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The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. Another beautiful day ruined by a horrible stickball game.
It was an insignificant detail that it was evening and that every winged creature had fled, terrified, from the deafening noise of the fans.
It was the day of the game against Belmonte.
Not that he particularly cared. A game was a game.
He watched his teammates go crazy like little grasshoppers.
Dan Wilds and Kevin Day were near the coach, busy finalizing strategies.
Andrew snorted. As if they hadn't already talked about it ad nauseam in the past few days.
He glanced lazily at the rest of the team, but he didn't particularly care. He vaguely noticed Renee Walker, busy talking to John. Jack? Jeremy? Not interesting enough to waste precious brain space.
Across the room, Aaron was busy reading texts on his phone. His girlfriend was probably wishing him good luck or something. How awful.
Nick, on the other end, was babbling about something. Maybe about the newly released movie he absolutely had to see, or about his next planned shopping trip.
"Goal: spend so much money that I won't have any for the next four lifetimes."
Andrew was half-listening. Or less. The words washed over him like background noise, indistinguishable from the rest.
It was a strange situation. Andrew wasn't sure how to describe it. Maybe, after three years at PSU, even familiar.
Yet something was missing for the picture to be complete.
His family was there.
People he'd shared space and energy with for years were there.
But something was missing. And he knew exactly what.
If he'd ever met a younger Andrew and told him about that feeling, the boy would have looked at him with his usual blank expression and wouldn't have believed him.
Actually, come to think of it, an older Andrew wouldn't have believed him either.
Sue him. Life wasn't kind to people like him.
He slowly looked up at the coach.
He noticed that Dan had returned to Matt Boyd's arms and was exchanging a few words with Reynolds, while Kevin was walking right toward him, wearing that classic Kevin You'll Play Because Exy Is All That Matters look on his face.
The brunette opened his mouth, but the coach spoke before the boy could get into trouble by saying the wrong thing. I'm aiming for you, coach, but an idiot is still an idiot, you can't save him forever...
"Andrew."
The buzz in the room died down. Everyone was suddenly interested in what the coach had to say. Nosy.
Andrew held the man's gaze. There was no need for words. There never had been. It was just the way it worked between them, and it was one of the good reasons Andrew respected him.
Reasons the older man didn't need to know, anyway.
The coach nodded.
Andrew responded in kind, feeling just a little more relaxed.
That's all. He knew what it meant. Now there was nothing missing.
The others exchanged glances, from one to the other, but before anyone could pry, the coach turned to the team.
"Good, worms. We've talked about strategy long enough, so I hope once someone gets on the field"—his eyes flicked briefly to Jimmy Jack—"doesn't pretend to suddenly forget it."
He paused, letting the silence work for him but not giving him time to respond.
"It's one of the first games of the season. That doesn't mean you can take it easy. In the first half, you study your opponents, their new roster. You study them, but remember, they're here to study you, too. They want to tear you apart and dictate the course of their season."
A hint of a smile, cold.
"Don't let them. Annihilate them."
A chorus of cheers and approval filled the room.
Andrew had already stopped listening. It was the same old pregame speeches he'd heard a million times. He needed to give the coach a voucher for some kind of motivational seminar.
With a quick glance, he spotted his cell phone, resting on the armrest of the couch.
The screen lit up.
That, suddenly, was much more interesting. He didn't need to guess who it was.
Everything was going well.
He saw the others begin to move and followed their example. He grabbed his helmet, his enormous goalie stick, and headed for the field, oblivious to the roar of cheers that erupted as soon as the fans noticed the Foxes' entrance.
The coach, without further ado, sent them off to do a few laps around the field and warm-up exercises. They were led by Wilds. He was probably talking. Or doing something that fit the concept of leadership.
It wasn't his business. Some would say it was. Andrew has never been known for his ability to listen to others.
His gaze caught the coach and Abby, who were talking to someone in the stands, behind the Fox benches.
He wasn't very tall.
Not that Andrew could afford to judge, but he was still short. Reddish-brown hair, impossibly blue eyes, and that expression that said: I've already convinced you the sky is green but you don't know it yet.
Not even a second after Andrew looked up, those same eyes met his and melted into something warmer.
Disgusting.
Absolutely. Irreparably. Disgusting.
No one should look at him like that.
Well, Bee wouldn't have agreed. But Bee was an annoying bee who buzzed, buzzed, buzzed.
And, even more irritating, she'd never lied to him before. That, however, doesn't mean he was right. Lying and being wrong are two different things.
He turned to his teammates, not before noticing something small clinging to Neil's pants out of the corner of his eye. Then his eyes met those of his double.
Aaron raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. He followed the direction of Andrew's gaze and, with an elbow, caught Nicky's attention.
"Damn, Aaron, you hurt me."
His cousin began rubbing his side as if the wound had opened a crater. But when he noticed where Aaron was pointing, with a slight nod, he immediately forgot about the pain and began bouncing on tiptoe.
Mental reminder: don't give hyperactive kids too much sugar before a game.
"Oh my God! They did it! Andrew! Aaron! They're here! Why didn't he say anything? Did he say something to you? Was that little bastard trying to surprise you?" He's more of a fox than a fox sometimes, and—” Nicky's German was loud and excited.
Andrew cut himself off from the rant and shot his twin a murderous look. Aaron, in response, shrugged and gave the faintest hint of a smile.
That little bastard was going to pay for this.
He was about to somehow silence Nicky when the brunette let out a scream so high-pitched that, for a moment, Andrew thought the entire stadium had gone silent.
“She's here!” he repeated.
The team turned to look at them, but Nicky was already advancing toward the home bench, completely elated.
Andrew grabbed the number eight on his shirt and stopped him dead in his tracks.
“What the hell are you guys up to? We have a game, in case you forgot.”
“How could we forget, Kevin? You're a living reminder.”
Andrew found himself, to his horror, in agreement with his doppelgänger.
Bee would have called it progress.
As we'd already established, Bee wasn't always right.
Kevin was practically fuming when the coach called them back.
No sign of Neil.
The fugitive had probably decided to organize some sort of psychological treasure hunt. One might think he'd simply approached the coach for a chat and that his place was elsewhere, but Andrew knew the roadrunner better than that.
He wanted a place less exposed to the team and unwanted attention.
But he also wanted Andrew to find him.
Because Andrew would always find him.
His eyes would fall on those impossible colors like iron drawn to a magnet.
It didn't take him long to spot the reddish hair a few rows away.
The rest of the team was definitely talking. Kevin was complaining about something. Dan, like a good captain, was trying to silence him and boost morale.
Andrew wasn't listening.
He was too focused on the hint of a smile Neil was giving him. He had been found, and he knew it. He'd never doubted it.
Then his gaze slid lower.
To the little girl sitting on Neil's lap.
Soft brown curls, less intense than the other boy's. Big hazel eyes identical to his own, wide open to the world. Noise-canceling headphones muffled the chaos of the stadium. He wore a small white jersey with orange details.
Even from that distance, Andrew knew exactly what number he wore.
Something in his chest melted.
He hated him.
"He really brought her here? Is he a complete idiot?"
Aaron shot him a sidelong glance.
"Don't answer that. Yes, he is an idiot. Even with headphones, the stadium is no place for a child that small."
"He knows. He said they'll only stay for the start. Then Coach will have them go to the concourse to watch the game on the screen. They'll leave before halftime, and when the Foxes get back on the field, he'll be there again."
Aaron nodded, still skeptical.
Nicky returned to them beaming, as if he were about to enter the field himself.
"I can't wait to cuddle Aurora. Have you seen her? She's even prettier."
"Nicky, we saw her a few hours ago. It's not biologically possible that she's gotten prettier in such a short time."
"Shut up, Aaron. You don't understand anything."
His brother's face gained a few more degrees of annoyance.
Today was supposed to be a really lucky day for Andrew. If only it weren't for the damn stickball.
"Andrew. Aaron. Nicky. Can you concentrate?" Dan's voice was authoritative and visibly annoyed. "We're about to play a game."
Oh, poor captain.
Andrew didn't answer. He stared at her. Aaron did the same.
"Come on, Dan, relax. "It's just a game," Nicky tried.
Dan's expression darkened even more.
"Sometimes I wonder why you're on the team if you don't care."
"Because they're talented. Well. At least Andrew," Kevin interjected. Queen of Exy. One-track mind. Too many balls must have hit him in the head as a kid.
Aaron and Nicky didn't answer. Both cared just enough about Exy to keep their scholarships. Day found this behavior intolerable.
"So the price of Andrew's talent is putting up with these freaks?"
"Allison, that's not nice."
"Renee, my angel, they're not nice."
Allison Reynolds looked at them as if, from the height of her arrogant blondeness, she could judge them. Neil would have said he was blond and arrogant too. The difference was that Andrew didn't spend his days complaining about the world as if it were someone else's fault.
Renee gave Andrew a sympathetic look and returned her attention to the game.
"All right, assholes," the coach began. "I don't need to tell you to avoid red cards, otherwise—"
"Marathon, coach?" Matt asked, amused.
The glare he received was enough.
"I'm thinking of signing you all up for some charity work."
A collective shiver ran through them. The last one had lasted two full days of beach and field cleanups. Andrew was certain Renee had played a role, even if he couldn't prove it.
He still wondered what the good Christian girl had sacrificed to her God to keep the Foxes from killing each other and hiding the bodies in the garbage.
"Come on, coach. You can't be that cruel. Twice," a freshman attempted.
"Watch me do it," the coach pointed to his serious face.
The opening buzzer broke the air.
Andrew was usually left on the bench during the first half, allowing Renee and the freshman to alternate. The strategy was for him to come on in the second half, to plug any gaps left by the other two.
As the announcer announced the names, the coach approached him.
"Are you going to play?"
Andrew responded with an apathetic look. All he had to do was move him to a specific spot in the stands.
"Yes," the coach said quietly. "Give her something to watch tonight."
When the announcer called his name, Andrew clicked his tongue, finished putting on his gloves, and stepped onto the court.
He ignored the faces and grumbles of his teammates. They didn't need to know about the substitution. Only Renee, who was supposed to be on the bench.
Dan looked at the coach doubtfully.
Kevin was already about to launch another tirade.
Andrew wasn't.
Andrew was ready.
Aaron, on the court with him, simply stared at him. Then he snorted, amused, and returned to his position.
"Of course."
Kevin started to move toward him, but immediately noticed he was being ignored. Dan and Matt were quicker to stop him. He would have continued fuming and complaining at the first opportunity, but the game was about to start, and so, like a good exy addict, he returned to his seat. Disgruntled but in position.
The game began.
Boring like all the others.
Fast like all the others.
Violent like all the others.
Within the first ten minutes, Janie Small and a Terrapins backliner were down and arguing. The girl had character, he gave her that much.
But Andrew wasn't interested.
He averted his attention. A quick glance at the stands. Then back at the ball advancing toward the goal.
He hadn't even noticed when the fight was over and play resumed, but his reflexes were those of a predator: always alert, always ready.
He swung his bat.
He hit the ball hard.
If anyone had suggested he was doing it to show off in front of Neil and Aurora, Andrew would have denied it until his death.
Then came another sound.
The buzzer.
Had someone caught his shot and scored so quickly?
The stadium fell into an eerie silence. An entire stadium of Exy silent. Had someone accidentally pressed the wrong button on the remote?
Andrew looked up at the replay.
No one had intercepted his shot.
Andrew had scored all by himself.
Surgical precision. Brutal power. No one was prepared for a shot like that. Not even the Terrapins goalie, who wasn't bad, but couldn't have predicted it. No one could have.
The silence exploded in a roar that shook the concrete. The stadium went crazy. The Foxes went crazy.
In that chaos, Andrew looked for just one person.
He didn't want to. He already knew what a disgusting expression he'd find. But iron and magnet.
When he found those blue eyes, it was exactly as he'd expected. Disbelief gave way to a bright, uncontrollable joy. Neil was still cheering, and on his knees the little human was clapping her hands, mouthing enthusiastic noises.
Something heated up.
Andrew ignored the commentators and his teammates. They weren't important. They weren't interesting.
When the game resumed and he looked back at the stands, Neil was gone. The rabbit had gone back into its hole.
Andrew was certain that, as soon as possible, he wouldn't leave him alone. Maybe he could escape to Mexico.
The first half ended and they returned to the locker room.
"What was that?"
Kevin Day's voice was an irritating mix of anger and respect. Only he could blend two such disparate aspects.
Andrew ignored him. Kevin blocked his path.
"Answer me."
"Get out of my way, Day, unless you want to finish the game doubled over."
Kevin moved aside. He knew a threat from Andrew was a promise.
"You played. The first half."
"More importantly: you played," the captain added, incredulous.
"He's a goalkeeper. What's he supposed to do?" Aaron commented, giving him a light shoulder before sitting down.
Andrew sat down on the couch. Neil's coffee smell and the sweet chocolate smell of Aurora's body wash were still there. They had been in that locker room moments before.
"That was incredible!" said the rookie goalkeeper, beaming. Andrew didn't pay much attention to him, but the boy didn't seem to notice. He treated him like the god of goalkeeping. He sought his advice, followed him to practice. He had Nicky's energy, but was harmless enough and knew how to keep his distance.
Andrew ignored them all and headed for the couch, grabbing a bottle of water.
He'd scored. So what? He wasn't the first goalkeeper to do it. Maybe it just shocked them that it was him.
He decided he'd make up for it by sleeping in goal during the next few practices. Maybe even letting a few balls in during the next game. They needed to remember who he was and that he didn't care about exy.
Neil would call him the king of spite.
Andrew would kiss that mischievous mouth.
A noise in the hallway caught his attention.
A soft knock. The coach opened the door. No one was up to his eyes.
Then a hurricane of brown curls entered the room.
Aurora spotted the couch and ran. She paused for a moment before throwing herself into Andrew's arms. He instinctively held her.
Kevin stiffened.
The room erupted.
"What's a baby doing here?"
"How did she get past security?"
"Get her off the monster before he stabs her."
Everyone rushed to free the endangered little girl from the dangerous monster. For a brief moment, Andrew felt dirty.
He felt something crawling under his skin. He was hugging Aurora. Like he did every day. And yet, for a moment, he truly felt like a monster. He felt as if the little body in his arms was foreign.
Aaron and Nicky were already moving to block their teammates when Andrew recovered.
He looked into those familiar hazel eyes. It was Aurora. Everything was fine. She was happy. She wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't hurt by him. If she'd wanted to get away, he would have let her go, he wouldn't have held her back.
Focused on his daughter, he only heard snippets of what the others were saying.
Aaron threatening them to mind their own business. Nicky was nervous about the insinuations they were making. Everyone else was yelling something.
He glanced at the coach. He watched him pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes, tired of that bunch of idiots. Your choices, coach, take responsibility.
"Dada."
His world was reduced to that voice again. Completely focused and absorbed in it.
The others were still too busy yelling at each other to pay attention. Only Kevin was still stiff at his side, staring at the little girl as if she were an alien.
The striker was the only one on the team, except for his family, who knew of Aurora and Neil's existence. Andrew had worked hard to ensure they didn't interact more than necessary. When they went to the house in Columbia, they saw each other very briefly, sometimes almost not at all. Neil didn't like Kevin, for obvious reasons. Or rather, it wasn't that he didn't like Kevin, but he was aware of the risk the other was dragging behind him like a cloak. So he tried to cross paths with him as little as possible.
Precisely why having Aurora at the stadium: alive, vibrant, hugging Andrew and calling him affectionately; had short-circuited him.
KevinDay.exy stopped working.
Neil appeared in the open doorway, panting. He'd been running.
Andrew was brief and sharp.
"She's definitely your daughter."
He spoke louder to drown out everyone else. Absolute silence. The Foxes fell silent. He could bet that in all these years he'd never heard them remain silent for so long.
"A runaway."
Neil smiled, tired but relaxed.
"She has your stamina. Without a doubt."
Hearing her father's voice, Aurora clung even tighter to Andrew. She didn't want to let him go. They hadn't seen each other since the night before.
"Hey, Neil!" Nicky greeted. He was as enthusiastic as ever, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone. Everyone knew Andrew and Neil didn't share their personal affairs. Especially not Aurora.
Not because they were ashamed, nor because it was a secret. They simply liked things to stay that way. Small. Protected. Theirs.
"Why the hell are you here?"
Hearing Aaron hold back was always a spectacle for Andrew. He saw the effort behind every word, the concentration crease on his forehead. The one that appeared when he analyzed every word to make sure he wasn't saying anything wrong, for his granddaughter's sake.
"We were going to the gas station to get something to eat," Neil explained. "But Aurora decided to turn back because she wanted to see you."
Yes. She was definitely their daughter. Neil would say stubborn. Aaron would say mischievous. Nicky would call her a troublemaker. Bee, a happy little girl who expresses herself freely.
"Sorry, Coach," Neil added. "We didn't mean to disturb you. We'll leave right away." He seemed uncertain, unsure of the older man's reaction.
Wymack looked tired but calm. More like a father watching his children get into trouble, but knowing deep down that it doesn't matter. That life's problems are entirely different.
This was the man who gave new opportunities to kids the world wanted forgotten. The same man who knew how much parents could destroy a child's innocence. And now he saw one of his foxes lovingly holding his little girl, and that same little girl feeling neither fear nor uncertainty in a room full of strangers. And why should she? If anyone tried to harm her, she would find her entire family standing before her, ready to raze everything to the ground.
“Don’t worry, kid. This bunch of idiots would have been distracted anyway.”
Wymack had expected this to happen. The tickets were a gift, not a requirement. How they handled it with the team had always been their choice.
“Um… excuse me—” Boyd tried, but was interrupted.
“Why the fuck is there a kid here?” Reynolds snapped.
“How the fuck did you get in?” added Nasir, a freshman.
Andrew shot her a murderous look, but they were too focused on the new arrivals to notice him.
Aaron and Neil’s relationship was complicated. They didn’t like each other, but they didn’t hate each other. They were like two brothers ready to insult each other, but equally ready to tear to pieces anyone else who tried. So it wasn’t surprising that he was the first to speak.
“Mind your own business.”
Andrew sighed. Goodbye manners in front of Aurora.
He felt the little girl’s head move. Until then, she seemed oblivious to the chaos she'd caused. Aurora looked at the person who had insulted her father and, in the sweetest, most serious voice in the world, said,
"Don't talk badly about my dad!"
Then she turned to Aaron.
"Uncle Aaron, you said the bad words."
She reached out a hand.
Nicky snorted, amused. Aaron sighed, defeated. He went to his locker and pulled out a five-dollar bill.
"You little dictator."
Aurora took the money and looked triumphantly at Andrew.
She didn't need the money. Andrew, Neil, and Nicky would buy her the world if she'd just asked.
Aaron would have done the same, but he'd appointed himself the responsible uncle. The swear jar had been his idea, and he was incredibly proud of it. Too bad he was the one who filled it most often. Much to everyone else's delight.
"So... who are you?" Wilds attempted conciliatoryly. “The kids can’t be here. And technically, neither can anyone who isn’t on the staff and the team.”
Wymack intervened. “Neil and Aurora have permission. Who they are is none of your business. End of break. Get off your sweaty asses and get back on the field.”
“Aurora, let’s go.” Neil took a step forward. “Dada has to get back on the field.”
She clung even tighter to Andrew. And Andrew, by reflex, did the same.
“I don’t want to. I want to be with Dada.”
She began to cry.
Andrew stiffened. Hearing her cry was as unsettling as ever.
He had seen many children cry while in foster care. They cried for all sorts of reasons, but sooner or later, they all came to the same conclusion: crying wouldn’t do any good. No one would console them or help them.
The more they cried, the more they would be hurt. Better to remain silent. Better to hide the pain. Children should be seen, not heard. Andrew himself had stopped early. He had learned to take that pain and lock it away in places so deep it would never see the light again.
Neil had learned the same lesson, in different ways.
First at home with his father, where crying would fuel the sadistic joy of adults. Then with his mother, who saw crying as useless and annoying.
When he and the redhead found out about Aurora, it was chaos. And when they had that screaming bundle in their hands, they were lost. Not even Nicky and Aaron had been much help.
They had all had to learn everything. Learning that babies cry because they have needs, that it's okay. She's a child, and it's her way of expressing herself to the world, which isn't built for her.
It wasn't always easy.
Sometimes Neil would leave the child with Andrew and go for hours on end for a run. Other times, Andrew would take the car and do the same.
It happened less and less frequently, but
both had had to undergo sessions with professionals. Andrew had Bee. Neil had to wrestle with his skepticism about psychoanalysis. Dr. Bennet had worked miracles.
Andrew would bring him a bottle of good whiskey for Christmas.
Some days were easier than others. This sort of thing doesn't follow a linear path. Andrew knew that well.
Seeing their little girl express her emotions so freely was liberating but still alienating.
"Let's do this, tiger." Andrew stood up, holding her tightly, and approached Neil. "If you go with Daddy now, tomorrow Nicky will make you pancakes and Aaron will watch the whole Aladdin with you."
"Again?" Aaron muttered, but without protest. The instigator inside Andrew was pleased.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Promise, Dada?"
Andrew stroked her hair as he handed her over to Neil.
"I promise."
Aurora still had tear marks on her cheeks, but thankfully the crying had stopped and she leaned gently against her father's chest.
"Dada."
"Mh?"
"That goal was beautiful." And there was that brilliant smile he loved so much.
Andrew grunted.
"You've turned her into an Exy addict."
And then there was that laugh. Neil's. The only thing Andrew loved as much as his daughter's smile.
"Are we really going to pretend nothing happened? As if everything was normal? Yeah, I thought so," someone spoke.
The buzzer sounded and they all returned to the field. The game resumed.
Andrew stayed on the bench in the second half and let Renee and the freshman do all the dirty work.
He just wanted to go home. With his brother, his cousin, Neil, and Aurora.
Sometimes he thought it all was unreal. A dissociated space, created for survival. A hallucination.
He thought he was still under unwanted touch, hungry mouths ready to devour him piece by piece.
An illusion born because reality was too horrible to bear.
Everything there, however, was bright and warm. Not flawless, but good enough to want to see where it would lead, day after day.
At home, Nicky would burn something. Aaron would recite biology in the throes of pre-exam anxiety. Aurora would run to him, showing him a new drawing. Neil would kiss him with the taste of home.
He didn't care about the game. What the team had to say.
He didn't even want to waste energy figuring out if they'd won or lost.
He showered in less than 10 minutes and decided to leave the vultures to Nicky and Aaron. He exchanged only a quick nod with Renee, who in turn motioned for him to hurry up.
He left quickly. The cold air bit his still warm and damp skin. He saw his old Lexus next to the newer Maserati.
Aurora was climbing off the hood and running toward him at full speed. Neil was following her, just a few steps behind.
"You were fantastic."
Those words left something inside him. Like an echo.
Something he couldn't understand and didn't want to.
He pushed the feeling away as he picked up his daughter, then kissed Neil.
"Drug addict."
Like a piece of iron that will always be attracted to a magnet.