Page 11 of Possession

Eventually, Kevan says, “Not everyone feels safe admitting it, though. Some guys are good at trying to hide who they really are.”

That gets me thinking about my fucking father—master of hiding his true self. I mean, it’s sort of the opposite. My father hides that he is a monster and Kevan’s saying my teammates are afraid of monsters. Everyone in my home town thinks dad’s some upstanding citizen. Turning all the boys of Fulton football into men. Loving mentor. All of it an act.

My father would come home and spit venom, complaining about everyone and everything in his life, detailing how thoroughly everyone was standing in his way. Most especially me and Brody.

I honestly think that’s how Olive got her start as a trainer. She’d look after me when he’d twist my arm behind my back for missing a spot washing the dishes. She figured out how to massage my head if he slammed it off the dining room table. Brody never had anyone like Olive to look after him. Sounds like Kevan knows a thing or two about that experience himself.

I don’t like thinking about my brother the night before a game. I roll around for awhile, trying to forget everything Kevan said, too. Eventually I hear him snoring and I cram a pillow over my head. I fall asleep thinking about Olive’s touch on my skin and how much I missed feeling that in the training room this week.

CHAPTER TEN

Olive

FOOTBALL SATURDAYS HAVE always had a special rhythm. Usually, I wake up early and head into the training room, get everything set up to tape ankles and wrap wrists. The linemen always come in first, needing more attention than everyone else. And then I give Bax a pep talk, assure him I’ll be watching from the stands, wearing his jersey. I kiss his forehead each week, for luck.

So today, when I’m in the natatorium all morning stretching out swimmers, I just feel off.

Tim was in early for some more treatments for his back. He’s not going to let anything like muscle spasms prevent him from competing. I’ve been around athletes long enough to know they don’t sit out until their coach screams in their face.

Nobody seems to mind that I, an undergrad assistant, step in to work out Tim’s hamstrings and hook him up to the TENS unit. Justin is over with the football players for game prep, so the mood in the training room is pretty light while I go about my business.

Tim is doing much better after a few days of lighter training and heavier stretches. He is even chatty, telling me about his internship from last summer in New York City.

He grits his teeth as I lean into his leg, trying to get some more stretch from his thighs. “Yeah,” he says. “The hours were insane at the bank, but I was staying with my cousin and he has a pool in his building, so I could still get in off-season workouts.”

“That’s good that you can be that disciplined on your own,” I tell him, gesturing for him to roll to his stomach. I crank back his hairless shin to stretch his quads, marveling again that I can be so close to an objectively beautiful body and feel nothing sexual. Not even a flutter in my belly.

I get him race ready and stare at the clock. One more hour of my shift. I’ll miss the first quarter of the football game. I head into the office to make notes, update Tim’s chart, trying to be ready to leave as soon as possible.

There’s a grad student trainer in here working on charts, too. She looks at me questioningly as I sit at the big table we all share. “Justin reassigned me the other day,” I tell her. “I was on football before.” I shrug.

“This is a big shift,” she says. “Anyway, I’m Emily.” She holds out a hand, and I shake it.

“Olive,” I tell her. “Pleased to meet you.”

We sit next to each other working for awhile, and then she stops and stares at me. “I know who you are,” she says. “Julia was telling me. You’re the undergrad wonderkid.”

“Wonderkid?”

Emily tells me how Julia was bragging about me to the other grad students in the program. I flush, embarrassed, but Emily grins. “I’m glad you’ll get more hands-on experience with the swimmers. This will be good for you.” She shows me her folder.

Emily’s doing her PhD research on knee ligament tears. She’s been trying to get moved back to soccer or a sport with more impact, since the swimmers don’t really damage their knees all that often.

Turns out, Justin has been shifting a lot of people around this semester.

“So who got sent to fill my spot at football? Why not you?” Emily shrugs and looks over my shoulder, like she’s searching for someone.

“Honestly? I wasn’t willing to kiss Justin’s ass, so he sent me here as punishment.”

“What? That’s insane.”

Emily shrugs. “It’s just a thing he does. He’s on such a power trip. None of the higher ups give a shit because the athletes are all fine. It’s just that none of us can really finish our research easily since we don’t get the right cases for our focus.”

I spend the rest of my shift thinking about Emily’s words, wondering what comes next. As soon as my time’s up, I hurry to grab my things, wanting to get to the stadium as quickly as I can.

Emily shouts out, “You wanna come to the Dark Horse? A bunch of us are going to watch the game on the TV there,” she says.

“Oh,” I pause. I look down at my Morgan jersey. It’s not one like fans can buy in the gift shop—this is one of Baxter’s actual practice jerseys. A lot of the players give these to their girlfriends…he says he just likes knowing he’s got a friendly face in the family section. “I actually have to get to the stadium. I have tickets…”

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