Knockout (Gaslight spin-off)

29| Snapshot

I play with the radio until Coach shoots me a death glare, forcing my hand to retreat. The car is so old that there's still a cassette player, and an old pinecone air freshener dangles from the rearview, its scent ingrained into the old, worn seats.

"Ever thought about getting a new car, Chief?"

His eyes flit over, brief but cutting. "Why replace something if it's not broken?"

I don't bother to tell him this is such a dad thing to say; I roll my eyes. "Maybe because you're missing out on amazing technological advancements by living in the past?"

He mutters something incoherent and reverses from his space. For the first five minutes, I sit quietly with my hands in my lap, wondering how to fill the silence or if I should fill it at all. Coach strikes me as the type who likes to carpool in silence, but the awkwardness kills me.

"So, what's the stuff you're donating?" I ask. "I doubt we're gonna fit a heavy bag in here."

He gives me this look as if to say, ya think? I shrug as if maybe he's so old that it hadn't occurred to him that there's no room in this tiny vehicle for a heavy bag.

"Not stuff like that," he says. "It's more memorabilia. Old boxing gloves, keepsakes – that kind of thing. Are you going to yap the whole way?"

I turn to the window again, watching trees pass by. I figured a last-minute field trip would help take my mind off Nico, but with nothing to do except listen to Coach's old music, it's all I can think about. Sighing, I swiftly change the radio station before Coach can bat me away, determined to play something less ancient.

"Hey," he says gruffly. "I liked that song."

"Can't we listen to something from this decade? It sounded like something from the fifties."

"The seventies."

"Same thing," I say, which earns me another narrowed look.

"I can see why your grades are average."

I recline in my seat – or try to – but the car is so old that it gets stuck halfway, leaving me in an uncomfortable, half-upright, half-relaxed state. "Have you checked out GymCon's accounts lately?" I ask. "We've been getting way more engagement. Once I have my fight with Katarina, everyone will want to join."

He nods, but he doesn't believe me. It stings, but I don't take it personally; if anything, it makes me want to try harder. "How's school going, anyway?" he asks. "You haven't had detention in a while, so that's something."

"Hey, you noticed."

Even though he tries to suppress it, he grins. It's one of those fatherly grins, wide and wrinkled but full of affection, the kind my dad gives me.

I smile. "Hey, Coach, if you could retire, where would you go?"

His mouth ticks upward. "I wouldn't retire. Someone has to make sure you kids stay out of trouble."

"Oh, come on," I say, still trying to fix my seat, "think about it. What would you do if you didn't have the gym and had no money restraints? Where would you go?"

He shrugs and pulls to a traffic stop before glancing out the window. His eyes take on this far-off look that tugs at my heart. "I'd take a trip to Barbados."

My eyebrow arches. Of all the places I'd expected him to say, Barbados hadn't crossed my mind. Still, I can imagine him sitting on a beach, wearing his USA coaching hat and sipping a cocktail with an umbrella. He'd be wearing the grumpiest expression as if someone had forced him there against his will, but deep down, he'd love every moment.