Logan swallowed harshly as he obeyed. Briefly, his attention fell on the pair of chairs opposite Coach's massive wooden desk. But in the end, he figured it might be better to remain standing. If Coach wanted Logan to sit, he'd ask him to sit, right?
He did not.
With an enormous sigh, Coach Rankin dropped into the plush chair behind his desk. He removed his glasses, ignoring Logan while he cleaned them on the hem of his shirt, frowning as he inspected them in the light.
"Son," he said, finally putting his glasses back on, his eyes dark as they jumped to meet Logan's own. "Out of all the guys on my team, you are the very last one who can afford to be pulling stunts like this."
Fuck
"Sir?" Logan replied.
As if you don't know
Coach watched him evenly. "Drummond and the others said it was your idea."
It was as if the floor dropped away under his feet, Logan's stomach lurching as his face went numb.
"N-no, I — " He swallowed harshly against the knot lodged in his throat. "I mean, I — It was just a joke. I didn't think they'd gothroughwith it."
"You know what'd be funny?" he'd said.
"Soccer's not real football," he'd said. "It's just a lot of guys flapping around on the ground, tripping over their own laces and pretending to be injured."
"They're all a bunch of chickens," he'd said
Drummond had seized on the idea. Whittle drove. Bennet got them in. Rodriguez had known the farm stores put surplus chicks on discount around this time of year, and they'd all chipped in the money. But —
But it'd never have happened if Logan hadn't first made the joke.
"I never thought it'd go this far," Logan admitted.
"Freshman, new to the team, hanging out with a bunch of juniors and seniors… They pressure you?"
"No, sir." Logan just hung his head. "Didn't have to."
Lips pursed, Coach sized Logan up. "Well, can't say you aren't honest. Rocks for brains, maybe, but at least you aren't a coward, too."
He leaned over to open a drawer in his desk, fingers walking over the manila folders inside until he found the one he was looking for. He plucked it from the drawer, laying it flat on the desk where Logan could see it.
It was hard to make out what any of the pages it contained meant, especially upside down. But Logan only had to read the man' face to know it couldn't be anything good.
"Your professors tell me you've missed several of their classes. And that the ones you show up to, you don't seem engaged."
Logan winced.
"You've missed deadlines," Coach continued, moving the papers in the folder around. "And that's assuming you turn in your work at all. Your lab partners say you haven't been pulling your weight on projects — "
"They complained?" Logan asked, shocked. Jerry and Tiff had seemed cool, saying they understood when he had to take off for practice.
"Not as such," Coach frowned, leaning in as he checked something on the top sheet. "They didn't have to. After the assignment was turned in, everyone involved was told to assess their teammates' involvement. It says here you scored a five."
"A five's not good?"
"Not out of ten," Coach answered. "Especially when it looks as ifyoudidn't fill out the mandatory assessment at all."
"Oh," Logan said, shifting. Maybe he should've sat down after all. "I didn't realize. Thought it was — y'know — like, an optional thing."
"Seems to me as if you thinkallyour classes are 'an optional thing.'"
