Chapter 3: Coach Returns

Coach’s storm lasted for more than half a month.

It was all anyone talked about. The rumor mill at Silver Hollow worked overtime—every Snap, every lunch table conversation, every note scribbled on the back of a quiz.

Jake has a knack for reading the weather.

He claimed his grandma’s arthritis could tell when rain was coming, and he swore the way Coach’s left eyebrow twitched meant trouble on the horizon. “Storm’s not over,” he’d say, shaking his head at the gray clouds out the window.

Avery asked him to stay near the gym to keep an eye on things and also to look after my injuries.

He sighed:

“Little Rookie, your bruises heal so fast.”

“Which of us is really tougher? Could it be you and Coach are both strategists and have some hidden tricks?”

“You’re about to make varsity so quickly. Isn’t this a blessing in disguise?”

He tossed me a Gatorade, and I managed a weak grin, trying to hide the ache in my side. If only he knew the half of it.

I broke out in a cold sweat.

It has nothing to do with my instincts—Coach’s influence is just that powerful.

In just one month,

Whatever Coach taught me, it stuck. Suddenly, I was playing like I belonged on varsity.

If I hadn’t faked being more hurt earlier, I could have made varsity outright and scared Jake to death.

I pretended to be mysterious:

“Jake, Coach told me to work harder.”

“You should reflect—is it because you’re not practicing enough and goofing off too much?”

Jake glared in disbelief:

“Did I goof off more than you?”

“Silver Hollow can barely contain you. You’re just short of camping out in Coach’s office.”

He rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh. “You wish, rookie,” he muttered, tossing a towel at my head.

Jake only joined three years before me and is the most talented among us.

He’s been stuck on JV for years after just a short time playing.

Seeing my progress catch up, he said resentfully:

“To be honest, I suspect Coach gave you special treatment in the equipment room.”

My heart jumped violently.

What he’s saying is getting dangerously close to the truth—I want to cover his mouth.

After all, with my pitiful act and injuries, Avery hasn’t let me return to my dorm.

Why?

Isn’t it because Coach hasn’t come down from his office, hasn’t personally said he’ll forgive me, and there’s no certainty I’m not lying?

Avery is thorough; that’s why she won’t let me go.

If Avery or Coach heard what Jake said, wouldn’t I be doomed?

I feigned anger and scolded Jake:

“Jake, I really misjudged you.”

“How can you slander Coach’s fairness toward his players? Doesn’t he treat us all the same?”

“Training, gear, advice, support—has Coach ever shortchanged you?”

“I admit, Coach usually spoils me a bit, but isn’t that because he pities my underdog background?”

“It’s your pettiness that makes you think he’s biased.”

My words came out fast, leaving Jake dumbfounded, his face gradually turning red with shame.

Coach’s reputation is known to all.

Even the benchwarmers would be overjoyed for days just to get one word of advice from him.

Even Avery doesn’t get as much attention as his core players.

He personally trains us few core players, keeping us close.

As long as he’s not in his office, we can all go to the gym to bother him.

As I spoke, tears wouldn’t stop.

Coach has always had our backs. He’s tough, but he’s fair. Or at least, he used to be.

From now on, he and I can only be utterly estranged…oh, now he wants to kick me out.

I cried even more sincerely:

“Coach…is so good, how can you say that about him?”

Coach is perfect, but I can’t enjoy it.

Because I want to stay on the team.

I hugged my knees, crying even harder, heartbroken.

And, anxious.

There’s still so much of Coach’s influence in me, I can’t get rid of it, nor can I use it up.

I have no solution.

That influence is so strong and unmelted; who knows how much more it will push me forward.

If everyone starts thinking like Jake, it’s hard not to suspect something happened between me and Coach…

If it makes Coach suspicious and he checks my record, everything will be exposed.

Jake was at a loss, thinking he made me this sad:

“Little Five, don’t cry.”

“I didn’t mean it. I respect Coach as much as you do. I won’t say that again.”

“Alright?”

He scratched his head, anxious like a monkey.

The more I thought, the more wronged I felt. In fact, I suffered a lot in that equipment room affair.

Although my experience is not even a tenth of Coach’s, for a championship coach, it’s like a meal—once eaten, it’s gone.

But it’s still my innocence.

Jake looked behind me, panicked, his face tense as he explained:

“C-Coach…”

“I didn’t bully Little Five. I was just joking with her, and she suddenly started crying.”

My body stiffened slightly. I hadn’t noticed the storm clouds outside were gradually clearing.

Coach, I don’t know when, was standing behind me.

Jake looked like a kid caught sneaking snacks.

I turned slightly and looked up, seeing Coach silently standing at the top of the stairs.

Like a ghost…

The hem of his white polo was singed, his hair messy and loose—a result of being ravaged by me and the storm.

His polo was streaked with grass stains and sweat, and the whistle on his lanyard gleamed in the dim light. He looked more like a man at the end of a grueling playoff run than a legendary coach.

Being stared at by his dark eyes, a chill ran down my spine.

“C-Coach…”

I was terrified.

How long had he been here?

How much of Jake’s words did he hear? Did he take them to heart? Is he going to check my record?

Crap, my instinct was to turn and run.

But how could I escape? Coach could catch me with a single hand.

The air hung heavy between us, thick with the promise of confrontation. My breath hitched. Coach’s eyes locked on mine. I couldn’t tell if he was about to explode—or finally tell me the truth.