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“The investment it would take to get it to that point would be too costly.”
Amity poked her head into the room, trying to soothe her rising nerves. Her parents sat together on the couch. Mom sipped from a cup of tea, the saucer sitting on the table beside her. Dad was writing on his tablet, glancing between it and Mom as he spoke. “But it would hold up better in the long term.”
They were both in here. Great. That saved Amity some trouble.
Mom tapped her chin with her free hand. “Perhaps there’s a way to get the best of both worlds. If we-”
Amity cleared her throat, stepping into the open doorway.
She looked over, raising an eyebrow.
Amity stood her ground against the urge to back out and leave. “I need to talk to you.”
“Can it wait, dear? Your father and I are discussing business.”
Amity took a breath. Do it now, get it other with. Don’t back down. “No. It can’t.”
Her mom narrowed her eyes, and for a moment Amity braced herself to get snapped at.
“Very well.” Mom leaned back into the couch. “This had better be important, then.”
Amity walked over, planting herself firmly in front of them, hands at her sides and chin up. She needed to appear confident. No signs of weakness. Like she wasn’t mentally flipping through all her points like flashcards.
Mom met her gaze coolly, only a hint of annoyance in her expression.
Dad kept doodling on his tablet.
Mom cleared her throat. “Alador, Amity has something important to tell us.”
“Yes, yes, I’m listening.” He looked up.
Amity met both their gazes. “I’m leaving the Grudgby team.” Clear. Concise. Firm. A statement, not a question.
Judging by her father’s rapid blinking and mother’s stiffened shoulders, she had caught them off guard.
“And why would you do that?” Mom asked, taking another sip. Her voice only slightly betrayed her disapproval. “You did wonderfully in your last game. You won the Isles championship for the entire school.”
I failed my teammates. I got them hurt. “It would be best if I focused more on magic studies than sport right now.”
“Oh? Are your grades slipping? Have you not been properly applying yourself?”
A leading question. Her mother was attempting to back her into a corner, get her to equivocate leaving the team to being lazy. Amity wouldn’t fall for it.
“Not at all. I’ve been putting all my time into my studies. My grades are perfect.” You know that, you watch them like a nightowl tailing its prey.
“The Emperor’s Coven looks for sports, Amity. Especially Grudgby. You’re captain of the champion team on the Isles, are you not?”
Not a good one. “I am. But I’ve already proven myself in Grudgby. My coach and players will all vouch for me and my skills in magic, strength, agility, and leadership. The entire Isles knows I won the championship. There's no longer a need for me to be on the team to prove that.”
“Blights aren’t quitters, Amity.” Her mother’s voice grew dangerously close to displeased.
Nerves fluttered in Amity’s stomach. Don’t back down. Do not back down. “I’m not quitting.” A pitch should be all positives, no negatives. Twist the wording, reframe it to be more appealing to the audience. “I’m simply readjusting my priorities to better suit my goals. If I want to get into the Emperor’s Coven, I need to be putting more time into my studies.”
“Captaining Hexside’s Grudgby team has an excellent appeal to the Emperor’s Coven, as we’ve discussed.” Great. Mom saw this as her backing out of an agreement. “And I fail to see how it interferes with your studies. You’ve been getting perfect scores, haven’t you?”
Don’t admit the weaknesses of a pitch--twist them into strengths. “I have. But I need more than just perfect grades. I need more broad, unique skills and experiences than any other witch my age. To make time for that, I need to quit Grudgby.” Dammit! She shouldn't have said “quit,” Blights didn’t quit.
Her mother put her teacup down on the saucer, crossing her arms. Her expression betrayed more and more disapproval. Amity’s chest squeezed. “Where is this coming from? You did splendidly this entire season. You single handedly won that last game. Multiple influential people across the Isles have contacted me just to praise how incredible you were.”
Amity refused to feel pleased by that. She hadn’t earned it.
“Your team is the Isles’ school champion, with you at its head as captain and, surely, after that game, as star player.”
She couldn’t enjoy the possibility; the idea of taking that title from Boscha made her feel more hollow now. She would’ve earned it by getting Boscha sent to the Healing Coven.
“Do you know what that fame can do for the family’s reputation?” her mother continued. “For your future? Why would you want to give up now?”
Before Amity could stop it, the truth slipped from her mouth. “My teammates got hurt.”
Oh no. She hadn’t just said that. No, no, no, she had not just said that.
Her mother frowned. “And? That’s part of the game, Amity.”
“I know.” She needed a way to backtrack, now. Some way that made that not seem like the reason she wanted to leave. “I just meant, the victory wasn’t as perfect as you made it sound.”
Something dangerous lit Odalia Blight’s eyes, boring into Amity like a dagger. “A Blight needs to be willing to do anything to achieve victory,” she said, deliberately. “You know that, don’t you, Amity?”
Dang it. She hadn’t bought it. Dang it. “Of course I do. That’s why I need to focus my attention on what matters. Coven tryouts are right around the corner,” Over a year, but still, “and I need to be able to outshine everyone and prove they should accept me. I have plenty of Grudgby experience; every bit of time I have left needs to go into studying.”
Her mother’s furrowed eyebrows and tense jaw told Amity she was pushing it. Pushing it too far.
She put her hands on her hips so she wouldn’t tug on her shirt. Don’t back down. I will not back down. I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t. I can’t.
She couldn’t let her teammates get hurt again. She couldn’t let the people she was responsible for leading down, because of her own selfishness. Her own so-very-Blight desire for a flashier victory. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself. She could barely live with herself now.
It was weak. She knew that. But then maybe Amity was weak. Maybe she was okay with that, if it meant not getting anyone else hurt.
“Hm,” was the only response she received. Her mother turned to Dad. “What do you think, dear?”
He looked up from his tablet, glancing between them. “What?”
“Amity’s trying to quit the Grudgy team. Right after she won the Isles championship for her team.” Annoyance crept into her mother’s voice. “Do try to keep up, dear.”
“Right.” He frowned at Amity. “Why would you want to do that? I thought you won your last game.”
Amity crossed her arms, frustration rising inside her. “I need more time to devote to working on my magic. Everyone already knows I’m a great Grudgby captain,” the lie burned her tongue, but she forced herself to say it anyway, “and I need to focus on getting better at magic if I want to get in.”
“But the Emperor’s Coven likes to recruit Grudgby players.”
Titan below, did he even hear what she just said?
Thankfully, her mother intervened. “Have you discussed this with Lilith?”
The thought of bringing it up to Lilith made Amity’s stomach churn. She didn’t want to talk about it to anyone. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to step foot on a Grudgby field, or touch a Grudgby ball, or look her teammates in the eyes ever again. She wanted this whole ordeal to be done, and over, so she could live her life without this horrible, cold dread seeping into every part of her body and whispering that she was going to fail the people she was responsible for leading again. That her failures were going to get those people hurt.
Focus on the pitch, Amity. Make it appealing.
Don’t admit it when there’s no good answer to someone’s question. Find a way to turn it into a point for your argument. “Lilith knows that physical capability is important to the Emperor’s Coven, but it’s not the most or only important thing. Like I said,” she shot her father a pointed look, but he was already focused on his tablet, “the entire Isles knows I was the captain who led Hexside to the championship.” She chose the past tense deliberately; leaving wasn’t a question, it had already happened. No use arguing with it now. “The Emperor’s Coven doesn’t need me to play the afterseason or next season to know how capable I am.”
“Hmm. But why do you need so much extra time to devote to your studies?” The poison in her mother’s expression had softened. That was a good sign. “Surely you're capable with the time you have now. Why do you need assistance?”
Just a bit more. Amity was close to convincing her, she just needed to make the idea a bit more appealing. Play into what her mother already wanted, make the pitch fit with that preconceived idea. “I am capable. But not as capable as if I could devote all my time to it. I can’t miss out on my future because I wasn’t willing to give my all from the start.”
Her mother nodded slowly. Now, if Amity didn’t quit she was risking her future, not the other way around. Premature relief snuck its way into the bundle of nerves that was her stomach.
“The most gruelling part of the season is over, isn’t it?” her mother said finally. “You don’t have any games. There’s not much time to be devoted to a few practices. Let some other player handle most of the captain’s duties and keep the title.”
Amity’s stomach sank. Images of her teammates, injured on the field because of her own stupid, selfish mistake flashed through her mind. No. No. I can’t, I can’t do that again. I can’t.
Don’t back down. Do not back down. “But I need all the time I can get. Not just a little more.”
Her mother pursed her lips, tapping the handle of her cup as she thought.
Amity was losing her. She needed to sell her pitch more. What would make it seem less like she was giving up? More like an investment in the family and her future?
A makeshift idea began to take shape in her head. Before it could even completely form, she blurted out, “Of course, I wouldn’t have to leave the team completely. I would coach Boscha from the bench while she settles in as captain.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow--not in disapproval, but in interest.
“The Emperor’s Coven values leadership, especially in people expecting to rise to the top.” Yes. Yes, this made sense. This worked. “I could show that not only was I a great captain, but I could even bring out the leadership in others.” She wouldn’t have to play, or call any of the shots. She couldn’t hurt anyone. “If I want to rise through the ranks of the Emperor’s Coven, they need to know that I can leave a leadership position even better than it was before. If anything, I would be an even more appealing candidate than if I just stayed on as captain until tryouts.”
Her mother took a long sip of her tea, contemplating.
Maybe that was too much. She had rambled on, oversold her idea. She’d let it sound more like a suggestion than a statement. Oh Titan, she was going to have to stay on, she would have to play again, she was going to fail everyone-
“Very well. If Lilith has no problem with this plan, I see no issue. Do you, darling?”
Dad was still on his tablet. He gave a noncommittal hum.
Mom sighed. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’” She waved a dismissive hand at Amity. “Now run along, dear, your father and I still have business matters to discuss.”
Amity nodded, relief crashing over her with such force she could barely think. She turned to leave, but her mother added, “And, Amity?”
She froze. Oh Titan, what now?
Mom smiled. “That was an excellent pitch. Good work.”
Amity felt her face flush with pride, relief still buzzing in her mind. She said something respectful, she wasn’t sure what, and hurried out of the room. Her parents’ voices picked up again, talking about sales and products and whatever.
Amity waited until she was completely out of sight to wipe a few stupid, silly tears away.
Thank the Titan. She didn’t have to play. She never had to play that game again. She could never get her teammates hurt like that, ever again.
This whole ordeal could fade into a memory she could soon forget.