Page 37 of The Player Penalty
Ms. Lankford opens a familiar door, and a familiar face greets me.
“Ms. Terry!”
“I see you two know each other,” says Ms. Lankford.
“She was a student of mine her senior year. I thought you might choose art school at one point, but this is a great second choice. Come on in, Lily. It’s great to see you again.”
“But what about my interview?”
“My dear, this was the interview. You were spectacular,” says Ms. Lankford.
∞∞∞
“Dad, the kids were adorable. Little Stevie spent the entire time cutting out circles, and Liam drew trains. We were supposed to do a macaroni art project, but those two had their own plans.”
It was my first official day as a class assistant, and it was easily one of the most enjoyable in ages. Sure, cleaning up spilled paint wasn’t my favorite part, but listening to their chatter and adding to it made up for that part.
Dad barely stops eating to respond. “That sounds very nice. Does this mean you’ll be continuing with your education degree?”
What does that mean? It could be he thinks I’ll change my mind again, or Dad wants me to do something else. “It’s the first time I can’t see myself switching majors.” Again. Business, then Communications before that, and then Psychiatry. Oh, and Library Science, too. I can’t forget that. They were poor choices, made because it was the next step, an excuse to keep going with little understanding of what I wanted. It took two failed job interviews and several weeks of misery atRMSto admit I was pursuing the wrong things. “Do you think I’ll be a bad teacher?” The mere idea stings.
Dad pats my hand. “No, it’s not that at all. I only want you to be sure it’s what you want. There’s no hurry, and it’s important we find a career that allows you to leverage your strengths.”
The ‘we’ slipped by without his notice. That stupid internship withRMSonly came to be because Dad thought my eventual job choices were a decision we would make together. I’ve needed support for every other major decision; there’s no reason that one would be any different. I should correct him, and maybe that will happen someday. Not yet, though, because I’m afraid I’m wrong.
“I hope this will.”
Dad’s concern comes out in his voice. It’s familiar by now after years of hearing it. It’s carefully even, with every word in the same calm rhythm. Julian told me he yells in the garage, pushing the pit crews and engineers to be better. Apparently, he constantly threatens and demands, while I don’t remember him even raising his voice.
A person doesn’t always need to yell to know you’re trying their patience. Many times, Dad’s frustration with me has lurked under the surface. Our lone beach vacation is the perfect example. The year he signed me up for dance lessons is another.Every lesson was a terror; Dad thought it would raise my self-esteem.
“Take heart, Lily. You know a job is waiting for you atRMS,with me, if needed. You’ll make a great teacher but never worry. Something creative might suit you well.”
Creative is code for low pressure. “I’m not sure a career atRMSis for me. For now, Julian’s great with my school schedule, but it isn’t permanent.”
“Is he bothering you?”
“What? No.” Bothering sounds like a code for something else. “He’s very encouraging. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Because I’ve been in this industry my entire career and know his type. I went to fetch him from his trailer once last season because he was late for the driver’s meeting. I found him in bed with two women and his trailer reeking of alcohol. He finished thirty-second in that race. Julian Murphy may have found a streak of discipline in him, but that doesn’t mean he can keep it up. That’s who he is, Lily. He’s a charmer, I’m sure, but he’s also a screw-up.”
15-Lily
Richmond Raceway
“Quals are boring, aren’t they?” Sarah asks from where she sits beside me.
“I suppose so.” It feels rude to answer otherwise. It’s an integral part of the sport, even if it doesn’t interest me.
The loudspeakers blare Julian’s number, and my ears perk, which Sarah notices.
“You should join our celebration next week,” she says.
“What celebration?”
“The one for Matteo. Julian organized it. Jake is doing a sign-off at the dirt track, and we’re going to test him in a truck race to see how he performs.”
Julian never said a word. “That sounds exciting.”
