Page 150 of Vexatious Queen

“No, it’s not a conspiracy to get you to flip on your father. But maybe you should open your eyes and examine the things we are telling you. He has a lot of dark secrets that have either been kept hidden or twisted to his own benefit, and the longer you take to realize this, the more likely it is that you’ll get caught in the crossfire. And trust me, karma is coming for him,” I said as we pulled off the freeway.

The training center was halfway between Wayward and Portland. That was the other thing Ren had organized. She sat down with Dean Henry and sorted out my classes so that I could leave early or arrive late on the days I had training. Then, she even went so far as to pick dates for makeup tests and exams. She was a miracle worker.

“Did he seriously help Zigzag? Don’t feed me any crap, just tell me straight up,” Sabastian said.

“Yes, he did. I’m telling you this in confidence because I just found out, and I don’t even know what it means or how deep it goes,” I said.

This could either backfire or get Sabastian to help us.

Our destination was up ahead. Flags lined the parking lot, including one with five rings that announced its affiliation. The building itself was massive, and for what seemed like the first time, I was genuinely nervous. Not about competing but letting down myself and everyone who helped get me here. I pulled into a parking spot and stared up at the gray walls and massive windows. I was here. I was actually fucking here.

“Are you getting out or are you planning to sit here all day,” Sabastian asked, opening his door.

Don’t punch him in the face. Don’t punch him in the face. Don’t punch him in the face.

Sabastian climbed out and slammed my truck door. Okay, maybe just one punch to the face. I grabbed my bag from the back and met him on the sidewalk.

We walked inside with Sabastian leading the way. He stopped at the entrance to the men’s locker room and pointed to a set of doors further down the hall.

“If you want to talk to Coach first, he’ll be in there,” Sabastian said, and then disappeared to change.

Sure enough, Coach was sitting at a desk furiously tapping on a tablet. I knocked, and he waved me in without looking up.

“Yeah, what is it?”

Pulling out my signed acceptance letter, I set it down beside him.

“Sorry, I’m late. Needed to get a few things organized first.”

Coach Richards slowly looked up at me.

“Who says I haven’t already replaced you on the team?”

“Sabastian.”

He snorted and crossed his arms.

“I was holding out hope that you would show up, but my patience was waning. So, are you saying that you can commit to the team now?”

“I am.”

“And what school are you attending next year?”

“I…uh…I haven’t decided yet,” I said, not realizing that it would even be a requirement.

“Little late, don’t you think?”

I crossed my arms. “Apparently, it’s my thing.”

Richards picked up the paper and looked it over.

“As long as you’re not late to the starting blocks.”

“Never, Coach. I want this.”

He stood and looked me in the eyes.

“Yes, but do you really want it,” he asked, emphasizing the words.