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Brayden waved a hand, dismissive. “It’s fine, lil bro. I’ll find something else.”

“But you... you said...”

He fixed me with a look. “I said, it’s fine.”

Only it hadn’t been fine, not when he’d asked me to hold his place the other day. Not when he’d told me he was fucked without this job; not when he’d admitted that he couldn’t afford to stay at school without the income. Couldn’t be a part of this team without it.

I opened my mouth to protest further. Then shut it so hard my teeth chattered, when Coach appeared.

He cast a cold glance across the three of us. “Everyone else sleeping in, I suppose.” He jabbed a finger at Jefferson and me. “You two, get out there, get warmed up. Brayden, you’re meant to stay off that ankle, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do your upper body sets.”

“Yes, sir,” Brayden said, nodding.

Coach stared at me, sharply. As though he was concerned that simply by being in proximity to his two star seniors, I might infect them with my divided loyalties.

I tried not to wriggle in the intensity of his gaze.

“Eoin, your pin escapes have been atrocious lately. Focus, before I start to wonder whether you’re even meant to be on this team.”

“Coach!” Shock in Jefferson’s voice.

The scathing look shifted. “And you’re meant to be team captain. If I’m the one pointing this stuff out, what the hell are you doing? Get your damn head in the game.”

“Yes, sir,” Jefferson snapped out, sounding borderline mutinous.

A gesture, angry dismissal. “Get going, then. And when the others decide to get off their asses and join us, you can tell them I expect fifty laps of the gym from them. Maybe that’ll remind them that punctuality isn’t optional.”

He stomped out, leaving uncomfortable silence in his wake.

“It’s my fault,” I said, softly. Almost not wanting to be heard, for my admission of guilt to go unnoticed. Ashamed, in all the ways shame could form. “He’s pissed at me, but taking it out on the whole team.”

Jefferson nudged me with his elbow. “If it wasn’t you, lil bro, it’d be ten other reasons. That’s just the way he is, you know that.”

I looked up; grateful for his rationalizing, even if I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe it.

“Still, I’m sorry,” I told them. Made myself hold Brayden’s eye. “You can have all the money that Harvey gave me. And the tips, too.”

The senior shook his head, seeming almost embarrassed at my offer.

“It’s okay, lil bro. Don’t stress about it.”

#

I was stressed, though. Stressed and sore.

Carlos, Donny, and the others had accepted their punishment for lateness with, if not quite good grace, then at least grudging indifference. Jefferson wasn’t wrong when he said Coach’s bugbears and priorities could be capricious. You didn’t have to be on the team long to know that some days you’d walk into the locker room and find yourself already being scolded.

It wasn’t entirely clear whether Donny was taking his frustrations at that out on me, in turn, as we practiced together. Maybe it was just that dancing - or my rough semblance of it - had stretched muscles in unfamiliar ways, and now I was to pay for being so presumptuous.

“Where’s your head at, dude?” Donny sounded annoyingly normal, for someone who’d just tripped me, scooped me, and slammed me onto the mat on my back. A little breathlessness would’ve been less cruel to my ego.

Still, there was a part of me oddly relieved to have an excuse to lie there. Even if it was with another guy yanking my leg up in the hope of keeping me pinned.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

Donny chuckled. “Don’t apologize to me; you’re making me look good. But eventually Coach is gonna notice if you keep phoning it in.”

He was right, I knew he was, but I also knew that I had a simmering morass of feelings all fighting in my stomach. Wanting to please Coach, to prove to him that I was worthy of my spot on the team, and yet simultaneously furious at him. Struggling to understand how he could be so cold, so dismissive. Issue an ultimatum without even asking me for the reasons behind what I’d done.