Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 87395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
"I might have gotten carried away," Neil said.
Wymack tossed the coffee to him. Neil caught it instinctively, but he couldn't hold onto it. It bounced off the floor at his feet and the lid popped off to spill grinds everywhere. Wymack stalked toward Neil with a snarled, "You idiot."
Retreating from a furious older man was so instinctive Neil didn't realize he'd flinched until Wymack froze. Wymack's face went almost dangerously blank and Neil dropped his gaze. He was careful not to look away from Wymack entirely. He needed to see when Wymack started moving again. He waited for Wymack to say something. After an endless, brittle silence, he realized Wymack wouldn't speak until he did.
"Today was my mistake," Neil said quietly. "It won't happen a second time."
Wymack didn't answer. He didn't come closer, either. At length he pointed at the ground in front of him. "Come here. No," he said when Neil started to reach for the mess at his feet. "Leave it."
Neil stepped over it and went to stand in front of Wymack: within arm's reach but just barely. He'd perfected that trick as a kid. He could look at anyone's arms and judge the safe distance from them in a heartbeat. If they had to move to hit him, he had enough time to dodge. Either way he wouldn't catch the full intended force of their blow.
"Look at me," Wymack said. "Right now."
Neil dragged his stare up from Wymack's chest to his face. Wymack's expression was still too blank for Neil to feel safe, but he knew better than to look away again.
"I want you to understand something," Wymack said. "I am a loud, grouchy old man. I like to yell and throw things. But I don't throw punches unless some punk is dumb enough to try me first. I have never, ever hit someone without provocation, and I'm sure as hell not going to start with you. You hear me?"
Neil didn't believe him, but he said, "Yes, Coach."
"I'm serious," Wymack said. "Don't you dare be more afraid of me than you are of Andrew."
Neil could have told him it was Wymack's age that made him such a problem, but he didn't think Wymack wanted to hear it. There was no solution to that problem. "Yes, Coach."
Wymack gestured over his shoulder and stepped aside. "I already ate, but I haven't put the leftovers away yet. I'll take care of this. You take care of you."
Neil ate to the sound of the vacuum. Wymack was in his office by the time Neil was done, and Neil retired to the couch early. He wanted to get his bag and go through his folder, but he didn't want to intrude on Wymack's space, so he stared at the ceiling until he finally fell asleep.
It took Neil two weeks to decide he'd never meet Kevin's standards. It got to the point where he saw Kevin's look of cool disapproval every time he blinked. Half of the time Neil didn't know what he was doing wrong and the other half he couldn't change. He clocked a faster mile than any of them, but they were better and stronger than he was. Kevin knew Neil was inexperienced, but he didn't forgive Neil for his mistakes. Neil didn't want pity, but he did want understanding. When he caved and asked Nicky for advice on how to deal with Kevin, Nicky only smiled and said, "I warned you."
It did nothing for Neil's fraying patience. Luckily being angry at himself and loathing Kevin's condescending version of coaching meant he didn't have time or energy to be afraid. Two weeks of playing with the dysfunctional group and Kevin still gave no signs of recognizing him. All Kevin cared about was how short Neil fell on his court—and as far as Neil could tell, it was shorter and shorter by the day. Two weeks of Kevin's scornful dismissal and rude commentary wore away at Neil's resolve to take it easy. He didn't care if he blew out his arms again if it meant Kevin would stop riding him like he was an incompetent preschooler.
Everything was for Exy, from his early morning run to the hours he clocked at the gym to the afternoon scrimmages to the longer run he took in the evenings after dinner. He made loops around the campus and went up and down the stairs in the stadium. No matter what he did he was too slow, and he went to sleep in so much pain every night he could barely change for bed. By the time his third week started, he couldn't even sleep because he was too busy analyzing the day's mistakes.
One night he cast aside his blankets in disgust and left the apartment. It was pitch black out, probably somewhere around two in the morning, and it was just cool enough he should've changed out of his pajama pants. He warmed up quickly as he set off for Palmetto State. There were few street lights around Wymack's neighborhood, but when Neil reached Perimeter Road, the winding street that surrounded Palmetto State, the path was better lit.
Neil knew the way to the stadium by heart even in the dark. There were a couple cars in the parking lot, as usual, and Neil thought he saw the moving figure of a security guard in the next lot. He punched in the code for the Foxes' entrance and opened the door, then stilled with his hand halfway to the light switch. The lights were already on.
Belatedly he realized he'd passed the cousins' car. He was so used to seeing it here when they met for scrimmages he hadn't thought it out of place. He frowned over his shoulder at it, wondering if Wymack had heard him leave and called the others to check on him, then pulled the door closed and jogged for the locker room.
He checked every room but found no sign anyone was there. He stretched out in the foyer before pushing through the back door. He heard the sound of a ball ricocheting off the wall, but with the stadium seating rising up to either side of the Foxes' entry hall, he couldn't see where on the court the others were. He was almost to the inner court before he finally spotted Kevin. Kevin was alone at firstfourth with a bucket of balls, and he was systematically heaving them at the wall. Neil watched in silence, wondering what odd sort of drill he was doing. It took Kevin a dozen shots before Neil realized he was trying to rebound them all from the same spot. Kevin was honing his right-handed aim.