Chapter Text
The devil is a liar
: A general expression of distrust, particularly implying that another person is attempting to deceive the speaker, or that a situation is not, or can not be, as it appears.
Palmetto State University wasn’t what Neil imagined it would be.
He hadn’t been foolish enough to think that it would be even so much as comparable to campuses of extraordinary beauty, such as Stanford University or University of Notre Dame, but even with his expectations being low, PSU still managed to disappoint him.
Neil resisted clicking his tongue in distaste. He reminded himself that he had other college choices, but it was his decision to pick this one and thus there was no point in indulging in ‘what ifs’ now.
He dialed the memorized number on his phone and brought it to his ear, waiting for the other person to answer.
Soon enough he heard a grumpy voice with a slight rasp to it. “Wymack.”
“Hello, Mr. Wymack,” Neil started, keeping his voice on a pleasant side. “I would like to join your exy team.”
He didn’t offer anything else for now, deciding to just wait the man out.
“Sorry, kid, not interested. This year’s recruitment is done.”
Neil couldn’t say that he was particularly surprised. It was May already, after all. But, he was sure he could make it into the team. He just needed to have the man in front of him for five minutes to convince him.
“I know, but I–I just want you to hear me out, okay? I’m standing in front of the entrance to the stadium, are you in there?”
If that wouldn’t work then Neil would have to change the strategy and do something else. From what he read online, Wymack seemed to have a bleeding heart for all sorts of misfits, so maybe Neil would make a better case if he broke into the stadium? Or his house maybe? He’d rather avoid it, hence why he was bothering with calling in the first place.
After all, for everyone concerned, Neil was a nice boy who followed the law to the T.
Finally, Wymack sighed and made a decision. “Fine. Wait for me, I’ll come get you.”
The call disconnected and Neil allowed a small pleased smile to blossom on his face. Part one done, now onto two and three.
He didn’t have to just stand by himself long. Only a few minutes passed before the doors opened and Wymack came into the view. Neil had seen his pictures when he did his research on the Foxes and the man looked just like Neil expected him to be. Wymack was a big man. Tall and built with enough muscles that Neil suspected he’d go down with one strong, well-aimed blow from the man. That was, if he would be able to surprise Neil, which just won’t ever happen.
Neil looked him up and down quickly and made a note of his appearance. First impressions were important.
A wife beater was certainly a choice that would send Neil’s parents to an early grave, but it showed that Wymack valued comfort first without much care for fashion. His jeans were slightly washed out, but in good condition nonetheless. Next, sneakers – good brand, but dirty. Untidiness, then, probably. Wymack’s stance matched his clothing. He was casual, relaxed. His sleeves of tribal flame tattoos were the most interesting thing about him for now.
Neil wasn’t a tattoo fan himself, but tattoos could tell a lot about a person. Some people were impulsive with them and it was usually easy to spot when they regretted one. Some people didn’t think much about the meaning of their tattoos and had chosen them because they thought they looked pretty. Neil was always the most interested in people who had little ink on them and when it was well thought-through, with a certain message.
Sleeves of tribal flames might have been chosen because they looked pretty for some people. But they could also symbolize certain things, like passion or transformation. Power too, for both creation and destruction. Phoenixes were an interesting take as well. Rebirth, rising from the ashes.
Neil was curious about the tattoos in front of him. How old was Wymack when he got them? Was he young or are they more recent? What were the circumstances in his life? Were they driven by some events in his past? What was the meaning behind them? Neil doubted they were strictly for aesthetics since Wymack seemed not to care much for taste and his appearance. Then, what do they mean? Is it rebirth? Power? Fire as a light in the darkness?
Interesting.
But now it wasn’t the time to dwell on it.
“Hello, Mr. Wymack,” he said again, this time in person.
The man looked at him like he had expected to see someone else and Neil didn’t blame him. He didn’t look like the average Fox and he was not an average Fox, but Neil would convince Wymack that he could fit into his team nonetheless.
“Let’s go to my office,” Wymack said eventually before turning around and starting to walk.
Neil followed silently, taking a look around the absolutely obnoxious white and orange design of the stadium. It will take a while to get used to the bright orange that can be probably seen from space, but for now he just focused on memorizing the route.
Neil was immediately taken aback once they walked into Wymack’s office. Curiously, there wasn’t really much in there, but what was there was an absolute mess. Papers placed randomly all over the desk without any order whatsoever, a thin layer of dust on the shelves on a half-filled bookshelf and Neil could also spot two circles on the desk after mugs.
Neither Nathan nor Mary would ever allow such a mess anywhere near them. For them, a clean space was the only acceptable space. It was certainly a part of a personal preference, but Neil knew it also carried a symbolic meaning. His father liked perfection and prided himself in being picture-perfect. Neil’s mother had a taste for perfection, too, but hers was a different kind. She had designed every single room in their house to be perfect. With its beauty and with its message. High class, filled with carefully chosen art, a simple show of wealth and taste.
Untainted.
Not betraying their… unsavory activities in any way.
“What’s your name, kid?”
Neil blinked once. Right, he definitely should have started with that. For all he was raised to present himself as a nice boy with impeccable manners, he could admit to himself that out of all his lessons, this one never really stuck as much as the other ones.
“Nathaniel Wesninski,” he introduced himself, keeping his tone neutral. “Call me Neil,” he added, feeling the same rush of pleasure as every time he said his chosen name out loud. It was a beautiful reminder of the person he became and of the fact that he wasn’t Nathan’s shadow anymore. He gutted that part of his name just as he gutted the little boy he’d been years ago.
If he was with the company of his mother’s social circle, he’d be expected to say something along the lines of ‘pleasure to meet you’, but looking at Wymack he was certain that the pleasantries were unnecessary, maybe even unwelcomed. “I’m a backliner.”
“I have three backliners, I don’t need another one, kid,” Wymack said, looking at him a bit like he already decided he didn’t want Neil. “No offense, but I don’t think you’d fit well with my Foxes.”
Neil knew this, had expected this.
Just as he had taken first impression of Wymack, Wymack had done the same of him.
Neil knew what he looked like for other people at the first glance. Mary had been the one to craft Neil’s appearance to her liking and Neil understood her intent and what he was meant to portray.
Neil has been surrounded by Baltimore’s most prominent social circles for the past ten years. He was crafted to seamlessly fit into such society. He battled his clumsiness until his movements became graceful, he worked on his facial expressions until he could hide his discomfort or his disgust, his mannerisms were almost a copy of his mother’s, who was a picture of natural class and elegance. His clothes also spoke by themselves. He didn’t leave the house in anything other than good-quality slacks unless he was working out; his button-ups, sweaters or shirts were never wrinkled or worn out, a bit of cologne was a necessity and his shoes were always as clean as new.
Neil’s whole being was carefully designed by his mother after her image and her social mask; it was something that Neil saw great value in and didn’t intend to change.
He knew that he could have come to Wymack dressed down or with other mannerisms – maybe the ones of a kicked puppy, maybe the ones of an angsty teen – but he had decided against it. It wouldn’t do if he’d move back to his usual social persona after signing the contract – the change could appear suspicious.
Neil didn’t need to change himself to win Wymack over. All he needed was a mix of pretty lies and bended truths. He had manipulated much harder targets before, this will be a piece of cake.
“So taking strays from broken homes isn’t a publicity stunt?” Neil asked, arching an eyebrow.
Wymack shot him a dark look at that. “Of course not. I take my Foxes seriously, every one of them. None of them had it easy but all of them deserve a second chance. Or a third, or a forth one, it doesn’t matter. At least one more than what anyone else wanted to give them.”
Neil had suspected that the Foxes recruiting standards weren’t a publicity stunt, but he liked that he had confirmation. Wymack sounded sincere and proud of his mission the same way as when he had talked about his team in the interviews. Neil was good at reading people and he chose to trust his early judgment for now.
Did it count as prejudice, Neil wondered. Maybe there were regular students at PSU who wanted to play exy but they couldn’t because of Wymack’s standards. Was it fair, then? It wasn’t, simple as that, as nothing in life truly ever was. And was it a stupid tactic? The Foxes would have more players on the roster if Wymack also recruited the people outside broken homes. The team would win more games, be better in general, and the players would probably have better chances of getting into professional teams.
It was noble, that’s for sure, but stupid in Neil’s opinion.
He gave himself one last chance to change the scenario he had prepared to convince the coach, but he thought what he had prepared was good enough.
“I have a good life now,” he started. “I don’t have substance abuse problems, I don’t live in poverty, I got into college and my family’s good.” ‘Good’, what a fucking choice of a word. His father was a sadist, his mother an apathetic manipulator, but sure, let’s call them good. “But–” He paused for a moment and looked Wymack in the eye, trying to appear as if he was deciding if he could trust the man. “I want to tell you something. But I don’t want it to leave this room. I don’t like to talk about it, I don’t like to think about it, I just–I just don’t,” he finished and then swallowed heavily, knowing that most people would clock it as a nervous reaction.
It worked like a charm. So Wymack may actually be a bleeding heart.
That was as boring as it was unusual.
The man now paid full attention to Neil and visibly tried to appear trustworthy. It was a sincere action albeit a little manipulative, but then again – what wasn’t manipulative if one was to think about it? Wymack probably wasn’t even fully aware of it.
“Nothing you’ll say will leave this room. You can say whatever you want, I won’t tell anyone and I won’t judge you,” Wymack said and Neil wondered how the man would react if he heard about Neil’s actual life. He’d definitely judge him and he’d probably call the authorities as soon as Neil left the room.
Funny, how people thought they knew what to expect. Certainty was foolish most of the time.
Neil put on a contemplative look for a while before taking a deep breath and starting, “It’s not common knowledge, but I was actually kidnapped when I was six. I don’t…” He cleared his throat. “My parents are rich, you know? I was kidnapped for ransom. My mom didn’t want to notify the police, just wanted to play by the kidnappers' rules. And she did. It took some time, and a lot of money, I’d guess, but in the end I went back home. I try not to think about it…” He trailed off for a moment before looking at the wall. “But I have scars that keep reminding me.” He let this information seep in for a hot moment before adding one last piece to his performance. “So yes, I have a good life and I work to have a good life, but it wasn’t always like that. Honestly? I came to you because I love exy, and I’d really like to play with Kevin Day, but if you don’t want me on the team that’s fine. I’ll understand.”
The story Neil just sold was ninety five percent bullshit. The only truthful life was the fact that his life was good now, but it hadn’t been anything other than horrendous when he was younger.
Everything good only happened because of his mother.
Silence stretched between Neil and Wymack and it started getting awkward, but Neil wouldn’t break it first. And so he waited.
“You’re all good now? What I’m hearing is your family’s good. They won’t be a problem?” Wymack asked.
Neil’s family tended to be a problem even on a good fucking day, but not in a way Wymack could imagine.
“We’re good,” he replied semi-truthfully. “My parents aren’t fans of exy, but they won’t really mind as long as my degree doesn’t suffer because of it.”
Another truth. Neil was used to lying and a phenomenal liar, but nowadays he rarely had to lie about mundane things such as school life.
“I have to see you play, kid,” Wymack announced, raising an eyebrow. “This talk was nice and all, but I hope you’re not wasting our time if you’re shit on the court.”
Neil blinked at the abrupt change of topic. It started a small laugh out of him and he gave Wymack a polite smile with just a touch of teeth.
“You won’t be disappointed,” he assured. “Where are the locker rooms?”
Part two finished with success, now onto part three. That was the easy one.
And if Wymack thought that a 5’3” backliner wasn’t much, then Neil would happily prove him wrong.
When Wymack started to look for some spare gear for Neil, Neil almost laughed to his face. He came prepared. He knew he was small for a man, so he had assumed there probably wouldn’t be spear gear laying around that would fit him.
So he brought his own gear from his high school team. As he walked into the stadium, he felt slightly out of place dressed in deep blue and silver, but at least everything fitted him. The familiar fabric made him feel more settled within moments and he couldn’t wait to practice.
Wymack told him that he called a few of his players that were staying in Palmetto for the summer and that Neil could warm up in the meantime. Neil ran for some time then did some exercises to warm up his joints, mainly ankles, knees, hips and wrists. When his future teammates still haven’t arrived after all that, he took a few balls and started doing some basic drills.
Pounding on the plexiglass caught his attention. He stopped and turned around. Wymack gestured for him to come and Neil immediately spotted the boys standing next to him.
First impressions were important and so he jogged to them with a neutral expression on his face.
The first thing he noted was that only three of four boys were changed out. Then he saw the famous number two tattoo and he scolded himself internally that he paid attention to something so useless instead of other things. Focus, he told himself.
Minyard twins were standing on either side of Day, easily distinguishable with one glance. Andrew was the one dressed in all black instead of his gear, but the expression of his face was much more interesting. His grin was remarkable. Genuinely remarkable with the way it was anything but genuine. It was so fake that it practically hurt to see and Neil wondered if Andrew’s cheeks hurt from smiling this wide and fake. It was like a zirconia pretending to be a diamond, but there was an unmistakable touch of malice in this caricature of a smile.
Interesting. Especially with how said smile entirely contradicted the utter lifelessness of Minyard’s eyes. They looked empty. Dead. Neil would know, he has seen corpses with the same look.
Paradoxical.
Neil quickly looked away from him before it could have been taken as staring and glanced at the other Minyard instead, Aaron, with a ‘5’ on his jersey. That one didn’t look like he was happy to see Neil either, though mostly he just seemed bored with the situation and slightly irritated. Irritated at Neil’s presence or at something else was yet to be determined. Still, his bored look possessed visibly more life than his brother’s.
The Minyard twins looked a little funny with their five feet height next to Day who towered over them, but who was Neil to judge? He was just about three inches taller than them.
Day looked excited but also skeptical. The boy was obsessed with exy to the degree that he started learning how to play with his non-dominant hand after destroying his left hand in a ski accident. It had to take a certain level of dedication and Neil had to admit that he was curious about who Day was outside of what he showed to the press. There will be time for that.
And the last boy was–
“Hi! I’m Nicky, Andrew and Aaron’s cousin, backliner extraordinaire! I’ve heard that you’re a backliner too? You’re a little short for that, but Aaron’s short too and he’s great, so I’m not judging,” Nicky said with a laugh at the end and extended a hand for Neil to shake. “What are you wearing, by the way?”
Neil shook the offered hand and gave the boy a smile seeing as he looked genuinely happy to meet Neil. Neil could judge him later and decide what he wanted to do with the boy, but for now he settled on making a nice impression. Nicky’s palm was a bit sweaty, but the handshake was easy, relaxed, and Neil counted it as a plus.
“Neil Wesninski,” he said simply. “It’s my gear from my high school team,” he added. He nodded at each twin and then looked at the forth boy.
“And you are?”
For a moment it was almost like they were all suspended in time. Everyone bar Andrew looked at him like he’s grown a second head and Neil thought it was hilarious.
“What?” Day asked flatly, but with audible disbelief.
Oh, Neil had thought it would be boring. It already wasn’t.
“You haven’t introduced yourself, that’s rude,” he replied simply, but with a touch of disapproval. Technically, the twins also didn’t make an introduction, but Nicky kind of did it for them. Neil could let it fly. But messing with a so-called ‘celebrity’ was fun. He clicked his tongue. “You shouldn’t just assume that people know who you are, that’s impolite.”
“Christ,” Wymack muttered, dragging a hand through his face, clearly exasperated, while Andrew presented them with yet another caricature, this time one of laughter.
“I’m Kevin Day,” the walking-second-place-sign finally said with so much haughtiness that the last time Neil heard a similar arrogance and sense of superiority was when he had been introduced to the son of the mayor of Baltimore in school. It was amusing. “I don’t have time for some childish bullshit. The drills you did were easy, let’s play a scrimmage.”
Straight to business then. Neil didn’t mind, he had a plane to catch in six hours. The four of them walked into the court, leaving Wymack and Andrew behind them, but Neil could feel the latter’s eyes on him. Dead, but piercing at the same time. Paradoxical yet again.
A scrimmage without a goalkeeper was… certainly an idea, but of course, doable. The problem lay in having one striker and three backliners. Kevin decided that they’d start with Neil and Aaron on defense, while he and Nicky posed as offense.
Neil felt the excitement as soon as the ball was in the air. While he knew that he knew there was no future in exy for him, he loved the game. Neil had a penchant for violence–
One can wonder – is it because of genetics since his biological father was a brutal serial killer, a sadist, and his mother came from crime and was a killer as well, or is it from his upbringing that he developed a taste for blood?
–and exy offered violence in spades. It was certainly a good stress-reliever. Teamwork, Neil could do without, but things we want were rarely perfect.
And, well, Neil was good at exy. More than good. And Neil, like most people, enjoyed doing things he was good at. He was certain that he could get into a team much better than the Foxes if he wanted, but he chose PSU because it was close enough to Baltimore and it had Neil’s favorite player.
Nail wasn’t doing great at the beginning, which was to be expected since he wasn’t familiar with Day’s style of playing and his level. He got a feel on Nicky quite fast and it was obvious that he was certainly not a striker, so stopping him was easy. Kevin was a challenge, but Neil felt a giant rush of satisfaction the first time he bodychecked him so hard that Kevin went right to the ground.
After a while, Nicky and Aaron switched and it was also easy to see that Aaron was better than Nicky in both positions. But again, it was clear that Aaron also didn’t have experience as a striker, so he wasn’t not much of a challenge, but his checks were good.
Neil thought he did a good enough job, but just to be sure that he’d convince them to let him on the team, he decided to surprise them a little.
It was easy with only the four of them to run through the court, rebounding the ball off the wall and off the floor until he was close enough to the goal to shoot. The goal lit red and Neil turned around with a grin, satisfied.
Kevin jogged up to him and immediately said, “It’s not part of a scrimmage.”
Neil raised an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t it? There wasn’t a rule against it. All I see is that your goal was empty and that you were supposed to take the ball from me. It’s not twenty years ago, some backliners now score from time to time.”
Certainly rarer than even dealers did, but it was still a tactic that was known and used. It was a good element of surprise and a momentary strengthening of the offense line, but it was not effective when the other team expected that to happen, so it was seldom used. Neil only did it because the other side of the court was void of any players and to gain some points from the coach for quick thinking and creativity.
“You wouldn’t score if backliners were there,” Kevin declared with a scorn in his tone. His racket was pointed in Neil’s direction as if to enhance the message.
“Wouldn’t I?” Neil replied, a bit of a mockery in his tone. To be fair, he probably wouldn’t, and from the other boy’s doubtful look, he knew it as well, but that wasn’t the point. He shrugged. “I guess we won’t know.”
For some reason Kevin’s eyes seemed to light up at that and he commanded, “Nicky, Aaron, off the court. We’ll go one-on-one now.”
Oh, now that would be a real challenge.
And so they went. And Neil had to say, it was fun. He never played against a player as good as Day or even close to his level and it was just as challenging as it was refreshing. He thought it was one of the most fun times he ever had on an exy court and he just knew that he would never regret his decision to continue to play exy in college. Neil let himself get lost in the sounds of shoes hitting the floor and rackets making contact with the ball, slipping into a complete focus on the game; the challenge in front of him.
They ran themselves rugged and when Wymack pounded on the plexiglass to get them to stop, they both went to sit right where they stood and tried to catch their breaths. They stayed there for a while and Neil only got up when he was sure that his legs wouldn't fail him. A moment later he and Kevin started moving towards the stands where the others were waiting.
“Oh my god, Neil, that was amazing!” Nicky immediately gushed. “Not only are you cute, but you’re also good!”
“Shut the fuck up, Nicky,” Aaron snarked, throwing his cousin a dark look.
Why the dark look, hm? Trying to get a read on unknown people was always interesting. Right until the part when they proved to be boring.
“We’re signing him,” Kevin said in a tone that left no room for argument. “I want him. Give him the contract.”
“Last time I checked you’re not the coach,” Wymack said, but Kevin didn’t do more than scowl at him. Kevin didn’t care for Neil’s backstory, only for his skill, while Wymack didn’t even want him to show off his skills before hearing a tragic tale. Neil filed it away in his head. “But yes, kid, you’re in.”
And the last part of Neil’s today’s plan was finished with success. It hadn’t been a challenge, but he still felt a bit smug with how easy it had been.
“He’s not,” Andrew said in a cheery voice, immediately putting a strain on Neil’s good mood.
“Andrew–” Wymack started, but the boy didn’t let him finish.
“Little birdie here flew all the way to our humble Palmetto from whatever shithole just to play with the laughingstock of class I exy when he could play with the big leagues if he wanted?” he said, a maniacal smile still plastered on his face as he walked over to stand right in front of Neil.
“It’s May already. A little late for recruitment, no?” he continued. “Couldn’t get into college so you try to get into it the easy way?”
“No, Andrew–”
Wymack was completely ignored once again while Andrew’s tone turned into a mocking, theatrical whisper. “Or is it hero worship for our little celebrity, huh? The public heard about Kevin getting on the lineup only after we finished recruitment, so you decided to go specifically where Kevin is? Kevin, did you know that you have a fan? But you tend to attract creeps,” he said, laughing, before looking intently at Neil. “Do take offense to that.”
Neil was torn between doing exactly that – taking full offense to everything Andrew was saying – and being alarmed at how right Andrew was. Neil didn’t get into either MIT or Caltech, and so he argued to be allowed to come to Palmetto so he could continue to play exy in college, and not only that, but with Kevin Day himself. He always did like to work with the best.
Neil thought there was some point that Andrew was trying to get to with his little rant, but Neil couldn’t deduce what exactly it was. The drugs that Andrew was on made him harder to read.
“Interesting how Kevin never saw you on his fancy tapes, or did you, Kevin?” Andrew continued and didn’t even turn around to see Kevin shaking his head in a no. It was interesting to see a pair of eyes so devoid of emotions but so trying to pierce through Neil at the same time. “Kevin treats exy like it’s air he needs to breathe. Did you know that after five to ten minutes of not breathing you’re likely to develop serious and possibly irreversible brain damage?” Neil actually did know that. “And that we take about twenty thousand breaths each day?” That, Neil did not know. What was even the point of this? “Kevin wouldn’t miss your speedy ass on the tapes, so why weren’t you on any single tape at all?”
Kevin frowned at that and joined the interrogation. “He’s right. I would have spotted you.” He looked intently at Neil. “What school is that? I don’t think I recognize this gear.”
Was he serious? Neil didn’t know how many high school exy teams there were in the US, but he was sure that Kevin would not be able to recognize every single one of them, and by gear alone.
Neil felt that now was the time for him to tell his side and answer some questions.
He wasn’t stupid. He did research on the team before coming here, so he knew as much as he could about Andrew Minyard from what was available online.
Some websites called him the Foxes’ deadliest investment–
Which would change as soon as Neil signed the contract.
–and that he was the reason why Kevin came to the Foxes of all teams after his injury. Andrew had been offered a position at Edgar Allan Ravens and was the first person to turn them down. Most speculated that Minyard took Wymack’s offer because it was extended to his twin and cousin. If it was to be believed then it would suggest that the three of them were close, which was important to note. But since Kevin was always seen in public in company of Andrew and since all four of them were currently staying in Palmetto for the summer, Neil thought that the family was now extended from three to four.
They were certainly a group of sorts. Now, did being at odds with one of them meant being at odds with all of them? Neil didn’t know yet. He had to observe them more to decide.
But these things weren’t the most interesting things about the goalie, no. His shaky history with the law was far more interesting.
Neil knew a threat when he saw one, but Minyard didn’t even hide that he was a threat.
Everyone with two eyes would be stupid not to see it. Minyard had a history of violence and Neil didn’t have information whether there had ever been a specific cause for it or not.
He didn’t know if Andrew would answer anything Neil did with a violence or not.
Neil was pretty confident that he could take him in a fight, but he didn’t want to find out. He also didn’t have any weapons on him and he didn’t like fighting without so much as a pocket knife. He was also not supposed to be seen by anyone as a threat himself, and he would keep it that way.
He was just your boy-next-door type with a bit more class and money who attended college and played sports for fun.
So he made sure that neither his eyes nor his smile took on a dangerous edge. Control was important, he knew. Because as much as he’d like to answer the threat with a threat on his own, it wouldn’t be smart.
He kept his tone and expression neutral as he replied at last, “I went to a private high school. We weren’t playing in some sort of league. We just played with a few other private schools once a month or so, nothing serious. And I don’t think any of these schools sent out tapes to exy teams.” No one at Neil’s school was interested in a career in professional sports, which was more than expected in an exclusive school he had attended, but there was no need to say that out loud, he thought.
Aaron scoffed loudly. “Great, another trust fund baby,” he muttered sarcastically and sent Neil a dirty look.
Prejudice against the privileged? Neil wondered, and made a mental note to verify that in the future.
“And I already got into PSU,” he continued, raising an eyebrow at Andrew. His father might have cut out his liver if Neil didn’t get to a good college with his grades alone. “Your insinuation is insultive to my 3.7 GPA, I don’t need a sports scholarship, thank you very much,” he said and oops, some distaste at the concept might have sneaked into his tone.
“3.7 GPA and you came to Palmetto?” Andrew challenged. “Funny how–”
“Yes,” Neil interrupted, because he’s had enough of Andrew’s chatter and the colorful, annoying way of talking. “I don’t really care about which college I was going to go to, but I wanted to keep playing exy. Most teams didn’t have a free spot for a backliner. It was the Foxes, the Trojans or the Tigers for me. Florida’s heat all year long is not for me and Cali is too long of a flight to Baltimore, so I chose PSU.” A truth again.
“Baltimore,” Andrew said and after a second, “Maryland.” He waited just a moment before listing, “Pennsylvania, Delaware, West Virginia and Virginia.”
Neil thought that he didn’t entirely succeed with keeping the bewilderment off his face.
What was Andrew Minyard’s deal?
He couldn’t stop himself from answering with a sarcastic, “You know the states that border Maryland, congratulations.
He thought about one thing Andrew could potentially be alluding to, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions this quick. It was a ridiculous thought and Neil discarded it right away.
Rationally, he knew that he should be wary of Andrew’s suspicions about him.
Neil’s social persona was almost flawless. He’s spent long, long years perfecting it and he was sure that he didn’t show the smallest hint of his true self throughout this whole conversation. What tipped Andrew off? Was it something he said? Was it a facial expression? Was it his body language? But it couldn’t be. He made damn sure he was perfect.
What did you see, Andrew?
One thing for sure was, Neil had to keep his guard high with Andrew, higher than usual. Andrew knew violence, not as intimately as Neil did, but he still did know violence. Like knows like and all that.
It didn’t stop Neil’s natural instinct to rise to a challenge. He loved games, especially those he could win and this one? This one he’s been playing since forever. The stakes just got higher and the opponent was better than usual.
Neil was ready.
“Andrew, stop with this nonsense,” Wymack finally interrupted their impromptu mostly one-sided stand off. “Don’t fucking scare him away before he even signed.”
“I don’t want him, coach,” Andrew said, still looking at Neil and still with this manic cheer. “You don’t need him in the lineup.”
Kevin sputtered at that. “Are you kidding me? We need him, did you see how he plays? It’s a miracle that he came to us and that he’s not playing for someone else. Coach, tell Andrew that we’re signing him.”
“Yes, we are,” Wymack confirmed. “Come to my office, I’ll get the papers ready.”
Neil hoped his eyes didn't show how smug he felt.
“Your funeral,” Andrew said, seemingly to coach, but Neil knew the words were directed at him.
Neil felt a challenge yet again, this time loud and clear. And oh, this might be even more interesting than he thought it would be.
1-0, Andrew. Show me what you’ve got.