Chapter Text
3/05/06
Neil josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. Zakaria doesn’t know why his mysterious teammate insists on doing such a wasteful task but he at least wishes that Neil wouldn’t do it around him, the acrid smell was gross. If hes being honest with himself, he doesn’t know much about Neil josten. If hes being really honest, he doesn’t really want to know more. The kid was fine, if not creepily quiet but Zakaria would much rather by at home, with his loving uncle and lovely cat. For some odd reason coach Hernandez asked him and neil to stay.
Zakaria shouldn’t be getting his hopes up. Seriously, he shouldn’t. no one recruits from fuckass Milport. Its an annoying quirk of the place that Zakaria is learning to live with. It was just so much more different in morocco. While zakaria has his own qaulms about his homeland, one thing he can say for sure is that its vibrant nature would send milport into a dozen epileptic shocks.
Coach Hernandez propped the locker door open and sat beside neil. Typical. Hernandez and zakaria don’t get along. Or to put it in the coach’s words zakaria openly ‘antagonizes his teammates too much’ whatever that means. Its not zakaria’s fault that a blind woman in her 40s has a better chance of getting the ball then some of his teammates. And its definitely not his fault that some of his more incessant teammates have colourful language consisting of both ethnic and queer slurs. It leaves a bitter taste in zakaria’s mouth that he counts under the label ‘queer’ or whatever it is that people like him are calling themselves. Hes not like them though, with their effeminate looks and strange obsession with rainbows. Zakaria holds himself from to a different standard. Another thing that zakaria finds really fucking annoying is the amount of times hes been called a terrorist. It doesn’t even elicit a reaction anymore. Well other than that asshole from last week but he deserved to get punched-
‘Muddathir! Get your ass over here’ Hernandez said.
Sighing, zakariah quickly ran over to coach (who seemed to have let neil go) where he noticed a tall, dark skin woman standing near him. She had thick lashes, an arched nose and a don’t fuck with me attitude. What the hell did he do now? Is she the mother of the kid from last week? Seriously what a fucking pussy, it was a black eye for gods sake. Zakaria doesnt think he's a violent person. in fact he's not. He doesnt
‘look coach, Im not sure what I did but ive never seen this woman in my-‘
‘already making excuses? This one is a troublemaker then eh?’ the woman said with a sly smirk
If he already didn’t like this woman now he REALLY doesn’t like her.
Coach Hernandez cleared his throat. ‘Zakaria, meet Genevieve Lewis. Exy original and coach of the UNC spiders’
‘you mean the same spiders who are currently losing every single game they play?’
You might think that zakaria is an idiot for denying this opportunity. Much to everyones surprise, zakaria actually does feel a sense of fulfillment and happiness when playing exy, even if he’s constantly annoyed by the people around him. But even he has his limits. The spiders are known for excessive fighting both on and off the court. Theyre basically all maniacs. And they aren’t even good at what they do. The golden years of the spiders shriveled and died four years ago when the would be captain of the current spiders team (Zakaria think her name was hyun jae?) was in her second year. Theyre just a bunch of people who keep losing. Zakaria was not a loser.
Zakaria didn’t even get to enjoy the satisfaction of insulting a D1 team before Coach Hernandez smacked the back of his head. Not hard. Zakaria is still really annoyed by that though
Genevieve¬ apparently “Coach Lewis” but she didn’t seem like the type who cared about titles,raised her brows in a slow, unimpressed arc. “Charming,” she said. “Real team-captain material, this one. Is he like this all the time or am I just blessed today?”
“Don’t encourage him,” Hernandez muttered. “He already thinks he’s the second coming of Exy Jesus.”
Zakaria scoffed. “Please. Exy Jesus wouldn’t be stuck in Milport.”
Genevieve clicked her tongue. “He’s got a mouth on him. Shame he doesn’t have the record to back it up.”
Zakaria bristled. “I do have the record. What I don’t have is a death wish. Your team is—”
“—a disaster?” Genevieve finished, shrugging. “Yeah. I know. That’s why I’m here.” She leaned forward slightly. “We need people who aren’t scared to crawl through the mud and bite ankles if necessary. Thats where you come in Zakaria”
Zakaria stared. “Why is that your sales pitch?”
“Because it works,” she said, deadpan.
Before he could respond with something appropriately snarky, Hernandez stepped between them, already sensing to stop a screaming match from starting
“Muddathir. Listen.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re good. annoying as hell, but good. And you’re wasting it here. She’s offering you a shot. Don’t be an idiot.”
“I’m not being an idiot, I’m being reasonable,” Zakaria snapped. “Her team is one concussion away from a criminal investigation.”
“Great,” Genevieve said. “You’ll fit right in. We already have one guy who lives on cigarettes. All types of debauchery goes on over here”
As if she’d summoned him with those exact words, Zakaria noticed movement behind her. Leaning against the doorway was a tall guy with reddish hair that didn’t match his face at all, like God ran out of pigment halfway through and just shrugged. He flicked ash onto the floor without looking away from Zakaria.
“whats with the dig coach?” Im the only one who offered to come today on your little charity crusade”
“don’t get smart with me kenji, your avoiding something. You practically begged to come here with me. And its not charity crusades its recruitments”
“whatever you say..”
Seriously, What the hell is wrong with this team?
Genevieve ignored that entirely. “Look, kid. You’re not going anywhere in Milport. You know it. I know it. Even he knows it.” She jabbed a thumb at Kenji, who was still smoking in a very clearly established no smoke area.
kenji just shrugged and lit another cigarette. Zakaria wanted to scream.
Hernandez put a hand on Zakaria’s shoulder, the weight annoyingly sincere. “You want out, son. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
Zakaria’s jaw tightened. He hated that the coach was right. He hated that the gym suddenly felt too small. He hated that the idea of staying here forever—graying away in Milport—felt like swallowing gravel. He didn’t want to live and die on the same ten meter plot. He didn’t leave his homeland to wither away in a tiny American town
Genevieve must’ve sensed the shift, because her voice softened just a fraction. “We’re a mess,” she said. “But we’re a mess with potential. And you look like someone who fights to avoid becoming ordinary.”
He stared at the floor. “I’m not a loser.”
“Good,” she said. “Then don’t act like one.”
Behind her, Kenji took another drag, eyes narrowed in something like amusement. Or judgment. Hard to tell.
Zakaria exhaled, long and annoyed.
“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll join the spiders.”
Genevieve smirked like she’d known he’d say that. Like this whole annoying conversation was just a formality.
“Welcome to the worst decision of your life,” she said cheerfully.
Zakaria already regretted everything.