“Yeah. So we spent a lot of time learning about their school, experiencing their culture, and talking about what it might look like to be sibling schools. I made a couple of new friends.”
I’ve heard many people who aren’t associated with football comment about how Coach Lemon Frost is as sour and chilly as his name suggests. But the smile he gives me is soft and kind. Sometimes I wonder what others do to earn themselves interactions other than the ones I have with him.
“Good to hear. Do you have something for me?”
I lean forward and hand him the paper I wrote. Coach accepts it and sets it on his desk. “Very good, Brevan. I’ll readthis later. Tell me how you feel about having been a part of the program.”
“I’m really grateful for the experience. Rainbow Dorset is important to me, though I think it’s important for so many other people with much harsher experiences.”
“Don’t downplay your own struggles. Just because you didn’t have to face hate or bullying because of who you are doesn’t mean your childhood losses, homelessness fears, and worries over food aren’t just as traumatic. No one gets to say who has it worse than everyone else. Everyone is different, and they process every experience differently.”
“Thanks, Coach. I guess… I mean, the people who surrounded me were always on my side. Coming here and now having people support and accept them hits differently for those who didn’t have that before. I know the way my childhood played out is traumatic in its own right, but I always felt loved and supported for who I am, even when I wasn’t the smartest person around. I was still accepted. Hearing the stories of the others in the program felt like I was experiencing secondhand trauma. How can people treat others that way and still look at themselves in the mirror?”
“Indeed,” Coach says.
“My point is, yes, it’s important to me, but I think I’m kind of not the typical student. I think everyone deserves to have a place like RDU, and I’m really grateful to have been involved in this new program and maybe help others understand what our university is about.”
“I know you wrote me a paper on why you deserved to be a part of this, but I want to know the truth. Do you still believe you were chosen by mistake?”
I chew the inside of my lip as I consider his question. I think about my conversations with Auður and Einar. I think aboutchange versus expansion and the exchange program they’re now considering for the fall. I think about Kendrick.
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
Coach’s smile widens. “Tell me why you’re smiling like that, Brevan.”
My eyes widen as I stare at him and immediately try to wipe the smile from my face. Oh damn. Oh no.
Coach Lemon laughs delightedly. “Tell me all about this new person in your life.”
Sighing, I say, “He’s wonderful. The sweetest, smartest, most selfless man I’ve ever met. I can’t tell you about him until after I graduate, but he’s so great, Coach.”
“Good to hear. I’m happy to know you had a good time, met your beau, made some friends, and learned that maybe you’re more deserving than you give yourself credit for. You’re a smart man, Brevan. I know you are. Now you need to believe in yourself.”
I’m not sure I’d go so far as to say I’m smart. Years and years of experience have proven I’m not that smart. But I don’t want to write another paper about myself, so I don’t argue.
“Go enjoy your afternoon. See you for practice tomorrow.”
I get to my feet. “Thanks, Coach.”
The season is long over, having run from August through January, but we continue to practice and play off-season games against other teams in our same division to keep our skills up. It also gives agents and teams more chances to watch us.
Not going to lie, I don’t miss the cold of Iceland. I enjoy stepping outside in nothing but my shorts and tank. There’s no biting wind, the warm sun brushing my skin instead. Yet, as I look around at the beauty of campus, I find I miss the enchanting look of the snow covering everything.
“Brevan!”
I turn around until I find Xile jogging toward me with a big smile. I return it as he runs into me, hugging me.
“Gah, I miss you and Corwin. My roommate is fine, but I miss the easy mornings and our chats.”
“Same. I don’t miss his jarring alarm, though.”
“Oof,” Xile says, laughing and taking a step back. “Not at all. Though I think it scarred me. When mine goes off, there’s an echo of his alarm in my head, and I cringe.”
“It’s had lasting effects for sure.”
“Hey, what’re you doing next Friday?” Xile asks.
“I think that’s when my game is,” I say and pull out my phone to check the calendar. “Yep. Game day.”
