Page 37 of What We Knew Then
His hand moves across the paper as I sit back and make notes on the reps he did earlier. All I have are unofficial times and his accuracy to look at. I wasn’t that surprised when he made twenty-two of twenty-five shots. It doesn’t give me much to work with in terms of improvement, but I have to remind myself it’s a single data point. This project will have the opportunity for a ton more.
My hypothesis is focused around athletes and visualization. The too-long-didn’t-read version is that athletes who visualize plays and skills can be more efficient, accurate, and successful.
A few minutes have gone by when Lane picks his head up, his damp hair falling into his eyes. “How long should this be?”
Stealing a look at the paper, I see he’s written on over half of it. “As long as you need.”
“Wow. That’s helpful. How could I ever continue without your direction?!”
I lean back on the bench, still pouring over the data points on the clipboard. I don’t even look at him when I say, “Just let me know when you’re done.”
He writes a little more and then puts the pen on the paper, loudly enough for me to hear.
Keeping my eyes down, I say, “Flip the paper over. Second—when you picture yourself skating a breakout, what do you see? Where’s the puck? Where are your teammates?”
He picks the pen back up. “I don’t know, but the bossy statistician is nowhere to be found.”
I roll my eyes. “You agreed to this.”
“Only because your dad asked me,” he pushes back. “Don’t think I’m doing this for you.”
“Trust me, I don’t.”
Ineedawin,but I’m not sure I’ll find one in Professor McCullough’s office. Between classes kicking my ass and my first session with Lane, I’m running on fumes.
After barely getting Lane to complete what I needed, I realized just how hard this is going to be. The constant push and pull. The way we live to get under each other’s skin. I keep circling the same question—is this even worth it? And since I haven’t told Professor about shifting the project to a hockey player, there’s still a small part of me that thinks I could pivot again. Try something else.
Except I haven’t thought of anything even close to workable. And I’m running out of time.
Professor McCullough’s voice cuts through my spiral. “Cora, presenting research isn’t required. Plus, you did it the last two years. Might be time to consider slowing down.”
Slowing down. It lands like failure.
My chest tightens, stretched thin like a rubber band about to snap. I pull in small, careful breaths, ones that won’t give me away, and nod because I don’t trust myself to do anything else.
“I can see what you’re doing, and I wish you wouldn’t.” She leans forward on her desk. “You’re doing a lot. A full course load your senior year, working with the hockey team, teaching classes at the rec center. That’s a lot. More than enough to be proud of.”
Before, I was balancing a relationship with Freddy and working on research. What happened? Did he break something in me I didn’t notice at the time?
And then a quieter thought slips in. Maybe I wasn’t balancing anything. How happy were we, really? We’re not together now, so maybe we weren’t doing a good job to begin with.
Hearing Professor McCullough say this feels like someone is closing a door while my hand is still in the frame.
“Listen, you don’t need to make any decisions right now. But the deadline to submit your framework is coming up, and time is running out. I’ll support you, no matter what you decide.” She smiles at me, trying to soften the panic, but it doesn’t quite help.
There’s no other option. No backup idea waiting to be discovered. It’s this or nothing. And the thought of not doing a project my senior year, paired with the look on my professor’s face, is enough to push me forward headfirst with someone I’m pretty sure can’t stand me.
“Decision made. I’m going to do the same project, just with some hockey players. I already have my first data set to review.” I tip my chin toward the folder sitting in front of me.
Surprise flashes across her face. “Well, that’s wonderful. Why didn’t you say anything?” Her surprise shifts quickly into excitement.
“I was trying to make sure it’s what I wanted to do. Really lean into the decision.” I offer the small lie like it’s the truth.
“Well, perfect. Let’s meet in three weeks to discuss your progress. I’ll need your preliminary proposal and hypothesis to submit to the board then. That good?”
These dates are already written in my planner, they just need some tweaking from basketball to hockey. “That’s perfect.”
“I knew you’d figure it out.” She beams at me, the way she does whenever I bring her something I'm proud of.
