Alex sat in his English Literature class on Thursday morning.
The room was warm. The teacher, Mr. Keating, was reading Hamlet.
"To be, or not to be," Mr. Keating recited dramatically. "That is the question."
Alex rested his chin on his hand. His eyes were heavy.
To press, or not to press, Alex thought. That is the real question.
He was exhausted. The Dortmund game had drained him. The travel, the noise, the running. His body felt like it was made of lead.
"Mr. Finch?"
Alex snapped his head up. "Yes, sir?"
"Is something troubling you?" Mr. Keating asked. "You look like you are carrying the weight of Denmark on your shoulders."
"Just... gravity, sir," Alex mumbled. "And lactic acid."
"Well, try to stay awake. Hamlet dies in the end. Spoilers."
Alex nodded. He didn't want to die. He wanted to win.
He walked out of school. It was raining. Again.
The black SUV was waiting. Mark was in the driver's seat. He was wearing a sleeping mask... on his forehead.
