Page 50 of Lost Paradise

“American Football,” Mr. Coldwell clarifies, shedding light on the matter.

“I didn’t know you played that position,” Eve responds softly to Zane. Then, addressing the rest of us, she adds, "It's actually aprestigious position to have on the team.”

“The most crucial,” Zane clarifies. “Not that it made any difference for the recruiting coaches. I did everything right with regard to navigating my way across each step of the application process, from earnestly reaching out to the recruiters and submitting my SAT scores ahead of schedule, not to mention dedicating my summers to grueling training camps for the last three years. I had the perfect grades. I did everything I was supposed to do.”

“So what happened?” Eve asks, and we’re all glued on Zane.

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze shifting as he gathers his thoughts. Finally, he begins to speak, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

“Coach said scouts were searching for something beyond our expectations. The demand outweighed the supply. One of my teammates was offered the same athletic financial aid I had applied for. He played runner.”

“That’s not as crucial as QB,” Eve remarks, displaying her knowledge of the game. Judging by the brief grin he gives her, it's clear he respects her for it, too.

“I come from Federal Heights,” Zane expands, “it’s a town my parents moved to when I was six, and I grew up hating it. My parents are ranch helpers. They work ten-hour shifts for a below-salary wage with no medical and no chance of ever getting anything better. I have always had dreams, and none of them had to do with that place. This was supposed to be my ticket out of town, my chance to start a real future for myself. I refuse to remain trapped in that town like my parents are for the rest of my life.”

He lets out a deep sigh, the weight of his words evident in the exhalation.

“Football always ran deep for me. It wasn’t just a mere passion, but it became an integral part of my identity and lifestyle. That adrenaline rush I felt every time I stepped onto the field, the exhilaration of a perfectly executed play, and the solidarity I shared with my teammates created an unparalleled sense of happiness and satisfaction to my well-being.”

He meets my gaze head-on, his eyes revealing a depth of emotion.

“Football is my life. It’s deeply engraved into my identity.”

Eve releases him, understanding that he doesn't want her pity, nor does she want to offer it. It is interesting how she knows how to read his needs.

"So, how did you transition to martial arts?" I inquire, curiosity piqued.

“I only pursued taekwondo and fencing to enhance my football skills,” Zane explains. “Coach made the entire team take classes. Somehow, I developed a natural hack for it. For two consecutive years, I won every state championship and made it to the national level, but I never took part because football was my focus.”

“I saw the application video your coach sent to Hawthornes,” Mr. Coldwell reveals. "I was involved in the selection process. Zane, there's no doubt in my mind—you have what it takes to win gold in the Olympics.”

The encouragement in his voice speaks volumes, but his genuine admiration for Zane goes beyond mere encouragement.

“And that’s why I applied. While the idea of heading to some Braveheart-esque country was not exactly what I had in mind for my future, I wasn’t going to decline an offer to get out of Federal Heights where I had no future.”

“And your parents?”

“My parents never understood my need for college football or do anything beyond the town’s borders. They never finished high school. My mom had me at sixteen. My father isn’t my biological father, but he’s the man with whom she’s lived with but never married. I have no idea who my birth father is. He ran off as soon as he knocked her up. I had always been this burden to her. She never admitted it, but with the kind of distant relationship we had, she made it painfully obvious. When I was old enough to take care of myself, I focused on football and spent less time at home. Not that she was ever there, to begin with. I never want to end up like either of them. Just living without a purpose. But even now, my scholarship hangs on a very thin line. It’s dependable on whether I make it to the Olympic team. If I don’t, my ass will be shipped back to a town I despise with every sense of the word.”

“We’ll get you through, mate,” Mr. Coldwell assures Zane. "When you feel ready, we can begin training."

“Here? On the island?” Zane questions.

“No better place to focus,” Mr. Coldwell responds. "Just before sundown, when there's still enough light,but it's not as warm and sunny."

“I’m curious,” Jack interjects to Mr. Coldwell. “Why did you drop out of the Olympics to go into teaching? Surely, you're not old enough to retire from sports."

“Well, my reasons are somewhat similar to Zanes’s. When karate dropped out of the Olympics, I lost my spirit. Karate isn’t just about fighting; the first rule of martial arts is not to use your training to hurt someone unless you absolutely have to. To me, the passion I had for the sport was something inside me; it was never just a discipline or some fighting technique, so when it was thrown out of the Olympics for not gaining enough interest, it broke me in a way that I find difficult to explain. I lost my will to participate. My first sensei once told me defeat is merely a detour, not a dead-end. It’s kind of how I felt at the time, defeated that I had worked so hard, only to be told by Olympic officials to piss off. I could have continued participating in Taekwondo and fencing, but I snapped.”

Mr. Coldwell hesitates. His brow furrows, and his jaw tenses. His eyes momentarily lose their usual warmth, instead reflecting a distant, troubled gaze. His shoulders slump subtly, a sign of the weight of the memories he's revisiting. His entire expression is briefly clouded by thoughts he'd rather not dwell on.

“I had a moment where I lost control in a way I shouldn't have, and I realized I'd failed to uphold my discipline," he explains solemnly. "It was a wake-up call. I possess skills that could potentially determine someone's fate, and in that moment of anger, I recognized the danger of not being able to rein in that dark side of myself. So, I made the decision to shift my focus. I committed to earning my degree at university, and then this opportunity at Hawthornes arose. I negotiated a deal where I could work in the sports section, training aspiring professional athletes in martial arts.”

“I bet you made your folks all proud with your shiny-arsed useless medals,” Astro quips, his tone dripping with sarcasm and mockery.

As much as I’m not so keen on Mr. Coldwell, it has more to do with his taboo relationship with Eve, so I can only wish that the darker side of him emerges to get rid of Astro.

“My mum died of cancer when I was fourteen, and I never met my father,” Mr. Coldwell retorts, his voice carrying the weight of his past. "He was a squaddie who died in Afghanistan while on duty, and she was pregnant with me."

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