𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 ⋆ 𝕶𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓 𝖉𝖆𝖞

𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

 
          "I-- my aim isn't good enough for offence," she says. "I'm not as quick as you or the new kid."

          "Neil," he reminds her. She nods. "You're right, but I don't care. Can you learn by Friday?"

          Daisy feels dizzy. She reaches out to hold on to the side of the couch for support, uses the other hand to massage her temples. He watches her do this, his vision foggy but not foggy enough to see that something about her has changed. He can't put his finger on what it is.

          Eventually, she says, "No promises. I'll do my best."

          "That's all I ask," he says. They lock eyes for a moment, and he reaches down to pick up the rabbit. He holds it in his hands for a moment, and Daisy thinks about how small it looks in his grip. Then he stands. "Court at seven tomorrow morning."

          "Okay," she says, and he leaves the room, bunny in hand. She scowls after him, but her expression soon eases.

          Daisy Cohen, striker.

          It feels strange in her mouth, but she doesn't so much despise it.

 

═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══

 

          The girl is abysmal on the offence line. This much is certain in the first hour of their practise. Kevin starts her off with drills he learnt with the Ravens, critiquing and correcting her with a cold detachment that she finds she doesn't mind. By midday, she's at least mastered the footwork portion. Her aim is still too wide for his liking, and while she can turn on a dime and moves quicker than he does, she can't control her racquet in the same way.

 
          They spend an hour at lunch time watching a compilation of impossible goals that Kevin brings up on his laptop. Daisy finds herself drawn into the spectacle of it all. She understands Kevin's obsession with utter perfection a little better, watching his eyes trace every movement on screen.

 
          Back on court, Kevin decides that they're going to work on passing. Daisy almost starts insulting him, then realises that she really does need work. It would have made her laugh, had she been able to feel much of anything at all. They pass to each other on rebounds, aiming at corners to send the ball flying wildly in any direction. She almost nails it by the time they leave, and after twelve hours on court, she finds herself throwing up in the bathrooms. But she doesn't feel the misery that normally comes after a training session like this. On the contrary, she feels almost proud. She feels like she's achieving something, like the stagnation of failure has clouded over her for so long that finally learning something new is cracking through her hard shell.

          Tuesday brings more challenges. Kevin forbids her from taking shots on goal during the game, that she's to pass to himself or Neil only. She agrees to this, knows she isn't far along enough to do so. She tells him that she thinks she'll be good for outsmarting backliners because she is a backliner, and Kevin agrees with her. It's one thing to train your entire life for a position, to know every in and out and every trick in the book. It's another thing altogether to train your entire life for a position, and suddenly be thrown into playing the opposite. You know how to outsmart your defence, because you are the defence. Wymack drops by to see them on court together, firing balls at one another with impeccable speed and strength. A fierce, proud smile makes it's way onto his lips, because he finally sees Daisy Cohen pulling herself back together.

          Tuesday night is strange. Daisy returns to her dorm much later than she anticipated, and falls down onto the couch without any dream of moving for the next eight hours. Her muscles burn, her bones ache, but she likes it. She revels in the fact that she's working hard enough to feel something.