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“Yeah. It was cool of Cully to mention you at assembly.”
I’d forgotten about that. “Embarrassing,” I said, “but yeah, it was cool.” I deliberately paused, searching for the right phrase, my heart pounding so much that I wouldn’t be surprised if Sawyer could hear it. “How’s Cullen handling the pressure? Is he okay?”
Sawyer turned his head, but I turned mine faster. I didn’t want to make eye contact, instead studying the tip of the pen. “Nothing fazes Cully,” he said. “He’s a rock.”
I forced a smile onto my lips. “Okay, thanks for this.” I scurried out, but I stopped at the door, needing to know. “Ah, Sawyer, you know when you do those wall squat thingys, how do you do them?”
There was slight frown on his face. “Against the wall,” he ordered with bemusement.
I stepped next to the wall, and with my back to it, slid down. “Like this?”
“Lower,” Sawyer said. “Legs at a 90 degree angle.”
I shifted down until my thighs were horizontal. “Doesn’t seem so bad.”
“You’ve been there five seconds,” Sawyer said. “Try minutes. With a weight overhead.”
I raised my hands above my head. “You guys have to do this?”
Sawyer laughed. “Sometimes. But with a 20 pound weight.”
I stayed there, visualizing Cullen being forced to do it, legs and arms shaking, and after a practice session where he’d worked his tail off. It kinda bordered on abuse.
Sawyer looked up from his screen. “What do you wanna know for?”
“Uh, my soccer coach said I should do some pre-season training,” I said. “I thought it might be good for my legs.”
“Yep. Legs and shoulders.”
“Okay.” I stood myself up straight, but I could feel the strain and wobbliness in my legs, and it was worse in my arms even though I hadn’t been holding any weight.
I slunk back to my room, my mind unsettled and wild. I’d heard what I heard and couldn’t find clarity, my heart heavy and hurting too much for Cullen. That his own father would make him do extra training. Bully him.
But what could I do? What could I say?
Could I help, or was it family business that I should stay out of it?
Jumping off of my bed, I went down the hallway and knocked on Sawyer’s door again.
His call of “What?” was a little more aggrieved.
“Just me,” I said, poking my head in to see him typing on his keyboard. If I mentioned it to Sawyer, he would mention it to Cullen and that might make Cullen feel worse. More than anything I didn’t want Cullen to be humiliated. I had to come up with a better plan. “I wondered if you had a green marker I could borrow?”
Sawyer’s brow furrowed as he nodded toward his desk again. “Just take the whole tin. I don’t need them.”
“Thanks,” I said, a new idea formulating already.
