Chapter 5 #2
Stanley has his phone synced to the speaker, which means he’s about to pound some rap music that I’m not in the mood for.
Walsh is already half out of his pads, yelling something across the room at Tomasetti about a TV show.
Tomasetti, our backup goalie, is yelling back.
Patel is in the shower. Two of the freshmen are sitting on the bench, staring at their phones.
Rowan is by his cubby, towel around his neck, talking to Hayes.
I hear Rowan say, “—and then Coach kicked me out of the drill, and I had to do bag skate by myself for ten minutes while everyone watched, so—”
Hayes laughs nervously.
I drop my bag, sit down, and start pulling at my skate laces.
Stanley comes out of the bathroom holding his phone. He looks around the room. I keep my head down.
“Reeve.”
“What?”
“I need your phone. Mine’s on YouTube, so I can’t close the app. I have a vibe to maintain.”
He doesn’t wait for my permission. He walks over and grabs my phone off the top of my bag. I reach for it, but I’m still halfway in my skates.
“What do you need my phone for?” I ask as he looks at the screen.
His face changes. “Madison,” he says, at full volume, “is texting you.”
The room reacts in a wave.
“Madison from last spring?” That’s Tomasetti, from across the room.
“She’s still around?” Walsh, leaning back against his cubby, half a sandwich in his hand from the protein tray.
“She is texting our captain, Walsh. What is the appropriate response?”
“Give him his phone back,” Rowan calls from across the room.
“Et tu, Laurens?”
Percy glares. “Stop saying et tu.”
I am up off the bench. “Stanley. Phone.”
“Are you going to engage?”
“Hell no.”
The room makes a sound. It’s a collective, knowing, half-impressed sound.
“Atta boy,” Stanley says, and hands me the phone. “Captain. Discipline. Restraint. The wisdom of a man with a Stats class to pass.”
I sit back down and get the second skate off.
Stanley’s phone, which was blasting music a second ago, starts ringing through the speaker. Everyone covers their ears and yells at Stanley to answer the damn phone.
He glances at it, then he picks it up. The room feels silent without his music blasting.
“Hey, Pop.” His voice is different. Flatter.
The cadence has changed. The volume has come down by half.
He has turned, automatically, so that his back is to the room, and he is walking toward the back hallway by the equipment cage as he listens.
“Yeah. No, just got off the ice. Yeah. I know.” He disappears around the corner.
Stanley comes back from the back hallway about three minutes later. He walks back into the room and the menace facade is fully back in place, like nothing happened.
“Diner,” he announces. “I am buying. I just remembered I’m rich.”
“You didn’t just remember,” Rowan says. “You forget on purpose so you can remind us all that you’re balling.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that, Laurens.”
“How rich are you anyway?” Walsh asks.
Stanley ignores him. “Diner. Twenty minutes. Reeve, you’re coming. Laurens, you’re coming. Pers, you’re coming.”
“I have class,” Percy says, without looking up.
“Come on, Percy.”
I reply, “I think we all have class. It’s Wednesday.”
Percy says again, “I have class.”
Stanley tells him, “I will leave you alone for one week if you come.”
Percy considers this. “No,” he says.
“One month.”
Percy looks over at him. “Take a picture of me and bring me with you digitally.”
Walsh laughs while Stanley sighs. “Text me what you want. I’ll bring it home for you.”
Tomasetti scoffs, looking over at Sam and Trent. “What the fuck?” He yells over us. “Stan, do you have an extra room at the Hawthorne House? I wanna move in.”
Stanley shakes his head. “No can do, Tomasetti. We’re five and occupied.”
“I’m sitting in Percy’s place. What diner?”
Stanley looks at me and says, “Big D’s.”
I point at him. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
Rowan echoes me.
Big D’s is two blocks from the rink and has been there since 1976.
I know this only because the place has a sign behind the register that says since 1976.
The hostess is a woman named June who has been working the morning shift since I was a freshman.
She sees me come in behind Rowan, points at the booth in the back, and says “Two?” without Camdenking stride.
I look behind us at the crew of hockey players piling in. Stanley is talking their ears off, so Rowan and I take the table for two.
We slide in. June drops two waters on the table. “Know what you’re getting?”
I nod, looking at Rowan. “We have class soon, so it needs to be fast.”
“Eggs?” Rowan says.
“Eggs.” I nod up at June. “I’m getting the country Camdenkfast.”
“Got your order in, boys. Let me go to that wild table over there now.” She taps the table twice and then walks over to Stanley’s table.
The country Camdenkfast at Big D’s is three eggs, four pieces of bacon, two pancakes, hash browns, sausage, and a piece of toast.
Stanley, Blue, and Tomasetti are in a different booth on the other side of the diner with Patel, Trent, and Owens. I can hear Stanley at half volume from over here.
Rowan takes a long pull of water.
“Coach was off today,” he says. “Something’s bothering him.”
I shrug. “He’s stressed about Saturday.”
“He’s not stressed about Saturday, Reeve. The man is fifty-four years old and has been to a national tournament. He is not losing sleep over a Big Ten home opener.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. AD stuff, maybe. He had that meeting yesterday.”
“Mm.”
The eggs arrive faster than they should. June puts them down without saying anything and walks away.
I eat three bites before Rowan says, “How was your tutor session?”
“Fine. She diagnosed my homework in like forty seconds. I’m reading the questions wrong, apparently.”
“That’s annoying.” He keeps eating.
I raise my eyebrows and keep eating. He’s not wrong.
“And you’re getting tutored by her three times a week till November.”
“Twice. Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
He looks up. “Be careful, cap. I noticed you didn’t answer the hot or not question. Ignoring it makes it sound like she’s hot.”
I set my own fork down. “That’s Stanley and his bullshit. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m not,” he replies. He goes back to the country Camdenkfast. I go back to the eggs. June refills our waters.
After a minute, Rowan says, “Jess might come on Saturday.”
“Yeah?” I ask, surprised.
He nods, but there’s no enthusiasm in his eyes. “Yeah.”
“That’s good.”
“I just — yeah. She might come.”
“If you like her, bring her around.” I don’t doubt that his taste is bad. She’s probably a cool girl.
“Maybe.”
We finish. He takes the check before I can. I argue, and then Stanley scolds June for taking Rowan’s card.
“You two out of here?” Stanley asks.
“See you at home, buddy,” Rowan says. “Thanks for the bite.”
“Thanks, Stan. See ya.”
Stanley salutes us, and then we walk out. We drive back to campus in silence, and then before we part ways, Rowan says, “Film tonight.”
I nod. “See you there.”
He goes in one direction. I go the other.
Wednesday goes.
Stats class at ten. I sit in the third row and take notes in the new notebook with my name on the cover, and I circle the words what is the probability in every problem on the board.
Lunch with Stanley and Blue at the dining hall.
Stanley is on a smoothie kick. Blue eats four pieces of pizza. I eat two and a salad.
Film at six. Coach has us watch the first period of Michigan’s exhibition against Bowling Green from last week — Michigan is on our schedule in November and Coach wants us looking at them now.
We watch the same play four times. Coach pauses, points, asks me what I see. I answer. He nods. We move on.
I get home a little after eight.
Stanley is making nachos in the kitchen with Walsh. They’re arguing about whether refried beans count as protein. Blue is on the couch eating a banana. Percy is in the corner armchair, reading.
I drop my bag at the door.
“Reeve,” Stanley says, without looking up. “Nachos in fifteen.”
“Make me a plate,” I say, “I’ll be in my room.”
I go up the stairs and close my door behind me. First thing I do is stare at my schedule on the wall. Then I remember I have that text from Madison, so I open my phone and delete it. I don’t want it sitting in my phone, burning a hole in my conscience.
Stanley plows through my bedroom door and drops a mountain of nachos on my desk.
I chuckle, looking at it. “Thanks, man.”
Stanley nods and then slams the door on the way out. It shakes the entire house. I take a bite of the nachos and nod. It tastes fucking delicious.
I open my binder and grab the extra credit I pleaded for. And while I shove down the nachos, I do the assignment, looking forward to Lucy correcting it tomorrow. The goal is to get nothing wrong.
In the middle of trying to figure out a problem, I stare at the notebook she bought for me. I’m well aware that I’m not special, and she said she buys one for all the students she tutors, but I meant what I said that I want to pay her back.
I think I know just the thing. It’s true what they say about kindness going a long way.