Andrew runs his hand along one of the old goalie racquets. It's badly chipped, and the netting is flimsy and worn out from years of use. This particular racquet is only kept around because no one felt the need to throw it away, but it's almost never used in real games anymore. He considers grabbing one of Renee's racquets or one of the other goalie's, but he doesn't want to accidentally break them. He'd have no idea how to explain that. He does, however, imagine what it would be like to swing the new racquets, to feel the sturdiness and weight of them.
After stalling for a few more seconds, he finally picks up the older racquet and makes his way to the foxhole court. It takes a bit of finessing, considering Wymack locks the inner walls just as harshly as he does to the locker rooms. But Andrew always manages to surpass the lock system and break in without anyone noticing.
He drops his racquet by the goalie line, then makes his way back over to the cabinets that hold all the older racquets and Exy balls. He pulls out a bucket of Exy balls, along with a small machine that no one other than Renee and the other goalie, Korin, uses.
The machine fires Exy balls in fifty different patterns. Andrew has memorized every pattern by now. The first pattern being left, left, middle, left, right, right, right, middle, left, middle, right. He knows it's useless to practice if he already knows which direction the ball is headed but asking someone to practice with him was out of the question. No one knew he practiced. Hell, no one knew he played Exy at all.
Andrew sets the machine in front of the goal, cranks up the difficulty and speed the highest it will go, and stands in front of the goal with the old racquet in both hands.
He waits, one second, two.
Then begins.
On the rare occasions that Nicky wakes up before Andrew, Andrew is startled awake by the sound of his voice. Maybe not so much the sound, but the volume.
Andrew can hear him laugh in the kitchen all the way from his bed. He glances around the room, trying to get his bearings and his heart to stop beating so fast. After a moment, Andrew slips out of bed, makes sure his armbands are secure, and pulls on a huge sweatshirt.
He beelines for the coffee, filling a mug halfway with coffee and the rest of the way with cream and sugar. He hears Kevin make a noise of disgust, so Andrew flips him off on the way to the couch.
Most days go like this:
In the morning, Kevin watches Exy on his tablet, Nicky talks through a tv show, Aaron pretends to listen, and Andrew reads. Then they all go to class and get back to the dorm midday. Then they all leave for practice. Well, everyone except for Andrew.
On days like today, Andrew considers tagging along. His head is a little noisy and he bets that smacking a few Exy balls across the court would clear it in a second. But doing so would reveal that Andrew does indeed play Exy. Not that he would particularly care if anyone knew.
What he does care about, the only thing he cares about, is that it could potentially change everything. Exy was an outlet that Andrew discovered in juvie. He realized quickly that Exy could be the consistent variable in his life. He could put all his stress, blood, and sweat into it and it would still be waiting for him the next day. Telling Kevin would be like making Exy into a possibility, a 'what if'. It would make Exy into something that Andrew could lose.
So, he chose not to tell Aaron and Nicky when they were both talking about joining the Foxes. He chose not to tell Kevin Day, the man that Andrew had to make promises to in order keep a few others. He chose not to tell Renee Walker, who he met shortly after his brother and cousin joined the team.
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Something Real (Andreil)
FanfictionAndrew Minyard spends most nights practicing Exy. He took up the sport years ago, but has failed to tell his family that he plays Exy at all. One night, Neil Josten stumbles upon Andrew practicing, and wants to make a deal. OR au in which everythin...