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Neil toyed with a cigarette, watching as the fiery bud of red neared ever closer to the tips of his fingers. He could feel the flame against his skin, reminding him of his mother’s harsh hands. If she could see him now… well, it didn’t bear thinking about. Neil didn’t believe in any of that stuff anyway.
Mary Hatford was not watching from a cloud or a star, doting on him from the afterlife. No, that woman was dead and gone, buried on a nondescript beach in California with nothing but a burned up shell of a car for a grave marking.
But that was the past, and Neil did his best not to dwell on anything further back than the year he had been at Millport High School. It was not a nice place by any means, but Neil had come to think of it with fondness after all the time he spent loitering in it. At the very least, it provided him with lukewarm showers and lunch five days a week, so he really couldn’t complain. It was certainly nicer than most of the accommodations Mary had cooked up for them while on the run.
Their little Exy team had just defeated Millport’s biggest rivals, and Neil was sure his teammates were celebrating rather rambunctiously at the team captain’s house. Neil couldn’t be bothered to join them, and they had learned by now not to try too hard when inviting him to functions. Every time, without fail, Neil said no, and he wouldn’t ruin his perfect record just because of an unsurprising win.
So, Neil found himself alone after the game. He stood just outside the locker room, in the little grassy alley that led onto the football field. He had gone through two cigarettes already, their withered skeletons littering the grass around him.
The third one would be his last-- he couldn’t afford to keep buying new packs of cigarettes, and they were hard to steal due to them being stationed directly behind the clerk on duty at the local gas station.
He wasn’t able to savor it as much as he would have liked, however, because the rusty creak of the locker room door startled him into dropping it. He glared at the intruder: none other than Coach Hernandez, the current bane of Neil’s existence.
“I didn’t see your parents at the game.”
Hm, the man just liked to make situations worse for himself, didn’t he? Neil almost didn’t grace him with a response, but the sincere expression on the man’s face forced Neil’s hand.
“They couldn’t make it.”
Hernandez hummed. “It was a big game.”
Neil couldn’t hold back some snark. “Oh really?” He scoffed, then toed at the ground with a scowl. “They didn’t miss much. I’ll text them the score later.” There wasn’t a worse fate in Neil’s mind than having his father watch him play Exy again. The only time the man had bothered to show up to one of his games had been Neil’s one and only practice at Castle Evermore.
“There’s someone here to see you,” Hernandez said suddenly.
A spike of fear shot down Neil’s spine, causing a slight tremor in his chest as he eyed Hernandez. Those were not words he ever liked to hear, not when his father was constantly on Neil’s tail.
Without a second thought, Neil shouldered his bag and made to leave, but he was too late. Another figure appeared from behind the locker room door, and for a moment, all Neil could see was the looming presence of his father. Then, the fog cleared and an unfamiliar face was revealed.
“I don’t know you,” Neil said, trying to make himself sound sure of the words. It wasn’t impossible that this was one of his father’s faceless henchmen, but Nathan usually sent men higher up on the food chain to catch his wayward daughter.
“He’s here to recruit you,” Hernandez butted in.
“Bullshit.”
“I sent out your tapes. I think his team would be a good fit.”
“Fuck this. I’m out.” Neil turned toward the stranger, “Sorry he wasted your time, I’m not interested.”
This was the furthest thing from what Neil needed right now. He was tired from the game, and his ribs were smarting from a hit he had taken in the second half and the press of bandages tied tightly around his chest. All he wanted to do was go back to the house he had been squatting in and sleep for thirteen hours.
Unfortunately, with this new development, Neil would have to pack up and leave Millport behind. Already, he was planning the nearest escape route: where the closest money stash was and where he could get a passable fake ID.
“Here me out,” the man said, as if there was any hope for Neil. “A five year-contract, including a full ride to college and the chance to play Class I Exy.”
Neil didn’t try to hold back an eye roll. “No thanks,” he said with finality, and went to leave. A raging part of him told him not to turn his back on the two men, lest they do something in reaction to Neil’s belligerence, but another part of him told him that Hernandez had never so much as raised a hand at him. The coach would probably step in if this college guy tried anything.
“Anyone else would be jumping for this opportunity. You’d make a hell of a living later on, and you’d be playing with Kevin Day.”
Okay, now Neil was really fucked. This wasn’t just some coach, this was David Wymack, head coach for the Palmetto State Foxes, and, most importantly, Kevin fucking Day.
Neil went to leave again, quicker that time, but was blocked. Throughout their conversation, Wymack had slowly walked around Neil until he stood in the exit of the alleyway. Neil wasn’t sure if the man had done it on purpose, but it didn’t matter. He would just have to go through the building instead; a more roundabout route but ultimately it didn’t matter as long as he was far, far away from the Palmetto State Foxes.
He pushed through the door into the locker room, dodging the hand Hernandez shot out to stop him. Once in the building, he broke into a run, formulating a plan on how to get the hell out of Millport the quickest.
Technically he didn’t have to stop at the house he had been squatting in as he never left the essentials behind at “home”. All he would be leaving was a few hundred dollars in cash that he didn’t care to bring to school with him every day (too many questions) and a stockpile of junk food. He had his binder, his bandages, and his papers: everything he would need to start a new life in some other shithole town.
Later, Neil would tell himself that he had just been too tired from the game to dodge the racket swinging at his abdomen with intent to maim, but in reality, he had just not seen it. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be in the room with him. Stupid, he told himself. He was so stupid. He always, always had to be alert, even if he was assumed to be alone.
In any case, he found himself on the floor within feet of the exit of the locker room, the air knocked violently from his lungs. Suddenly, the constriction of the bandages around his chest became unbearable. The pain had been building throughout the day, a steady compression of his ribs, but now he truly could not breathe.
Neil rolled onto his side involuntarily, clutching his chest as his lungs seized. Two boys stood over him, one wielding the racket that had been Neil’s downfall, and the other-- the other was Kevin Day. Number two, Riko Moriyama’s brother in all but blood.
For a moment, all Neil could see was a little boy’s tear stained face as he watched some poor guy bleed for his transgressions against Nathan. Kevin had thrown up that day, but he hadn’t been hit for it like Neil would have been. Instead, he and a scowling Riko were ushered away by their uncle while Neil stood beside his father.
Fortunately, he was snapped back into reality by the sound of the back door slamming open. It had only been a few seconds since he had left the two coaches behind in the little alley, although it had felt like much longer.
Wymack took in the scene within seconds, a grim expression darkening his face. “Christ, Minyard, what did I tell you? Easy on him.”
“Would you rather I had let him go?” A voice drawled.
Although the Minyard twins were nearly identical, Neil had to guess that this one was Andrew, based on the guy’s violent tendencies and the manic gleam in his eye. Neil knew of the man due to his proximity (and fierce protectiveness) to Kevin Day, and his run in with the police not too long ago that made headlines in the Exy world. Ever since Andrew had beaten off a group of homophobic idiots away from his cousin, he had been on mood altering drugs, supposedly to discourage further violence.
Neil didn’t think they were doing anything to lessen the guy’s homicidal urges.
By then, Neil had gotten his breath back and staggered to his feet. Hernandez tried to help, but Neil shook off his coach’s hand, still smarting from the betrayal. Distantly, he understood that the coach thought he was doing what was best for Neil, but he couldn’t escape reality. Hernandez sending out his tapes was literally the worst thing the man could have done.
“Look, he’s good as new,” Andrew smirked, leaning on the stolen racket.
“Fuck you,” Neil said, still clutching his ribs from the blow they had received.
Despite himself, Neil couldn’t help but be impressed. The swing had been a glimpse into Andrew’s success, the reason why he could launch an Exy ball clear across the court with dead accuracy.
Of course, Neil chose to ignore these thoughts-- his obsession could wait a few minutes until he was safe from prying eyes.
“I said I won’t sign with you,” he said. “I won’t play with Kevin Day.” He was giving too much away, dammit, but his mind was still three steps back in time, knocked out of his brain in one strong swoop of Andrew’s stolen racket.
“Yes you will,” Kevin said matter of factly. “Anyone would.”
“Good thing I’m not anyone. I’m no one, my stats are shit, you shouldn’t even be considering me,” Neil almost pleaded with the people in the room, trying to convince them of his unimportance to them.
“Kevin says we have to have you, so we’re not leaving until we have your signature,” Wymack said, crossing his arms. He had flame tattoos crawling up the side of his right arm, very recognizable, very stupid. Anyone looking for him would be able to find him, although Neil supposed the man probably didn’t have to worry about murderous family members and/or the mafia.
“Your stats are shit. We shouldn’t be considering you. But your coach had the foresight to send in tapes instead of a stat sheet. You won’t be any help to the Foxes in your current state, but the drive I saw in you… it’ll help. You have potential.”
Kevin’s little speech looked as though it pained him. He obviously wasn’t used to groveling to get someone to sign onto his team: people had practically thrown themselves at the Ravens, hoping to get a spot on their extensive lineup.
“It’s not a good idea,” Neil muttered.
Wymack stepped in once more. “Who cares? You want to play Exy, we want you to play Exy. It sounds like a done deal.”
And Neil… Neil couldn’t find it in himself to object.
What he had been doing for the past several years with his mother could not be considered living, it had been stone cold survival. Neil thought it might be nice to try out some living for once. His mother wasn’t there to object anymore; ultimately it was his own decision. If he wanted to be suicidal, then he damn well could be.
Still, he wasn’t going to be rash. “I have to talk to my parents,” he said.
“Why?” Kevin asked bluntly, “You’re nineteen, you can sign for yourself.”
Neil was not, in fact, nineteen, but he was of legal age anyway. “I still need to talk to them.”
Kevin rolled his eyes and looked at Wymack as if the man could do anything, but Neil wasn’t budging on this.
“Fine,” Wymack said, “Let us give you a ride home, at least.”
“I like to walk.”
Wymack relented once he realized that tension was slowly growing in the room. Hernandez was antsy due to the abuse Andrew inflicted upon Neil, Andrew was generally manic, Kevin was itching to get a pen in Neil’s hands, and all Neil wanted was to get the hell out of this room.
Neil thought that might be the end of it, but Wymack’s eyes narrowed in on him further. The man glanced at his players, “Meet me in the car, I’ll only be a minute.” Then he looked back at Neil, “Can I talk to you for a second?”
They met eyes for a moment, a silent battle waging between them as Wymack seemed to vie for Neil’s trust.
Fuck it, Neil decided. He was already taking several risks, what would a few more hurt? Wymack was bigger and probably stronger, but Neil could take him on if the man grew violent. A few minutes of conversation wouldn’t kill Neil, especially if it got Kevin Day and Andrew Minyard out of the room.
He nodded and waved at Hernandez to leave the room. The man hesitated for a moment before making his way out. Before he stepped into his office, Hernandez said, “I’ll see you next week, kid.”
Neil nodded, but it was a lie. He never planned on coming back to this place. Even if he signed with the Foxes, he would have to move around a lot to shake up his trail before he stayed put for as long as he lasted in college.
“Look,” Wymack started, “it’s your parents, right? They’re the ones that are hurting you?”
For a moment, Neil was taken aback, but Wymack did not give him an opportunity to stand up for his fake parents.
“If you sign with us, you can come to Palmetto early. Andrew and his crew are always hanging around, so you won’t be alone on campus. There’s room for you.”
It sounded like a nightmare: extended time with Kevin Day and Andrew Minyard without anyone else as a barrier, but Neil couldn’t stop thinking about it. Instead of bus stops and motels, his summer would look like private practices and warm showers.
“After your graduation, you can come right up.” Wymack paused for a moment, before venturing further. “Will your parents be an issue?”
“No,” Neil murmured. “They won’t be.”
He was stupid for doing this, unbelievably fucking stupid, but at least he was free. He would play exy while he had the chance, and if that left him open for his father’s people to find him then so be it.