Page 14 of Icarus

“So, which one of you is riding my boy Luca about making me join stuff?” Icarus said immediately, sitting down. He pulled out his sandwich and water bottle.

One of the basketball guys hooted. “Right to the point, huh. You’re not playing any games!”

Akeem cocked his head to the side to appraise Icarus, shifting the vibe with weighted silence.

“Do you know how rare it is to get scouted?” Akeem said. “Especially right before we graduate. I’m not saying you gotta, I’m just saying that if there’s anyone here who can start impressing recruiters immediately it’s you.” He ate a french fry and raised an eyebrow. “It would be rude of me not to try.”

Luca stole a fry off Akeem’s plate, even though somebody had clearly packed his unseasoned chicken, rice, and broccoli with care and consideration for his health.

“Bro, I told you. He doesn’t like sports, he’s just good at them,” Luca griped.

“How could you not like something you’re good at,” Patrick complained. “I don’t get it.”

Icarus grinned. “Anyone can be good at anything. Doesn’t mean I have to do it for my whole life. I start playing, recruiters start watching, and I’m stuck doing a thing I’m not into for what, five, ten years? Fifteen if it’s baseball . . . statistically three if it’s football.”

“No way you’re good at football too,” Patrick groaned. “You’re so small.”

Luca nudged him hard. “Reflexes, man, you should see this kid dodge. And he throws with precision. Not super far, but put him in the right place and he’s golden.”

Icarus scowled.

“Do you spend all of gym just watching me?” he snapped.

Luca looked at him, scandalized. “Yes.”

“I had gym with him sophomore year,” said one of the basketball players that Icarus didn’t recognize. “He did fifty pull-ups during the Presidential Fitness Test. The next closest guy was at like twenty-one.”

Icarus rubbed his hands together under the table, feeling his calluses. Climbing the side of buildings meant that he had to know how to support his own weight enough to swing himself up quietly.

“Who even are you, dude?” Patrick said, clearly frustrated.

“My dad is ex-military,” Icarus lied. “You should be glad you don’t have to do the shit I do at home.”

This got the whole table to laugh.

“Hmm.” Akeem sat forward and steepled his hands. “I respect that, I respect that, I’ll stop pushing. But let me know if you change your mind. We have about three weeks to get you on any team you want before time runs out and things get solid for the year.”

Icarus nodded. “Thanks, man.”

Akeem leaned back. “And let me know if your old man gets out of hand,” he said casually.

Icarus’s blood ran cold. He schooled his face to neutrality and met Akeem’s eyes.

“Fifty pull-ups in two minutes is no joke,” Akeem continued, around another french fry. “We don’t gotta be friends, man, but my dad’s a PD captain. You get tired of what you got going on at home, you come find me.”

Icarus truly didn’t know how to respond to that, so he chewed the last bite of his sandwich for longer than he usually would to think. The rest of the table watched him, including Luca, who seemed nervous for some reason.

“I feel like the belle of the ball,” Icarus joked, finally. “You treat all guests to your table so sweet? Or am I just as pretty as Luca keeps telling me I am?”

Luca covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, don’t do this here.”

The rest of the table laughed again. But Akeem stayed serious, waiting for a real reply.

Icarus nodded. “I got you, man. Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Sorrel

Icarus collapsed into the chair next to Sorrel. He had never been so relieved to be near someone low maintenance in his life. Luca’s friends were nice, but meeting them on their level left Icarus exhausted. Sorrel glanced over at Icarus with his dishwater blue eyes and smiled shyly.