Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
"You're the only one here who can succeed her," Wymack said. "Didn't you notice? They're uniting around and behind you. That's something special. You're something special."
"You don't even who know I am."
"The hell I don't," Wymack said. "You're Neil Josten, nineteen year-old recruit from Millport, Arizona. Born March 31st, five-foot-three, right-handed, stick size three. Starting striker for my Foxes and most improved freshman striker in NCAA Class I Exy.
"No," Wymack said, getting louder when Neil started to interrupt. "Look me in the eye and tell me if you think I care who you used to be. Hm?" Wymack stabbed a finger up at his face, then jabbed it into the table. "I care about who you are right now and who you can be going forward. I'm not asking you to forget your past, but I am telling you to overcome it."
"I can't captain them," Neil said. "I won't."
"This isn't a democracy," Wymack said. "You don't get to vote on what you do or don't want to do. I make the rules and you get to deal. And you are going to deal with it. You need this as much as they need you. Give me one good reason why you'd try to turn this down."
"I—" Neil said, but he couldn't say "I'm dying". He couldn't tell Wymack he wouldn't live long enough to take the position. "I have to go."
He was afraid Wymack would argue, but all Wymack said was, "See you Monday."
Neil thought he'd breathe easier once he got out of the stadium, but his chest was still too tight when he stumbled out onto the sidewalk. He stared at the empty parking lot, heart pounding in his temples. The thought of going back to Fox Tower and facing his teammates right now made his stomach hurt, but there was nowhere else to go. He should run it off, burn himself down to fumes until he couldn't think or feel anymore, but Neil's feet stayed planted on the sidewalk. Maybe they knew he wouldn't stop if he ran now.
He sank to the curb to buy himself time, but his thoughts kept twisting in anxious circles. Neil felt a half-second from losing his mind, but then Andrew said his name and Neil's thoughts ground to a startled halt. He was belatedly aware of his hand at his ear and his fingers clenched tight around his phone. He didn't remember pulling it from his pocket or making the decision to dial out. He lowered it and tapped a button, thinking maybe he'd imagined things, but Andrew's name was on his display and the timer put the call at almost a minute already.
Neil put the phone back to his ear, but he couldn't find the words for the wretched feeling that was tearing away at him. In three months championships would be over. In four months he'd be dead. In five months the Foxes would be right back here for summer practices with six new faces. Neil could count his life on one hand now. On the other hand was the future he couldn't have: vice-captain, captain, Court. Neil had no right to mourn these missed chances. He'd gotten more than he deserved this year; it was selfish to ask for more.
He should be grateful for what he had, and gladder still that his death would mean something. He was going to drag his father and the Moriyamas down with him when he went, and they'd never recover from the things he said. It was justice when he'd never thought he'd get any and revenge for his mother's death. He thought he'd come to terms with it but that hollow ache was back in his chest where it had no right to be. Neil felt like he was drowning.
Neil found his voice at last, but the best he had was, "Come and get me from the stadium."
Andrew didn't answer, but the quiet took on a new tone. Neil checked the screen again and saw the timer flashing at seventy-two seconds. Andrew had hung up on him. Neil put his phone away and waited.
It was only a couple minutes from Fox Tower to the Foxhole Court, but it took almost fifteen minutes for Andrew to turn into the parking lot. He pulled into the space a couple inches from Neil's left foot and didn't bother to kill the engine. Kevin was in the passenger seat, frowning silent judgment at Neil through the windshield. Andrew got out of the car when Neil didn't move and stood in front of Neil.
Neil looked up at him, studying Andrew's bored expression and waiting for questions he knew wouldn't come. That apathy should have grated against his raw nerves but somehow it steadied him. Andrew's disinterest in his psychological well-being was what had drawn Neil to him in the first place: the realization that Andrew would never flinch away from whatever poison was eating Neil alive.
"I don't want to be here today," Neil said.
"We were almost to the interstate," Andrew said.
It was the most half-hearted invitation to come along that Neil had ever heard, but Neil didn't care. Andrew had turned around and come back for him without hesitation. That was more than enough reason to get up and go with him. Neil climbed in behind the passenger seat and stared out the window. Kevin glanced back at him but said nothing, and Andrew got them moving before his door had even slammed all the way closed.
They didn't ask what was wrong, so Neil didn't ask why they were taking I-85 toward Atlanta. They were the longest two hours of Neil's life, but the silence and the illusion of escaping Palmetto State University helped Neil pull his head back together. By the time they made it to Alpharetta he'd sunk to a comfortable numbness. Last night's sleeplessness started to catch up with him and he let himself nod off. He woke when Andrew's phone rang, but Andrew was only on the call long enough to say, "Don't." A couple minutes later they pulled into a dealership. Kevin got out as soon as Andrew parked. Andrew killed the engine and tossed his keys in the now-empty passenger seat.