Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Right near the corner was a picture Neil didn't recognize at all: a shot of Neil and Andrew standing alone. They were bundled up in their matching coats and staring each other down barely a breath apart. It took Neil a moment to place it; the people packed into the background didn't look like a game crowd. The windows finally gave it away. Dan had taken this at Upstate Regional Airport on their way to play against Texas. Neil hadn't even realized she'd been watching them.
Neil had gotten caught in a couple of her group pictures, but this was the only one up that had Neil's natural looks. Dan had even caught Neil on his right side, so the bandage over his tattoo wasn't showing. This was a picture of Nathaniel Wesninski; this was the moment Neil gave Andrew his name. Neil reached out to tear the picture down but stopped as soon as he caught hold of the edge.
He'd come to Palmetto State to play, but he'd also come because Kevin was proof that a real person existed behind all of his lies. In May both Nathaniel and Neil would be gone, but in June this picture would still be here. He'd be a tiny part of the Foxhole Court for years to come. It was comforting, or it should be. Neil didn't think comfort should feel like such a sick knot in his stomach.
Luckily for him Wymack showed up then. He had a brown paper bag hanging from one hand and a box stuffed with papers in his arms. Neil got the door behind him so Wymack could put his things down. Wymack looked around the lounge a moment, then put the TV on the ground and shoved the entertainment center closer to the couches as a makeshift table. Neil watched him lay out folders in four stacks. When Wymack tossed the empty box aside, Neil opened the closest folder for a peek. It was a profile sheet with an unfamiliar picture on it.
"Potential recruits," Wymack explained. "We need six minimum."
"Six," Neil echoed as he knelt opposite Wymack. "You're doubling the line?"
"Not by choice," Wymack said. He pulled bagel sandwiches and juice from the brown bag and split the haul with Neil. "It was one of the conditions of us staying in the game when Andrew got locked up. The ERC doesn't like how close we've cut it this year and they don't want to keep bending the rules for us. I promised it'd never happen again. That means filling up on subs next year."
Wymack checked each stack, then pushed one toward Neil. "The girls are all going to be fifth-year seniors, so we need at least three bodies training to replace them. In total we're looking for two strikers, two dealers, a backliner, and a goalie. Find me some potential and we'll narrow it down later."
"Shouldn't Kevin be doing this with you?" Neil asked.
"You choose the first cut," Wymack said. "He'll do the second. I'll make the final call."
Neil looked at the stack of files in front of him. At length he opened the top one and started to read through pages of statistics: fitness, scoring trends, ratios, and so on. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, but he had an idea by the time he made it to the third striker. The third striker was consistently good, but the fourth was more interesting because there was measurable improvement. Discs were taped to the inside back cover of every folder, likely containing clips of the players' brightest moments.
He split the files into two stacks, the most promising and the maybes, and went back through both piles when he was done. He thought the second round would be faster now that he'd seen everyone's information, but he second-guessed himself on every one. Wymack would probably finish every other position by the time Neil made up his mind, but when Neil sneaked a glance in his direction Wymack wasn't much further along than he was. Wymack's gaze wasn't even moving. He wasn't reading statistics; he was studying the player's picture like it could tell him everything he needed to know.
Neil looked back at the open file in front of him and tried to see what Wymack saw. Maybe Wymack could read pain in people like Neil could read anger; where Neil saw a girl's unshakeable calm maybe Wymack saw a vacant stare and defeated shoulders. Neil wondered if Wymack had seen anything in his high school snapshot or if he'd just trusted Hernandez's assessment that something was wrong. He'd like to think he had a good poker face, but Wymack was rarely fooled by it anymore.
"Problem?" Wymack asked.
"No," Neil lied, and went back to the task at hand.
It took half the morning to get through the would-be strikers, but Neil finally had a stack ready for Kevin and Wymack to pore through. Wymack set it on the ground by his knee and put the rejected files back in the box.
"Anything else?" Neil asked.
"Free to go," Wymack said. "You need a ride?"
"I'm fine," Neil said.
"Uh-huh," Wymack said without looking up. Neil let it go and gathered their breakfast trash. He was almost to the garbage can before Wymack spoke up. "By the way, I'm making you vice-captain next year."
Neil's heart lodged in his throat. He twisted to stare at Wymack, but it took two tries to find his voice. "You're what?"
"Dan's got to leave eventually," Wymack said. "She needs a replacement."
"Not me," Neil protested. "You should be asking Matt or Kevin."
"Talented players with more experience," Wymack allowed, "but they don't have what this team needs. Do you know why I made Dan captain?" Wymack glanced up at Neil and waited for Neil to shake his head. "I knew the moment I saw her she could lead this team. It didn't matter what her teammates thought of her; it didn't matter what the press thought of her. She refused to be a failure so she refused to give up on this team. That's what I needed to get the Foxes off the ground.