Redemption Prep - Samuel Miller Page 0,43
physical ability hasn’t changed?”
“Um, okay.”
“Your jump shot, your sprints, your weights—they’re all tracking consistently. Which means your blockages are psychogenic.”
“Psycho-what?”
“The problem is in your head. Slower reaction times, dismal free-throw percentage—these are problems are mental—a lack of focus—and they’re killing you.”
“They’re not killing me. It’s been a couple off practices.”
Dr. Roux leaned forward. “The rest of your teammates are improving, rapidly. Every other player is showing better metrics. The team—hell, the entire school—has reached an evolution point, with very few exceptions. It’s not enough to just tread water, anymore, Aiden. Failure to progress is failure.”
“But I’m not failing!” Aiden felt himself squeezing the chair. “I’m still the best one out there, by far!”
Dr. Roux sat back, nodding. “I’m sure that’s true. But we need to address the problem of whatever’s affecting you, and quickly. Let’s get back to your teammates.”
Aiden shrugged. “What about them? They’re fine. Annoying, but fine.”
“Have you considered their needs?”
“I’ve scored twenty-eight a game for two years. They should be considering my needs.”
Dr. Roux nodded. “It sounds like you’re having a difficult time empathizing with them.”
“Or they’re having a difficult time empathizing with me,” Aiden snapped back, turning his attention to the window.
Dr. Roux studied the folder for a few more minutes. “Would you like a snack?”
“What?”
“Perhaps a cookie? Some milk?”
Dr. Roux offered Aiden a tray with a small, store-made chocolate chip cookie and a paper cup. He shrugged and took them both, downing the cookie in a single bite, then tossing the milk into the back of his throat. It was thick and warm, dripping into his system, warming his insides from the center. He felt his stomach turn over a few times.
“That tasted weird.” He looked down into the cup.
“Well.” Dr. Roux smiled. “Cow’s milk is meant to provide the fat calves need to grow, far too much for human bodies. But you can’t deny its appeal next to a warm cookie. Let’s get back to the assessment.”
Aiden returned to the window. He’d never noticed how green the lawn was in the daytime, how patterned and strange its natural geometry looked from above. He found himself staring at separate students, wanting to know who they were, where they were going.
“Tell me,” Dr. Roux said. “How are you feeling about Emma?”
“I’m . . . I’m feeling—” Aiden considered it, rolling his shoulders involuntarily, aware of how nice the stretching movement felt underneath his skin. “I miss her. I feel like I’m missing something, without her. I don’t feel like myself when she’s not around.”
Dr. Roux leaned forward, excited. “Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know, I just . . .” In Dr. Roux’s posture, he saw his father for a moment. It freaked him out. He clutched the edges of his chair to anchor himself back in reality.
“Aiden?”
“Uh, I feel like everybody around here sees me as this . . . basketball player guy. Like that’s what I am, and what I’m good for.”
“And how does Emma see you?”
“Like . . .” His eyes drifted back to the window, where his classmates’ movements had become a dance; interconnected and sweeping and beautiful. They weren’t secretive, they weren’t watching him. They were all moving through the world just like he was, trying to get people to like them, trying to find their place, trying to get by. He didn’t see a basketball boy and a theater girl and a science nerd and a plebe. He just saw one person after another. “Like just a person,” he said.
“Just, any person?”
“Any person.”
“And how do you see yourself?”
The people outside bobbed and weaved, in and out and around each other, circling the dirt paths, making room for a new dancer to come wobbling in from the edge of the window, his movements off-balance, but familiar—
He leaned forward. It was Eddy.
Aiden stood up. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“Aiden, these assessments are mandatory, you can’t just walk out—”
“I’m sorry.” He threw his backpack over his shoulder. “I know you have to do your job and I’m making that impossible. But right now, I have to go.”
Dr. Roux stared for a long moment. “Alright, but please journal today.”
Aiden felt like his insides were exploding as he rushed down the stairs, through the P-School Lounge and out onto the back lawn. He pushed his way through a crowded path, parting students with his hands. He wanted to hug people, kiss people, but instead, he pushed past them, feeling their soft jackets and warm skin until Eddy appeared in front of him, disappearing