Page 41 of All Too Well
“Slowlyis definitely the word of the day there.”
We spend the next hour drinking coffee, and she lets me bounce my ideas around, interjecting when she sees a flaw or another angle to consider.
I fire off my email just in time to Mr. Krispen, and then I head off for another thrilling Ultimate Frisbee practice.
I have the green light on three of the six. Whichever of those feels the best, Mr. Krispen wants me to run with it.
He’s hoping that the article will be more personal interest than sport, but he wants a really good stronghold on sports in general.
Which, you know, is so not my thing.
His parting line in the email still has me rattled.
Ainsley,
All of these are good, but these three are the best options fromwhat I can see. The story will be more full circle if we can focus on how they started playing sports and ended the same way. So I want sports involved in this no matter what. You know the stakes, if you nail this assignment, we’ll be able to open new doors for you. I like that you’re turning this into a bigger story than just one guy.
Good luck and I have faith in you.
Mr. K
I read it again, waiting for the words to scramble themselves to say:You’re a dumbass. Good luck with the sportsball.
But they don’t.
I glance back up at the field, seeing the guys coming off laughing and pushing each other around.
Practice was exactly like the last, a bunch of older men trying to throw a Frisbee, missing a lot, and then blaming the other. However, I really wouldn’t even know if they were missing or if that’s supposed to be what happened.
There’s no clear offense or defense. It’s just one ... fense.
They run back and forth, and sometimes they’re flicking? Throwing? Airing it out? Then suddenly they’re batting it to the ground and whooping.
I watched about twenty videos online to see if I could figure out the sport, but ... these guys don’t seem to be following those rules.
“Did you enjoy practice?” Everett asks as they’re grabbing water and toweling their faces.
“I did. It was ... thrilling.”
He snorts a laugh. “Embarrassing is the word we all used.”
“Hey!” Miles jumps in. “I had that rather spectacular catch.”
I grin. “I did notice that.”
“Do you have questions about the sport?” Miles asks.
“Is it a sport?” I figure we might as well start with the one most people will ask.
Killian tries to hide his smile. “It’s something.”
I turn to him. He’s the oldest of the bunch and has a dusting of silver mixing with his dark-brown hair at the temples. When I did my research on him, he was destined for great things infootball. They said he had one of the best hands the sport had ever seen. He could catch a ball no matter where it was placed on the field and was drafted, but then never played and left after one season.
“Why do you play, Killian? I know you’re a successful businessman and you don’t live in Ember Falls full-time, but you never miss practice or a game.”
Killian pulls his duffel bag onto his shoulder. “For fun. For friendship, and because there’s nothing I love more than kicking a bunch of college kids’ asses who roll onto the field thinking we’re an easy win.”
“You guys have won?” I ask with obvious surprise. Not that I know much about this sport, but it doesn’t seem to me that they’re any good.
