Heir Born

6 | Nate

Soccer.

I was not one of those kids whose dad kicked around the soccer ball with them, or took them to games. Or even watched games in the city on the mainland. Sure, I played it with Tristan and Summer's brother Stone Lennox while growing up.

Okay. Stone encouraged us to play since he and his sister spent so much time at Vanderbilt Manor, and I would be shipped off to the Lennoxes' Estate whenever it was inconvenient for me to hang around the house. Somewhere in the mix, Tristan got roped into it because his mother Cooper Stanley Aoki, at the time represented Lennox Vanderbilt Incorporated's Asia partner, Aoki Media Technologies, founded by Tristan's father Hiro Aoki back in Japan.

Back then, Stone was kind of like an older brother to me. And I didn't even know what that was since I was an only child. And since my mother has no known siblings — because Eleanor could literally hide an entire family if she wanted to, I wouldn't even put it past her — and my father's only brother is unmarried with no known offspring. So, no siblings and no cousins in the picture. Very sad life for Nate, I know.

The point I'm trying to get to is, Stone kind of took on that vacant post without my even realising it. It felt like I lost a brother when he died, and the fucked up pain that pierced through me was something I had not bargained for. It sucked that I couldn't even be there for Summer. I can only imagine how shitty life was for her if I felt like my big brother got ripped away from me.

Anyway, that's how I fell in love with soccer. That's how I knew I was good at it. Like, really good.

Before I knew it, I was old enough to play on a squad and dominate. And I dominated. Both at Chaucer Prep and Chaucer House.

At the end of last semester, my team made it to the championship finals. That was to be expected because I'm at the helm of the team this year. Not to brag, but I don't mess around with this sport. It is my love, and my passion. It is like the air that I breathe. Being on the field is like taking on a different life. Allowing myself to be my most skilful yet brutal self. That's where I unleash my full self. No mask. No pretence. Just me. Nate. Or rather, and especially to my boys, Captain, Cap, Captain Van or Cap Van. They suck at creativity, evidently, but at least they keep it respectful.

Everyone calls us Chaucerers. Like sourcerers. Because we're lethal like that on the pitch. We leave everyone, especially our opponents, spellbound. The girls are just a bonus.

At soccer practice we are put through our paces by Coach, the one and only Edward Walker — Chaucer alum and five-time Chaucer House championship coach.

After 45 minutes of warm ups and sprints across the field, he calls the team in. The boys, surprised, all gather in front of him. We all look worse for wear, but somehow the boys maintain some mean and tough-looking demeanours.

Preston, Zach, Liam and I are among the group of players. Tristan is also here. Because he's Summer's friend now, he's not so much part of our crew. But we can still hang sometimes when it's team stuff.

I stand out in my long-sleeved white jersey and white shorts. My gear is its own special colour among the navy blue and white of the home kit the boys are sporting at today's practice. I also have my black armband strapped around my bicep that tells everyone that I'm the captain.

Coach blows his whistle and calls us in for a team huddle. We all jog over to him.

"Boys, that's it for today. We won't be having a full practice session. No crisis like yesterday. I'm just feeling generous."

I can feel how relieved the boys are. Some of them can't help but let out sighs of relief, faint as they are. I'm not surprised though. Coach is like family, so when his personal shit hits the fan, we all feel it.