Chapter Text
Neil Josten let his cigarette burn down to the filter without taking a drag. The acrid smell of smoke pulled at memories of his mother better left buried on that beach in California. Eight years avoiding the ocean and she dies on the shore.
He exhaled the memories of a year old fire and tossed the one in his hand down the bleachers he perched on. The smell of chlorine invaded his nose as the smoke dissipated. The shabby pool was closing down in preparation of summer. There was no use keeping it open since the Millport swim team got knocked out of Spring Championships just that evening. Neil felt a pang of longing as a tarp was rolled out across the pool’s surface. What he had done, joining the swim team for his senior year, was reckless. Stupid. Monumentally insane. But without his mother’s harsh words and harsher hands, he hadn’t been able to resist. The water called to him as it always had, and he was weak.
He reached for another cigarette with a slightly shaking hand just as the locker room door to his left clicked open. Out stepped the Millport swim coach, Hernandez—a good man, if a bit awkward. He cleared his throat under Neil’s wary gaze. “Didn’t see your parents tonight.”
“Out of town for work,” Neil shrugged off.
“Still or again?” And this was why he only liked Hernandez sometimes. He knew the coach turned a blind eye to the changing out in the bath stall and sleeping in the locker room a couple times a week, but then sometimes, this. Well-meaning but a bit curious. Neil chose to ignore him. A throat cleared again, “Listen kid, I’ve got someone here that would like a word.”
The words immediately set Neil on edge. His right hand drifted down out of sight to grab the worn handles of his duffle bag. Before he could excuse himself, the door opened again. The man behind Hernandez was the approximate age and height of Neil’s father and Neil shot to his feet out of instinct. The man was vaguely familiar—dark, close cropped hair over a gruff, sun-weathered face and tribal flame tattoos poking out under short sleeves. But Neil couldn’t place his face until the man reached a hand around Hernandez to introduce himself, “David Wymack.”
The connection sparked as a chill shot down Neil’s spine, “Coach of the Palmetto State swim team.”
Wymack dropped his hand with a grunt, “Not many people can make that connection.”
“You took on Kevin Day. Everyone knows who you are now,” Neil snapped back. His knuckles whitened as he hefted his duffle over his shoulder. “Why are you here?”
“Recruitment,” came the short answer.
“Bullshit,” he scoffed back. “No one recruits from Millport.”
The chill grew as Wymack brought up a folder in his other hand. “Well, this says otherwise. Your coach sent me your file, and honestly, kid, we like what we see.”
Neil didn’t wait to hear more. He dodged around the two men and banged through the door. Shouts rang behind him as he bolted through the locker room. Then he was on the ground, breath missing, and a cackle assaulting his ears.
“Dammit Minyard! This is why we can’t have nice things,” Wymack shouted from the doorway.
“Awe, Coach, if he was nice, we wouldn’t be here,” Neil heard from above him.
He lifted his head to glare at the blond midget above him. “Fuck you,” he wheezed out with a cough. The cackle returned. “Yeah, he’s a Fox. Put a bandaid on him—he’ll be good as new.”
Minyard stood twirling a pool net in hand with a demented grin as Neil regained his feet. He subtly patted his ribs to check for breaks. “I’m not gonna be a Fox.”
“Kid, Kevin says we have to have you so we’re not leaving until you sign,” Wymack said warily while making his way further into the room.
That brought Neil up short. Not only because Kevin Day wanted him on his line but also, “We? Tell me you didn’t. You did not bring him here.”
“Yeah, he did,” called a voice that Neil hadn’t heard in over eight years. And Neil had to go. Kevin would recognize him. He would smell him. He had to run. The bus stop was only five miles away. The busses ran all night. If he could just “—inexperience can be forgiven. You swim like you have nothing to lose.”
Inexperience. Kevin doesn’t recognize me. It shouldn’t surprise Neil. With dyed hair, colored contacts, and eight years between them, Kevin would be hard pressed to recognize the boy he swam with as a child. And there’s no way Kevin would smell him. He wasn’t—there’s no way. Even if Neil could smell a faint salty tang coming from where Kevin sat on the entertainment center. No, for now I’m safe.
And Kevin was waiting for a response. Having missed most of the conversation, Neil settled for a dismissive snort. Which was apparently the wrong and right answer. While Minyard cackled again, Wymack grimaced and Kevin took offense. He hopped off his perch and stalked forward, “You will sign with us. If you have even a fraction of the passion that the tapes show, you can’t not continue swimming.”
Neil hid a flinch not only from the truth in Kevin’s words, but also from the strong whiff of brackish saltwater coming off of him. Regardless, he set his jaw, ready to talk Kevin out of this unattainable dream he was dangling in front of Neil.
Before he could open his mouth, Wymack cut in, “Andrew, Kevin, go wait in the car.” Minyard immediately sauntered toward the door, but Kevin lingered until Wymack waved in clear dismissal. As soon as the door shut, the coach let out a weary sigh and sat on the bench closest to him. “Look, kid. Swimming isn’t the only reason we’re here. Hernandez sent me your file because you fit the profile of my kids. You won’t be able to keep sleeping in the locker room come summer. What do you plan to do then?”
Neil took a moment to violently hate Hernandez. He took another moment to fiercely wish the pool was still open. Wymack took his silence for a concession. “Exactly. So sign with us. We can house you as soon as you graduate. Full scholarship, housing and food for five years.”
It was too good. There was no way. But goddamn how Neil wanted it right then. “I’ll have to ask my mom.” This was going to be the biggest mistake of his life. “Your file says you’re eighteen.” “I still need to talk to her,” he stalled while backing towards the door.
“If you need me to—“
“No. No, its fine.”
Wymack stood from the bench but stayed out of reach. He held out a manila envelope, “Go ahead and take the paper work. Look it over. You can get Hernandez to fax it over and we’ll send you a plane ticket for the day after graduation.”
Neil took the folder, knuckles white, and tremors stifled. He gave a sharp nod and tried to walk steadily out the door instead of bolting like his instincts were begging him to. He could feel Wymack at his back even if he kept a respectable distance. The itch to run grew when he hit the door to outside. Wymack’s offer for a ride barely registered and he didn’t quite manage to wave him off before he was sprinting away, Minyard’s cackle following him out of the parking lot.
Neil didn’t stop until he was in the bathroom of the house he’d been squatting in for the better part of the past nine months. He heaved his empty stomach dry as the implications of the meeting settled. Kevin knows where I am. Kevin found me. If he did then—
No. Kevin didn’t recognize him. And Neil was weak. He was so fucking weak. With his mother gone, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to say no.
University.
It was a dream. A fantasy. It was going to get him killed.
Neil unzipped his duffle and buried a hand in his fur. He grabbed the file from the floor with his other hand and started going through the contract.