers. Like probably all of the other prep schools in the area, Riverside was notoriously known for its competitive nature in all things sports and academics. With a little hazing on the side.

"I think you're up for a promotion to captain soon," Benny remarked, tugging on his collar to fan himself. "I saw it on Coach's face during our last game."

"Captain does have a good ring to my name, doesn't it?" Raph grinned.

"We just need to create a poll and the team can vote who's better– you or Brad."

There was an explosion of laughter across from them. Brad Kolowski– captain of their soccer's varsity team– was high-fiving his teammates' and chest-bumping each other. In the month and a half that he was here, Raph could see why their Coach made Brad captain. It wasn't because of his skills— he was neither the fastest or had better footwork. He possessed something else no one on this team really had: influence. Competent at giving orders (and following them, for that matter) and had the ability to make the team feel a surge of confidence and motivation after giving some inspirational speech.

"How do you think the others will feel? New kid who barely had time to earn his rep steals the title from a long-term member of the team?"

"You already earned your rep at tryouts, practice, and the game! You're what Coach calls 'his secret weapon'!"

"As tempting as it is— should that promotion ever come— I don't know if I want to be in charge of you folks."

Benny punched his shoulder. "Who's the guy who was barking orders at us like a drill sergeant during youth soccer? I swear, no one wanted to piss you off."

It had taken weeks for everyone in their soccer league to figure out that yelling for the ten year old Asian who acted like he was trying out for the marine corps was his way of showing that he cared.

"I was just trying to motivate you guys," Raph said.

"Some of us even called you 'Coach' by mistake sometimes," Benny reminded. "Even then, you were a force to be reckoned with."

"It is a gift."

Raph and Benny decided to walk around the field. They saw their equipment manager— Malcolm Palmer— place the plastic cones down in an orderly fashion. He noticed them and waved. Raph waved back. Malcolm was nice enough, but the other teammates described him as being. . . eccentric. Raph thought that they were just trying to use a nicer word for 'weird.'

"You know, I didn't peg you as the type to attend a fancy pants school," Benny admitted. "What made you change your mind?"

"I didn't 'change my mind'," Raph air-quoted. He huffed as he remembered the day his dad sat him down and had the talk. And no, it wasn't the one about the birds and bees. If Raph had to summarize the conversation: 'Son, I was once your age. I did some bad shit, too! But because I am your father and can make you, you are to drop out of that good-for-nothing school and enroll in the same school your brother went to, or risk being grounded until the day your kids graduate! And by the way, you can't wear sweatpants and oversized hoodies!'

"That bad, huh? It could've been worse," Benny pointed out after Raph explained. "He could've hired some people to kidnap you in the middle of the night to take you to a program hosted in the wilderness to teach kids how to get their shit together."

"Is that actually a thing?"

"I've heard about it. It's for all the white parents who never bothered to discipline their kids."

Raph rolled his eyes. Oh, because that was discipline? Clearly, the typical white parent and his father didn't share the same perception about what 'discipline' was supposed to be. "They don't know what a slipper is? Or an extension cord?"

"You call it an ass whooping. They call it child abuse."

"I'd be damned if all my father had left to resort to was a kidnap-for-hire. Or at the least, a 'How to Discipline your child book'."

"My Ma tells me all the time how she thinks this country is ruining me. She says she wants to send me to live in the motherland for a while. Please. As if there is any better than here."

Benny's parents originally came from Venezuela. He and Raph became friends through one common thread: being 'different' was a flaw. Benny was told off by teachers and customers alike anytime he spoke Spanish. For Raph, it was that dud muffin Eddie Foyer. During recess in the fifth grade, he and his friends thought it was hilarious to tape their eyes at an exaggerated slant. Let's just say chocolate wasn't the only thing Eddie was about to eat that day. Anyway, Raph was fuming; but he also felt something shrivel up inside of him. It wasn't his fault the other kids were fucking racists. So then why feel ashamed?

"I've never been to the motherland either, so we're both in the same boat." In reality, Raph was a little nervous for that day. Already his identity as a Japanese-American was confusing, but if he went to Japan? He spoke Japanese fine, but he sounded ten times smarter when he spoke English. His vocabulary wasn't just as extensive and articulated.

The two walked past the bleachers. A few more teammates were sitting afar, huddled together as they read the school newspaper.

"It's really shitty—" Benny continued, "—Venezuela, I mean. Not Japan. And I mean the circumstances. If my mom watched all the videos and read the reports about what's going on, there's no way in hell she'll let me go."

"What is it? A war?"

"It's about to be if the government doesn't step the fuck up and does something for once."

Raph sighed. "We love facism."

The trail had ended. Raph and Benny decided to take a short break before Coach had them do footwork exercises. When they winded down, the same group of guys rushed up to them while one held the newspaper.

"Check this out!" Jesse— who played left midfield— waved the newspaper in his hand. "We're on the front page!"

The newspaper was practically shoved into Raph and Benny's faces. True to Jesse's word, the entire front page was dedicated to the team's victory and performance. Some of the details were teeny-weeny exaggerated, but who the fuck cared? The Generals' goalie sucked.

"And guess who's pic is featured?" Benny smirked. He pointed at the main attraction— Raph stealing the ball away from a rival player seconds before making the goal.

Raph snatched it from Benny's hands to take a closer look. Damn. Focused expression, muscles emphasized, and his hair swaying in  different directions in a way that was unflattering but sexy at the same time. I look good. Who took this? Not to throw shade on April, but her photography skills were nowhere near as professional as this.

"Player 14– Raphael Sato— has plenty of fresh juice as he shows player 10 whose boss. What other skills could the new kid be hiding?" Raph read the caption out loud. Oh, if only you guys knew.

"You're famous, dude!" Danny gushed. "The whole school will soon know your name!"

Benny took the newspaper back and winked at Raph. "Yep. I'd say you definitely earned your rep,"

"No offense, Raph, but when you first joined our team, I thought you'd be one of those wannabe try-hards like every other junior fresh out of the oven," Tyler admitted. Like most of the guys on the team, he was a senior. "But we might have a chance at nationals in the future because of you."

"Your footwork is especially impressive! You gotta wonder if the caption speaks true that you have some 'hidden' skills or something," Jesse wondered. He and the others went back to reading.

TWEET! TWEET!

At the sound of Coach's whistle, everyone filed up in a single line on the field. It was beyond Raph how someone with a bulging belly like Coach's ever made the cut for a sports coach, but maybe it was the lessons that mattered and not the eating habits, right?

"Alright, Vikings!" Coach Alimonte bellowed. "Your performance at the game was exactly as I expected from you. But of course, you're only as good as your last one. As you all know, we are going up against those goddamn panthers! So whatever shit or drama you've got going on, leave it out of my field till' the end of the day!"

Coach Alimonte walked up to Raph. Raph noticed he had some mustard on his windbreaker collar. "You've only been with us for almost two months, and yet you have demonstrated you're not some slug on a stick that's been left behind in the wind. Alas, don't think just because you've got the most talent that you can start missing practice. You think I got to where I am by slacking off?"

Raph tried not to look him up and down. I can think of some other things you've been 'slacking' off at. . .

"Now that I've said what needs to be said, everyone grab a ball and do some drills! Oh, and another thing— our newspaper's photographer will be here any minute to take photos for the sports cover, so try not to do anything stupid."

Followed by another sharp blow of Coach's whistle, every player scrambled for a ball and partnered up.

"If I'm lucky, maybe my picture will be one of the many chosen," Benny said. He tossed the soccer ball into the air. "Fifteen minutes of fame and shit."

Raph smiled. "Whatever you do, just don't let the camera catch you picking your nose or anything."

Raph set his ball down and began on a sequence of dribbling drills. Quite arguably, this was his favorite part about practice. The soccer ball was his own punching bag; everything that was on his mind he could take it out on the little air-filled plastic equipment. This was his time to do his own thing, at his own pace. He could critique himself and promise to do it better.

He first did some cone weaving and diagonal dribbles. Easy peasy. Then he proceeded to do a figure eight— a little more complicated than the first other methods, but at least it allowed him to focus on his agility and speed. Last thing on his list was sprinting with the ball. After finding a big enough spot that wasn't occupied yet, Raph set off. The trick was not only controlling your pace and the ball's, but also where you hit the ball. Raph found that the sweet spot was the center.

As he accelerated, Raph's thoughts traveled to the days' old conversation that was his and Casey's. He knew what he did was in total violation of the agreement he made with Leo about 'no more secrets', but this was made his business when Casey became involved with the very people he and his family were going up against. What was he supposed to do? Leave Casey to the wolves?

Raph stumbled slightly on changing direction quickly.

What Raph couldn't begin to comprehend was that Casey had been working with the Russians the whole time. He and this Ana chick. But Casey hated criminals. Was it really about some girl? Or something more?

The ball was slipping away from Raph's feet. . .

Raph knew one thing for sure: Ana's disappearance was the key. Since Casey said she worked for the Russians— who somehow kept in contact with The Count— who Raph knew were business partners with Shredder— did that mean she did something she shouldn't have? What if she was. . .

Raph completely lost his footing. He grit his teeth. Concentrate, Raph. He tried to regain the weight of the ball beneath his foot. He tried to coordinate the rhythm of his footsteps.

And that's where he miscalculated. He thought he could recover, but then his balance wavered. He stumbled forward and hit the ground hard. He groaned as he clutched his shoulder. Fuck.

As he propped himself on his elbows, he saw something that made his heart race. There was a camera flash. Retracting the camera lense that caught the afternoon light from his face, in all his shy grace and calm composure, was Mak. Raph never noticed until now how sharp, yet delicate Mak's cheekbones were— which was a crazy thought to begin with. His eyes like obsidian rock that gave nothing away, pale smooth skin. . .

What the fuck?

Mak's camera clicked.

Raph tensed. He was April's replacement? He took that photo? Okay, he had some great skills, Raph admitted. But he really didn't think Mak looked like a photographer. He looked like the kind of person to study birds or pass out flyers to stop global warming.

Everything's fine. It made sense why Mak was here; he's literally the school newspaper's photographer. Just doing his job.

Raph forced himself to look away, brushing the dirt off his uniform and knees. God, Mak's camera better had not caught the moment he fell on his ass.

Whatever movie laws he was taught growing up, coincidences did happen. That was what exactly he had here— a fucking coincidence.

***

"Should I get the Greek-style pizza or the mushroom Swiss burger?"

It was lunchtime. On today's episode: would Mikey ever decide what he would eat today? It wasn't just at school where he had a hard time picking a meal— restaurants, diners, cooking dinner, etc. When Raph and his family pointed this out to Mikey, he'd say, "Would you easily choose between a velveeta lobster mac n cheese or beef noodles served with an ostrich egg? That's like choosing pancakes over waffles during breakfast!" An easier solution was to pick both, but this was a cafeteria. Were the cooks even getting paid enough to make servings for everyone?

Mikey picked up either plate and studied each meal as though they were ancient Viking bones he dug up. He looked at Raph to settle the debate for him.

"Mikey, it's food," Raph sighed. He took an apple from the fruit basket. "You're going to eat it. What does it matter?"

"What does it matter? Are you crazy?" Mikey gasped offended. "Observe: the meat patty is bacon-wrapped piled with grilled mushrooms; the pizza has feta cheese, veggies, and a thick crust-- practically everything I love on a pizza. I want to have both, but I can't. You have to pick for me."

"You picked the worst person to choose."

"You're standing right next to me! Who else could I pick?"

"Um, Talia and April? Didn't you three come together?"

"Yeah, but they ditched me when I took too long!"

"Just like what I'm about to do to you if you don't goddamn choose."

Mikey frowned. "Fine." He settled for the pizza. "Don't worry. Another day," he whispered longingly to the burger before setting it down. Raph was almost tempted to apologize to the people behind him for his foodie brother hogging up the line.

They stepped outside, where April and Talia were already waiting for them at their usual spot— under the shade of an old tree. Talia had a notebook open, probably revising over notes for a class. April had already cracked into her lunch— pasta salad with an abundant of diced pickles.

Raph dumped his backpack over the table. Mikey fell into the spot beside him, stealing one of Talia's potato wedges while he was at it.

"Took you all long enough," April stated through a mouthful of egg salad.

"Sorry, April," Mikey said. "I had to make a difficult decision."

"Let me guess: you went with the pizza?"

"Precisely. You-know-who wasn't much help."

Raph groaned. "Oh my god. Get over it."

Mikey shook his head. "He'll never understand." That earned him a nod from April.

"I do not understand," Talia chimed in. She looked like a Persian princess with her curly hair and warm tan. "I just wish to know why it is a challenging decision to choose which food to get."

"I believe that all food should be eaten and appreciated," Mikey explained. "When I see something I like, I eat it. Everyone always says to go with the first option, but what if the second is just as good? Double the food, double the happiness."

"So then why not get the second option?"

"Sometimes, Taly, you can't get your cake and eat it too."

Talia hummed thoughtfully. "I see your point."

April sipped from her water. "Now we can discuss the important matter(s)." Her ahem was suggestive and authoritative. "Boys. Anything you want to say?"

Mikey blinked. He was busy opening his milk carton. "You're doing a great job at the newspaper?"

"Why, thanks, Mikey. But I'm talking about the other matter."

Mikey gave it a hard thought. He clapped his hands. "The Halloween dance! Oh my gosh, do y'all know what you're going as? I don't know if I want to go as Black Panther or Bucky. Captain America: Civil War made me fall in love with them so much more."

Raph poked at his mashed potatoes. Sometimes, he wondered if Mikey's got peanuts for brain cells.

April sighed like she was wondering the same thing. "I mean the docks," she specified. "You guys haven't been answering our texts! We want in on the details!"

"Oh. That's right."

Mikey looked over at Raph for approval. Raph rubbed his temple.

"We were going to tell you," Raph promised, "but we didn't know exactly how."

"Did things not go according to plan?" Talia's brows creased in concern.

"Well. . ." Raph trailed sheepishly. Oh, to hell with it. "There was a slight hurdle."

"Which, by the way, was Raph," Mikey exposed, digging into his pizza.

"Shut up, Mikey. Anyway. . . the guy we saw with the Russians? It was Casey."

The silence hit like a punch.

April's eyes widened. "Wait— Casey Casey? As in—"

Mikey nodded. "Yep. Hockey-loving, bat-swinging, disaster Casey."

Raph caught how Talia's fingers curled slightly around her drink. "He was there? The friend you had not seen in months?"

Raph gave a stiff nod. "The same one."

April leaned forward, voice lowered than usual. "Are you guys sure it was him? I mean, there has to be a ton of guys out there who match his description!"

"But how many of them have a mullet? Besides, I know because I talked to him."

Mikey spat out his chocolate milk. "You what?!" he rasped.

"I went to go talk to him. In uniform."

"You went to see him without me? Dude! We could've discussed so much about the movies that came out so far!"

"He's my best friend."

"You think that makes you special? He's known all of us— minus Taly— for years! The betrayal!"

"Gotta agree with Mikey," April pointed out. "But real talk, Raph. Does Leo or Donnie or anyone else know?"

"If they did, you think I'd be here?"

"You're right. Leo's gonna kill you."

"Leo and dad are definitely gonna kill you," Mikey agreed. "And then they're gonna resurrect you just to kill you again."

"What did he say?" Talia asked calmly.

Raph hesitated before answering. "He said he wasn't there for himself. He's trying to find a friend of his— Ana, is her name. He thinks the Russians did something to her."

April held up her hand. "Woah, there. Friend? Don't you mean girlfriend?"

"He said friend."

"You know to Jones that it's potato, potahto."

"Well, whether he meant girlfriend or not, he's serious enough to put himself in danger for her."

"That is so sweet," Talia said. "The fact that he cares, that is."

April absorbed in this, input, "Did he tell you anything else? About the drugs? Shredder?"

Raph shook his head. "Nothing. He's in deep; just not deep enough."

Talia rested her elbow on the table. Her stormy eyes deepened. "How will you get him out?"

"I don't know. Even if I manage to, I don't know how the Russians will react. And what about Shredder's ninjas? They saw Casey. They'll consider him a liability."

"I think there is also to worry about Ana. If her disappearance was premeditated, you have to wonder who she crossed or if she unearthed something that would make someone else nervous. What if Casey were to discover the truth as well and as a result, he could disappear? He might find himself deeper than he realized."

Raph clenched his fists. That's what he was afraid of.

"Guys, I think we should start holding our secret ninja meetings somewhere a little more private," Mikey suggested. "Like, I don't know— a janitor's closet?"

April rolled her eyes. "And smell like bleach? No thanks. Why don't we just go up to the rooftop? Who's gonna notice?"

"That just sounds even more suspicious."

Raph blocked out their bickering. His focus was on the cafeteria window. Cliques traded jokes and gossip. Some of the band kids plucked their guitars, one even taking a go singing into their microphone. Busy, lively chatter. Until. . .

Raph could barely swallow his meat loaf. He saw him. Again. Mak. Earbuds plugged in, swinging a lunch bag by his side. They both shared a brief glimpse. Couldn't have lasted for more than two seconds, but Raph felt something. It felt like the two shared something, like a bolt of lightning. Then, just as quickly, Mak disappeared into the crowd.

"Are you alright, Raph?" That was Talia. She must've noticed him tense up.

"It's nothing." Raph exhaled through his nose. "Just Mak."

Talia tilted her head. "Have you spoken to him since the pep rally?"

"No. And it's better that way."

Mikey looked between them. "Wait, do you still believe he's just some random dude caught in the crossfire?"

"That's what he said. He knows you and I are ninjas, but he's not gonna snitch us out. Poor guy seemed terrified."

If that were true, though, then why did Raph keep seeing him at every turn? Wouldn't Mak do everything in his power to keep away from him? Even transfer schools?

Talia crossed her arms. "That doesn't mean you cannot be his friend."

Raph scoffed. "What's the point? It's going to be awkward between us."

"You revealed your secret to me and April, and yet I would say things are not awkward between us."

"That's different. Besides. . ."

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind. Forget it."

Another hum. Talia went back to her notes, but something told Raph she was already making a list of possibilities in her head.

Raph tried to enjoy his food. But his mind kept drifting back to the way Mak looked at him. Was it just him, or did it almost looked like he knew something? Or maybe it was just a misinterpretation? But then what was that little 'shock' he felt? Okay, what if he was only overreacting?

Remember, Raph: just a coincidence. Quit overthinking it.