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“Yeah,” Red said. I think my blood started to boil, certainly the skin on my cheeks heated, though it wasn’t from the run. I didn’t want to believe him, but I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure that he wasn’t telling the truth. “Her Mom’s picking her up, so I thought I’d help.”
A stab of jealousy hit me again. Probably he wasn’t lying. Her Mom was likely picking her up, which meant she did need help. A tiny sliver of hope died.
“Get to the showers,” I commanded, making him race away.
“Hey, man, I wondered where you were,” Sawyer said as I thumped my locker door unnecessarily.
“Just doing a cool down,” I huffed, brushing him off.
“Nobody runs laps as a cool down,” Sawyer said with a laugh. “What’s eating you?”
“Nothing,” I said, though there was the realization that I wouldn’t escape Dad’sextraworkout tonight. Ha! What did I expect—for Sierra to rescue me from him every night? It had been Red she’d asked to help with the cart, not me.
Man, I was a mess.
“Well, hurry up,” Sawyer said, “hit the shower. Millie’s waiting out in the gym.”
“Huh?”
“She’s going to interview us for the blog.”
“What?”
“Millie wants a video. Go make yourself pretty. Or I’ll hog the camera.” He ran his hand through his hair, laughing at his own joke.
I came out of the shower to see Sawyer still styling his hair in front of the mirror, and in the gym a booth had been set up with a screen and three chairs. Millie was flicking through some notes, while Phoenix Carter adjusted a tripod and camera.
“What’s going on?”
“Captain’s Chat,” Millie said.
“Huh?” I was feeling a lot dumb today.
“I’m setting up a segment called Captain’s Chat,” Millie said. “I’m going to ask you a question, then you and Sawyer can discuss it. Phoenix is helping with the video. Is that okay?”
I tentatively looked to Dad, unsure of how I should answer.
“It’s sounds like a good idea to me,” Dad said, aiming a big smile at Millie.
“I want it to be quite informal,” Millie said, handing Sawyer and me a sheet of paper. “Take a look at these questions, then we can get started.”
My brain misted over as I stared at the questions, nothing registering. Millie seemed to be stepping up big time, from reporting for the Covington Times to hosting video sessions. Oh, and also it hadn’t escaped me that Dad had not only agreed to the interview, but he was assisting Phoenix with the camera, which would cut into our extra training time. Somehow, I’d been let off the hook—again.
“I’ll give you a few minutes,” Millie said, “and then we can get started. And it won’t matter if we mess up. Phoenix and I can edit it later.”
Millie called our interview a non-interview, just friends casually sitting around talking football. She would instigate the chat, and wanted Sawyer and I to follow through on it. Sure, there were a few blooper moments as we were initially self conscious, but once we started talking about the training session we were able to relax.
After a few questions, Millie called cut and suggested that Coach come in. She wanted Dad to act like he was randomly walking by, and I was made to call out, “Hey, Coach, how did you rate today’s training session?”
Phoenix reshot Dad’s entry three times before he managed to speak a coherent sentence. Sawyer and I tried not to laugh as Dad got all nervous and tongue-tied. Which was probably the first time I’d seen him look so...vulnerable. Yeah, Abe Mercer was usually the tough guy, bold and brash, but here he was stumbling over what was a simple response. Weird, because he’d been interviewed by reporters plenty of times, and I’d never known him to be at a loss for words.
Millie and Phoenix reviewed the footage and Millie let out a jubilant cry. “This is so great. Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Dad said, his confidence restored after Phoenix praised his natural ability in front of the camera. Admittedly, he did improve.
“Tomorrow I’d like you back with some of the other boys,” Millie said to me, but her gaze darted to Coach tentatively. “I mean, if that’s okay. I’m thinking if we can post content everyday, it’ll help with the algorithm and get us more views.”
“Yes. Absolutely. Whatever you want.” Dad was extremely agreeable. “You’re the expert.”
