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The cigarette in his hand burns down to the filter. His other hand is in his mouth, he chews on the fingers. While it’s self destructive to light a cigarette only to have the image of his mother's burning body rise up behind his eyelids, he does it anyway. Even after he’s exhausted himself by masking. Hence, the fingers in his mouth.
He looks up at the stars that twinkle above him. The world gets to be too much for Neil sometimes. Far, far too much. Too loud, especially.
He has his headphones in now, playing three of his mother's favorite songs on repeat. They calm him down the same way that the fingers in his mouth does. If he hadn’t been diagnosed with autism when he was younger, he wouldn’t have been able to explain it. He knows he shouldn’t gnaw on his fingers, but he can’t help it.
His head snaps over to the doors to the locker room as the light filters out, blocking out some of the stars. He reaches down and tugs his duffle closer, wiping his hands off on his jeans. It’s just Coach Hernandez, but it doesn’t stop him from being on edge.
He makes his way over to Neil after propping open the door. He holds out a hand for the cigarette. He stubs it out and Neil tugs out his headphones. He pushes them into his pocket with the MP3 player.
“I didn’t see your parents at the game.”
“They’re out of town,” Neil said. Liars squirmed, he forced his body to sit still, to not rock back and forth.
“Still or again?” Coach Hernandez asks.
Neil’s eyes flicker to the field in front of them being dismantled. The lingering smell of smoke, brings the image of his mother to mind. She’s dead and his father is in jail. The honest answer to Hernanadez’s question is yes.
Before Neil can give him an answer, a lie, Hernandez says, “I thought they’d make an exception tonight.”
Neil watches the men taking down the plexiglass. His smile is sad.
“No one knew it’d be the last game.”
It was the first honest thing out of his mouth since Coach sat down.
“I’ll call them later with the score. They didn’t miss much,” Neil lies. The opposing team destroyed them.
“Not yet, maybe. There’s someone here to see you.”
Neil’s fight or flight kicks in. He’s on his feet, bag over his shoulder and all, but he realizes it’s too late. Standing in the doorway to the locker rooms is a man covered in tattoos wearing a wife beater. In one hand he holds a thick folder. Dread settles in.
“I-I don’t know you,” Neil manages in his panic. Words were hard for him sometimes. His mom had taught him sign language, but what use is it if no one understands you?
“He’s from a University. He came to see you play tonight,” Hernandez offers as an explanation.
“Bullshit,” Neil says, eyes fixed on the floor. He has to work extra hard to get the words out. It doesn’t make sense to him. “No one recruits from Millport. No one knows where it is. And--” his voice breaks. “No one recruits people like me.”
“What? Fast and full of potential?” the man asks.
Neil’s eyes flicker from Hernandez to the other man. No one knew. He looked away fast. No one could ever know. It made it easier for his father’s men to find him.
“No one knows where Millport is,” Neil repeats. He didn’t want to explain it if he didn’t know.
“There’s this thing called a map,” the man from the University says.
Hernandez sighs. “He’s here because I sent him your file. He put out a note saying he was short a striker line, and I figured it was worth a shot. I didn’t tell you because I didn’ know if anything would come of it and I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”
Neil was angry. He’d trusted Hernandez. Trust no one, his mother always warned. She was right.
“You did what?”
“I tried contacting your parents when he asked for a face to face tonight, but they haven’t returned my messages. You said they’d try to make it.”
Neil moved like he might shake out his hands. He clenched them instead. “They did. They couldn’t,” he said, repeating his earlier lies.
“I can’t wait for them,” the man says, moving closer to Hernandez. “It’s stupid late in the season for me to be here, I know, but I had some technical difficulties wit my last recruit. Coach Hernandez said you still haven’t chosen a school for fall. Works out perfectly. Doesn’t it?”
No, not at all.
“I need a striker sub, and you need a team. All you have to do is sign the dotted line and you’re mine for five years.”
It was too good to be true. “You can’t be serious.”
“Very serious and very out of time,” he said.
He tossed the file onto the bench. Neil wondered if there was anything in there about Neil being autistic. Probably not. He fought the urge to open it up and read about Neil. He wasn’t real, after all.
His mom made him promise to never play again. Playing at Millport was a risk unto itself. Playing at a D1 school--out of the question.
He looks up at the man. “Please go away.”
“I need an answer tonight. The Committee’s been hounding me since Janie got locked up.”
Neil’s vision goes white for a second. His heart thunders in his chest. It clicks. Coach Wymack. “Foxes. Palmetto State University.” His breath catches. His fingernails dig into his palms and he’s dangerously close to shaking his hands out.
“I guess you saw the news,” he said.
Kevin Day just signed to Palmetto. This was his mother's worst nightmare come true. He took a step back.
“You can’t be here.”
“Yet here I stand. Need a pen?” Wymack asks.
“No. I am not playing for you,” he said.
Wymack doesn’t look amused. “I misheard you.”
“You signed Kevin,” he said stupidly.
“And Kevin’s singing you--”
Neil shoved past him. He did the only thing he knew how to do. He ran. No, not Neil. He couldn’t be Neil. Neil was too slow. He wasn’t fast enough.
Then, something hits him hard. He falls, his breath escaping him. He wheezes on the ground.
“God damn it, Minyard,” Wymack complains. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
Minyard. Andrew Minayrd.
“Oh Coach,” a voice says, presumably Andrew, “If he was nice he wouldn’t be of any use to us, would he?”
Neil coughs, his lungs remembering their purpose. He inhaled sharply, the world coming into focus again.
“He’s no use to us if you break him.”
“You’d rather I let him go? Put a band-aid on him and he’ll be good as new.”
Neil looked up at him. Really sees him for the first time.
The blonde midget that turned down Edgar Allan. His heart clenched. Riko must have been furious. Andrew was the best goalie in the game, he’d seen him play. His cousin and twin brother were signed too. Nicholas Hemmick and Aaron Minyard. Both backliners.
On the same line as Kevin Day. Kevin day who had recently suffered a hand injury that made him leave the Ravens.
Andrew stared down at Neil. He placed two fingers to his temple and saluted him. “Better luck next time.”
“Fuck you,” Neil said, trying to supresss his anger. “Whose racquet did you steal?”
“Borrow,” Andrew said. He tossed the yellow racquet to Neil. It wasn’t Neil’s. It was a teammate's stick. “Here you go.”
The racquet clattered to the floor. Neil just stared at Andrew.
Hernandez moved to help Neil up. Neil, normally not fond of being touched, let’s him. “Jesus, are you all right, kid?”
“Andrew’s a bit raw on manners,” Wymack said, apologizing without apologizing. “He break anything?”
He moves so he stands between Neil and Andrew. The blonde looks too disinterested, despite the manic smile, to try anything else, though. Neil pressed a hand to his side. He shakes his head. Neil’s had broken ribs before, they were fine now. Bruised, maybe.
“I’m fine,” Neil ground out. “Coach, I’m leaving. Let me go.”
“We’re not done,” Wymack persists.
“Coach Wymack,” Hernandez says, prepared to send him away.
“Give us a second,” Wymack suggests.
Hernandez looks to Neil, then back at Wymack. “I’ll be right out back.”
Neil stared at the ground as he left, feeling betrayed. The door shut behind him. He nudged the floor with his sneaker.
Keep yourself under control. Don’t let them see.
When the door shut completely, he’d recomposed himself enough to say: “I already gave you my answer. I wont sign with you.”
“You didn’t listen to my whole offer. If I paid to fly three people out here to see you the least you could do is give me five minutes, don’t you think?”
Three. The world tilted under his feet. He stepped back, his hand moving toward his mouth. He forced it back down feeling like he might throw up. There was a ringing in his ears. He swallowed the bile, looking up at him.
“You didn’t bring him here.”
“Is that a problem?”
Yes. It may cost him his life. He could visualize his tombstone.
“I’m not good enough to play on the same court as a champion,” he said, trying to calm down. His hands twitched at his sides.
Andrew raised an eyebrow at the hands. Neil shoved them in his pockets, trying not to draw attention to himself.
“True, but irrelevant,” a voice says.
Neil's whole body felt like it was on fire. He rocked slightly on his heels, overwhelmed. He felt everything his mother had died for crumble underneath him. He turned around despite himself. He felt ashamed for not having realized it sooner.
Kevin Day never went anywhere alone. That’s why Andrew was here.
And there he was. With the number two permanently etched into his face. The last time he’d seen him it had been drawn on in marker. Now he’d always be second to Riko, the King of the Court.
The last time he’d seen him, his father cut a man into pieces before them. They were kids. Surely Kevin remembered. Remembered him.
This was where it all ended. There was no future past this. This was how he died.
His hands moved first, signing the words. He’d done so without thinking, so numb with shock. Kevin glanced at Wymack in confusion.
Neil cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”
“Why were you leaving?” he challenged.
“I asked you first.”
“Coach already answered that question,” he said, growing impatient. “We are waiting for you to sign the contract. Stop wasting our time.”
“No,” Neil said. “There are a thousand strikers who’d jump as the chance to play with you. Why don’t you bother them?”
Go away. Go away.
“We saw their files,” Wymack said. “We chose you.”
They chose to execute him.
“I won’t play with Kevin.”
“You will.”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed,” Wymack said, “but we’re not leaving here until you say yes. Kevin says we have to have you, and he's right.”
Kevin stepped forward. Neil stumbled back.
“We should have thrown away your coach’s letter the second we opened it. Your file is deplorable and I don’t want someone with your inexperience on our court. It goes against everything we’re trying to do with the Foxes this year. Fortunately for you, your coach knew better than to send us your statistics. He sent us a tape so we could see you in action instead. You play like you have everything to lose.”
He had already lost everything. He played like it was all he had left, and it was.
He stared at Kevin, wondering if he recognized him. Neil certainly hadn’t forgotten the scrimmage interrupted by a man’s murder.
“That’s why.”
“That’s the only kind of striker worth playing with,” Kevin said.
Neil was shaking. Even if Kevin didn’t recognize him, he was reminded of the risk. He was reminded of what his mother died for. He’d stayed as Neil Josten for far too long.
“It actually works in our favor that you’re all the way out here,” Wymack explains, disrupting his thoughts. “No one outside of our team and school board even knows we’re here. We don’t want your face all over the news this summer. We’ve got too much to deal with right now and we don’t want to drag you into the mess until you’re safe and settled on campus. There's a confidentiality clause in your contract, says you can’t tell anyone until the season starts in August.”
Who would he even tell anyway?
Neil looked over to Kevin. “It’s not a good idea.”
For so many reasons.
“Your opinion has been duly noted and dismissed,” Wymack said, waving a hand. “Anything else, or are you going to start signing stuff?”
Neil considered running. The Foxes spend a lot of time in the spotlight. If he joined them, he’d be signing his death warrant.
If he left and ran, it’d just be a new name and more close calls. And without his mother, life was harder. The world was cruel, he didn’t like facing it alone.
He looked at the stick Andrew had hit him with. He didn’t want to give up Exy. He wanted to master it. Joining the Foxes could solve both of his dilemmas. Company and a chance to master the sport.
Even if the contract said five years--he didn’t have to stay that long.
“Well?”
He was at war with himself over this. He wanted this so bad, but he could hear his mother yelling, begging him to run.
“I have to ask my mother.”
“What for? You’re legal, aren’t you? Your file says your nineteen.”
He was eighteen, really. He was a lie in every way.
“I still need to ask.”
“She’ll be happy for you.”
“Maybe,” Neil lied.
Definitely not.
“I’ll talk to her tonight.”
“We can give you a lift home.”
“I’m fine.”
“Go wait in the car,” Wymack says, this time to Kevin and Andrew.
After they left, Wymack turned to Neil.
“You need one of us to talk to your parents.”
“I’m fine,” Neil repeats.
“Are they the ones who hurt you?”
Neil just stared at him. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten there and his patience was already wearing thin. He was getting frustrated now.
“Let’s try that again,” Wymack said, picking up on the confusion. “The reason I’m asking is because Coach Hernandez guesses you spend several nights a week here. He thinks there’s something going on since you won’t change with the others or let anyone meet your parents. That’s why he nominated you to me; he thinks you fit the line. You know what that means, right? You know the people I look for.
“I don’t know if he’s right, but something tells me he’s not far off. Either way, the locker rooms are going to be shut down once the school year ends. You’re not going to be able to come here during the summer. If your parents are a problem for you, we’ll move you to South Carolina early.”
“Move me to South Carolina early,” Neil echoes, surprised.
“Andrew’s lot stays in town for summer break,” Wymack explains. “They crash with Abby, our team nurse. Her place is full, but you could stay with me until the dorm opens in June. My apartment’s not made for two people but I’ve got a couch that’s a little softer than a rock.
“We’ll tell everyone you’re there for conditional early practice. Chances are half of them will believe it. You won’t be able to fool the rest, but that doesn’t matter. Foxes are Foxes for a reason and they know we wouldn’t sign you if you didn’t qualify. That doesn’t mean they know anything. It’s not my place to ask, and I’m sure as hell not going to tell them.”
Neil signed the word, unable to get it out. Wymack stared at him for a moment.
“Why?” he guessed. Neil blinked in surprise, nodding.
“Did you think I made the team the way it is because I thought it would be a good publicity stunt? It’s about second chances, Neil. Second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you.”
Neil wasn’t sure what to say. He was in shock.
“Are your parents going to be a problem,” he repeats.
Neil nodded. A big problem, actually.
“Your graduation ceremony is May eleventh, according to your coach. We’ll have someone pick you up from Upstate Regional Airport Friday the twelfth.”
Neil opened his mouth to point out that he never said yes. Wymack nudged the papers towards him.
“Keep the papers tonight. Your Coach can fax me the signed copies on Monday. Welcome to the line.”
Neil lowered his eyes to the floor. Wymack left him and he broke.
He shoved a finger in his mouth, chewing on it as he crumbled to the floor. He rocked himself back and forth. He tried to be quiet, tried to calm down. He shoved his headphones in again and listened to Should I Stay or Should I Go on full blast. He whimpered.
His mom would be so mad if she knew what he was doing. If she knew how stupid he was being. He was going to get himself killed.
Neil sat on the floor for a replay of the Clash before he got up. He rinsed his face with water and tried to calm himself down. He checked his roots out of habit. No red shone through. He breathed a bit easier, knowing that.
“University,” he said quietly to himself, like it was a precious secret. It sounded like a dream; it tasted like damnation.
He composed himself, putting the papers into his duffle. He walked out and right past the pair of coaches saying nothing.
When he passed Andrew, the blonde opened up the back door.
“Too good to play with us, too good to ride with us?”
Neil didn’t give him a response. He took off in a light jog.
He couldn’t help but wonder how long he had left with the contract in the bag to slow him down. Surely not long. This was, after all, his damnation.
-
“He hit you with an exy stick!” Ruby cried out. “That’s how you met?”
Henry looked bored next to Ruby in bed, having heard these stories before. He looked over at Neil. “Can I go to my room?”
“No,” Ruby said, grabbing his arm.
“Neil’s being over dramatic,” Andrew said from the doorway. “I didn’t hit him that hard.”
“Did too!”
Ruby giggled in delight. “When did you kiss him?”
Henry groaned, slouching in his seat.
“That’s for another night, okay? It’s past your bedtime.”
“I wanna stay up? Papa! Can I stay up?” Ruby pleaded to Andrew, knowing Neil would say no.
Henry snorted a laugh, getting up despite Ruby’s protest. Andrew took his spot and laid down next to Ruby.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll stay here and talk to you until you fall asleep okay? Daddy and Henry have to get to bed, though.”
Ruby hesitates but nods. She turns and kisses Neil’s cheek. She hugs him tight. “Night daddy!”
“Goodnight, love. Goodnight, ‘Drew.”
“Night, Bunny.”
Neil blushed at the nickname. He got up, flicking Ruby’s light off.
He laid down in his bed that night with a smile on his lips. He felt so far from the Neil that had met Andrew. The one that fought so hard to hide himself to the world. The one that lived as a lie.
He would never live as a lie again.