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Quote by Nora Sakavic

“He should tear Wymack's contract into a thousand pieces and leave. Leaving meant living, but Neil's way of living was survival, nothing more. It was new names and new places and never looking back. It was packing up and going as soon as he started to feel settled. This last year, without his mother at his side, it meant being completely alone and adrift. He didn't know if he was ready for that. He didn't know if he was ready to give up Exy again, either. It was the only thing that made him feel real. Wymack's contract was permission to keep playing and a chance to pretend at being normal a little while longer.”

Quote by Nora Sakavic

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The Foxhole Court

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Nora Sakavic

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“Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He didn't want the nicotine, he wanted the acrid smoke that reminded him of his mother. If he inhaled slowly enough, he could almost taste the ghost of gasoline and fire. It was at once revolting and comforting, and it sent a sick shudder down the spine. [...] He glanced up at the sky, but the stars where washed out behind the glare of stadium lights. He wondered - not for the first time - if his mother was looking down at him. He hoped not. She'd beat him to hell and back if she saw him sitting around, moping like this.”

“Why?" Coach Wymack was quiet for a minute. "Did you think I made the team the way it is because I thought it would be a good publicity stunt? It's about second chances, Neil. Second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you." Neil had heard Wymack referred to as an idealistic idiot by more than one person, but it was hard to listen to him and not believe that he was sincere. Neil was torn between incredulity and disdain. Why Wymack set himself up for disappointment time and time again, Neil didn't know. Neil would have given up on the Foxes years ago.”

“He reached over and picked a ball out of the bucket, turning it over and over his fingers. "Court," Neil whispered, then gave himself a violent shake. He squeezed the ball until his fingers ached, mentally retracing his steps backward. [...] He took it one step and one mile and one day at a time because anything else was too much for him to handle in his grief. Neil stared at the court in front of him and swallowed once, twice, against the nausea that was crawling up his throat. This was why Wymack's contract, Kevin's lofty ambitions, and Andrew's words meant nothing in the end. It didn't matter what they offered or promised him. Neil wasn't like them. He was nothing and no one, and he always would be. Court wasn't for people like him. He'd take what he could learn and enjoy it while he could, but this was a dream he'd have to wake up from eventually. Wanting anything more than that would just make it harder to walk away.”

“Mi fai schifo." "Da che pulpito," ribatté Cathy. "Tu sei una puttana tanto quanto me." Quando si volse Dan afferrò l'orlo della sua maglietta con entrambe le mani, se la tolse in un gesto fluido insieme al reggiseno sportivo e s'indicò il petto nudo. "O mio dio, vedi queste? Si chiamano tette. E' questo che mi rende una puttana? Questo?" Dan fece scattare una mano tra di loro e Cathy si mosse sulla sedia, a disagio. "Questo è quello che faccio. Io mi spoglio. Io ballo. Lavoro su un palco cinque notti la settimana. Ballo la lap dance per dei viscidi che sono incapaci di prendere l'iniziativa da soli. Ma non lascio che mi tocchino e riesco comunque a guadagnare abbastanza da permetterci di restare a galla. Vaffanculo! Ho diciassette anni! Sono troppo giovane per farti da madre!" "Nessuno ti ha mai chiesto di farlo..." "Ma io ti ho chiesto di esserlo per me. Grazie per aver fallito in maniera così spettacolare.”

“It didn't matter how much he liked being Neil Josten. He'd stayed here too long as it was. Neil should be used to this by now. He'd spent the last eight years on the run, spinning lie after lie to leave a twisted trail behind him. Twenty-two names stood between him and the truth, and he knew what would happen if anyone finally connected the dots. Signing with a college team meant more than standing still. It meant he'd be stepping into a spotlight. [...] The math was simple, but that didn't make this any easier. That contract was a one-way ticket to a future, something Neil could never have, and he wanted it so badly he ached. For a blinding moment he hated himself for ever trying out for Millport's team. He'd known better than to step on a court. [...] But what else was he supposed to do? [...] This was the only thing he had left that was real. Now that he'd had a taste of it again, he didn't know how to walk away from it.”