CHAPTER 5
brEVAN
The window in Coach Lemon Frost’s door is painted with a whole lot of pretty flowers. All pinks and purples and yellows. It looks like a sea of wildflowers. It’s a very loud contrast to the colors of the wall, which are painted with the male-male gay pride flag blues, greens, and white.
One of my favorite things about RDU is that everyone is represented. All the walls in the buildings are painted with different flags representing different sexualities, orientations, and lifestyles. When a new flag is embraced by the community, it’s like a scavenger hunt to find the hall first.
I touch one of the flowers and smile before knocking on Coach’s door.
“Come in,” Coach calls.
Coach’s office doesn’t really look like an office at all.
He has a big teal desk with a teal laptop open on it.
There’s a large pink couch with two matching chairs in the corner, a coffee station beside Coach’s desk against the wall, and a big display case with awards, trophies, and honors.
Rumor has it that the two additional doors in his office hide a personal bathroom and a closet!
The windows—yes, he has multiple—overlook the football field in the distance and a green area where kids often gather to study, hang out, toss a ball, or something. It’s bright and sunny, and aside from the really loud colors, it’s comfortable.
“Hello, Brevan,” Coach greets as he sits back.
Coach Lemon Frost is like no one I’ve ever seen before.
He’s petite, wears loud, classically feminine clothing, and is flamboyantly gay.
Nothing that you’d ever imagine in a football coach.
While I can’t see what’s on his legs right now, he’s usually in leggings and has been known to wear a tutu as well.
His shirt doesn’t disappoint—a leather vest, exposing his arms and dipping down his chest.
Appropriate for school? I imagine it doesn’t actually go against the dress code, but it’s not something you’d imagine someone wearing to school.
Except somewhere like RDU, where we’re encouraged to be comfortable as long as it’s not offensive.
The word is in italics in the handbook because ‘offensive’ is subjective to the onlooker.
But like, don’t intentionally try to hurt someone or piss them off, right? Common courtesy.
“Hi, Coach,” I say as I step inside and shut the door. “Thanks for meeting with me.”
“Of course. Is everything all right? Your ankle?”
I smile and glance at my foot. Last season, my ankle was bothering me, and while the athletic trainer, Declan Whitaker, took a lot of time to work with me to prevent further injury, I’m not sure we really came up with the issue.
Wearing the brace during games and practice helped, and then over the summer, when not involved with football camps, I had time to rest it, and my ankle is all healed now. “Yeah, it’s good. Thanks.”
He inclines his head, and I admire the glitter framing his eyes, darker in the corners and smoky above. He’s wearing pink lipstick that matches some of the flowers on his door.
Coach can be… what’s the word people use? Crass? I’ve never seen it, but as I understand it, he treats his team differently from everyone else. He’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever known.
“Good to hear,” Coach says, leaning back in his chair. “You’re heading to Iceland for break, right?”
“Yes, Coach. That’s what I want to talk about.”
“I’ve already cleared you to leave. Everything is set.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not that, but thank you.
No, I just… I didn’t apply to the program.
” Coach’s smile changes to something almost…
amused. I watch him as I continue. “I saw the application, and it’s all my information, but I didn’t fill it out, and I’ve been worried these last few months that I’m going to make a fool of myself because…
I’m just not… I don’t think I’m going to be a good ambassador. ”
“Why? And if you tell me you’re not smart enough, I’m going to make you do laps for the next three hours, Brevan.”
I chew my lip. That’s exactly what I was going to say. I’ve spent my entire life being the sweet, talented football player, but, as my dad so often said, an entire offensive line short of a football team. That’s okay, though. I’ve accepted that. It’s important to know your strengths and weaknesses.
Coach leans forward, placing his folded hands on his desk. His nails are super pretty and match his windows, manicured and painted with flowers. They shine prettily as they catch the sun through the window.
“I submitted your application, Brevan,” he says, and I must stare like I’ve seen a ghost. His smile spreads wide.
“You don’t lack intelligence. You lack confidence in your intelligence.
You’ve heard enough people tell you that you’re not smart that you’ve begun believing it, and yet, that doesn’t stop you from striving to do well in your courses—which you do. ”
I chew my lip as I stare at Coach. I’m still dumbfounded that he’s the one who submitted the application. Then again, he’s the only one who makes sense. Who else would be able to get my transcript? Who else knows enough about me to fill my application out as if I did?
“But… why?” I ask.
He sighs and sits back again, crossing his arms over his chest. “I heard my colleagues talking about the kind of person who would be chosen to represent athletics, and hated all the suggestions they’d come up with, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I have the perfect athletes to represent this school and our department.
When I encouraged the team to apply, I watched you specifically and knew without a doubt that you didn’t consider yourself a contender.
Meanwhile, I knew you were exactly the person for the job. ”
“But I’m… not.”
“You are,” he insists. “You know what? I’m giving you an assignment over break.”
My eyes shoot wide. “Coach, I’m going to be in Iceland. I don’t know if I’ll have time for an assignment. The schedule looks really busy.”
“You’re going to make time,” he says. “I expect you to return with a written statement about why you were chosen for this ambassador position. About why you’re right to represent not just our football team and the athletics department, but the school itself.
You’re going to write it and mean it. So you’d best be thinking about it while you’re in Iceland. ”
How am I going to write that when I don’t believe for a second I’m anyone other than a mistake?
Coach gets up from his desk and comes around. Maybe seeing the panic his words create, he takes me into his arms, hugging me tightly. One of my favorite things about Coach Lemon is that he always knows when his team needs a hug, and he’s not afraid to give hugs.
I close my eyes and try to keep my panic inside.
“It’s okay,” Coach says quietly. “If you need a moment to freak out, you’re safe to do so. It’ll stay between us. I promise.”
He opened the floodgates, and for the next several minutes, I word vomit all my fears about failing the school and letting everyone down. Being an embarrassment and disappointing him, my family, and everyone. Words come out that I don’t consciously know I’m feeling.
Finally, I take a deep breath and bury my face in Coach Lemon’s chest until I can catch my breath. Tears sting my eyes, but you shouldn’t cry on a leather vest, so I don’t let them fall.
Coach hugs me until I’ve gotten myself together enough to pull away. His hands feel comforting on my shoulders. “Look at me, Brevan.”
Embarrassed, I meet his eyes as my cheeks flush. “You’re going to do wonderful things in Iceland. I have full confidence in you. I’m going to let you in on a little secret, too. Are you listening?”
I nod.
“I didn’t have to struggle at all to find faculty willing to write you recommendations.
In fact, I had to pick and choose from a dozen since three was the limit.
Your teammates look up to you in a way I don’t think you realize.
You are a great person, Brevan. A phenomenal athlete and an intelligent man. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“I don’t feel smart,” I admit.
“Why is that?”
“I struggle with every class. I feel like I’m always left behind in conversations. I feel like I have to work twice as hard to understand everything except football.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not smart, Brevan. It’s indicative of a learning disability. Everyone learns differently, and maybe the way you learn isn’t how you’re presented with information in class. Which you know because you go to the study center every day. Failure isn’t an option for you.”
Maybe Coach is right. Maybe it’s my confidence that is the most lacking. I wouldn’t have guessed that. He claps my shoulder and moves back around his teal desk.
“You leave tomorrow, don’t you?”
I nod. “Yes, Coach.”
“Are you all packed?”
“Getting there.”
“You’re going to make me proud. I have every confidence in you, Brevan. And you know why?”
I shake my head.
“Because I know you’ll work hard not to let me down. That’s the kind of person you are. Now go pack so you don’t have to stress as you rush. Get a good night’s sleep. Have fun.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
I feel numb as I leave his office. A little confused. Still entirely dumbfounded that my coach sent in my application.
Most of all, I feel undeserving. I don’t know what to do about it.
My feet carry me back to my dorm, where I’m surprised to find a handful of my friends. Teammates Franklin, Horace, Lane, and Wulfe. And Horace’s girlfriend, Nicole. They’re hanging out with Eddy in the common area when I step inside.
“Hey,” Lane and Nicole greet.
“Where you been?” Franklin asks.
“Sorry. Talking to Coach.” I look at their faces and wonder if I forgot something. “Are we supposed to be doing something right now?”
“No,” Lane says. “We’re here to see you off. You leave tomorrow, right?”
“Yes, but I’ll only be gone for a week. I’ll be back.”
“If you don’t fall in love with a hot Icelandic guy,” Franklin says. “Or girl.”
“Right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I can’t really chat though. I have to pack.”
“That’s okay. We can support you while you’re packing,” Nicole says, and the entire group of them follows me into my room.
My bedroom is plenty big enough for one person but not seven. Eddy joins us too. They keep the path from my small closet, dresser, and bed clear as they cram into the rest of the room to watch me. Not awkward at all.
“But seriously, are you going to fall in love with a foreign hottie?” Franklin asks.
“How can he predict that?” Wulfe asks.
“I’m not going to have time to fall in love,” I assure them. “We’re going to be busy. This isn’t a leisure trip.”
“But you’re still going to have free time, aren’t you?”
I shrug one shoulder as I begin piling clothing into my suitcase. We’ve received several emails over the last four months with details about the trip, suggestions on what to pack, and lots of other things. They’ve been great to read.
One of the things they noted is that I should stick to a single medium suitcase to be checked on the plane and a backpack for a personal item. We’ll be provided with something that we’ll be bringing with us as a carry-on, though I have no idea what that means.
Though it’s nearly spring in Iceland, I’m told the weather might as well still be winter.
I’m supposed to pack for cold weather. The problem is that cold-weather clothing is far bigger and thicker than warm-weather clothing.
Stuffing a week’s worth of warm clothes into a suitcase requires skills I’m not sure I have.
So for now, I stack everything on top to make sure I satisfy the list of required items. I’ll worry about stuffing them into the suitcase once I’m sure I have everything necessary.
“Yes,” I answer eventually. “There’s some free time scheduled in.” I don’t mention the assignment from Coach, though I think I’ll be using my free time to write that paper. He didn’t tell me how long it needs to be. “There’s also some exploring we’ll be doing together.”
“That’s so cool,” Nicole says with a sigh. “I’m jealous.”
Lane gets up with a huff and pushes my clothes to the side. I watch him for a minute as he begins tightly folding all my stuff and fitting it perfectly into the suitcase. After a minute, I say, “You’re going to need to send me a diagram so I can fit it all in on the way home.”
He snorts.
“Do you get to hang out with the students at the other school?” Horace asks.
“Yeah. They’re not on Spring Break that week, so they’ll all be there. We get to see a real week at their school. That should be cool. To see what they do differently.”
“Do they have a football team?” Wulfe asks.
I shrug. “Dunno. I think they have some sports, but I don’t know what they are.”
“This is American football,” Franklin says. “There’s a chance that they only have soccer.”
His words make me flinch, making me question again why I was chosen. Why have a football player when they don’t even have that sport?
After talking to Coach, I decided that there’s one thing I need to keep reminding myself of—they chose me.
They saw something in my Coach-written application and chose me.
That means that no matter what I do, I need to make sure I don’t let them down.
I need to live up to the expectations that someone better suited for this position would be able to achieve easily.
For now, I need to forget the idea that choosing me is a mistake and prove to them they chose the right person. Then again, they don’t doubt that they chose the right person. I doubt that. So maybe I need to prove to myself that they did.
I’m used to struggling to prove myself wrong. No matter how many times I think a class is over my head, I hunker down, get extra help with studying, and prove to myself that I can make it through the class.
I’ll just have to approach this the same way. Maybe I don’t feel like I’m the best candidate for a student ambassador. That means I’m just going to have to prove myself wrong. Prove the people who supported my application and chose me right.
That shouldn’t be too difficult, right? It’s something I do all the time. Just because this is a completely different set of circumstances doesn’t mean I’m going to fail. As with most things in my life, failure isn’t an option.
I take a breath and force all the negative thoughts and voices from my head. There’s no time for that. Tomorrow begins early, and I need to make them proud.