7. LANE
LANE
I need to get out of this apartment. My alarm goes off and the gray walls could probably choke me if I stare at them for another second.
There’s been an influx of people moving into the building, with eager friends and family here for the transition. Moms cry as they hug their adult kids, siblings banter and bicker even as they leave their brother or sister behind, and I can’t relate to any of this.
I was thirteen when I moved out. That’s the day my mom bought booze instead of food for probably the tenth day in a row. She was on some sort of a bender and I was legitimately starving. I went to the only place I knew: Oliver’s.
It was my first year of travel hockey, and I’m pretty sure the only reason I got my mom to say yes—and write the check—was because she was drunk. She never would’ve spent that kind of money on me otherwise.
Luckily, I was a natural on the ice. So when I asked Coach Knight about helping me find a ride to our travel games, he offered to take me. Somewhere along the way, it turned into an unspoken rule—that I’d ride with Oliver, the only friend I’d made, and his dad… who just happened to be the coach.
The first time I showed up, I had my hockey gear, my school backpack beat to shit, and a duffle bag stuffed with the only clothes that still fit me. The Knights didn’t hesitate. They just took me in.
I’ll never forget the way Tina, Coach’s wife, looked at me when I showed up in their doorway, damn near passing out from not eating. Her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t say a word. Just pulled me into a hug and called for her husband.
That was it. I was still Lane Maxwell, but I may as well have been Lane Knight. The Knights took me in like I was theirs, even though they didn’t have to. Coach could've kept his distance. Could've decided my problems weren't his responsibility. But he didn't. He treated me like I was worth saving.
There were meetings after that. Adults asking questions. Social workers. School counselors. More paperwork than I understood at twelve years old. All I really knew was that every time someone asked where I wanted to be, my answer was the same.
With the Knights.
Somehow, that ended up being enough.
Before long, Oliver and I were basically brothers. We did everything together.
Now it’s over. They’re back in Ohio, and I’m in Michigan. I’m not playing with Oliver anymore. I’m playing against him our senior year. Never saw that coming. Neither of us did.
All these happy families moving their kids into shiny apartments? I’m fucking over it.
I need to practice. To get on the ice and push until my body gives out. The second I step into the facility, something in me settles. Like this is where I belong.
But something’s off.
“What the fuck is this?” I look at a whiteboard with envelopes taped to it, each with their own number. I knew we were supposed to meet in the locker room today to go over the workout, but guys came in, saw these, and took off.
Leo blows past me, practically dragging Noah with him. “Team scavenger hunt. Grab a partner and an envelope. Don’t be last!” he calls over his shoulder, already halfway down the hall.
And that’s it. No one else looks at me. No one explains anything.
Obviously, everyone knew this was coming. Everyone except me. This certainly feels like new guy treatment, with a side of “you came from the team we hate.”
Before I can even process what’s happening, everyone’s paired off and gone. I’m left standing there, picking up the last envelope.
I glance around at the empty space. Guess I either do this alone or say fuck it and don’t do it at all.
I’m tearing the envelope open as I head out of the locker room when someone jogs up beside me.
Cora. Or Lee. Depends who she’s decided to be today.
Her black leggings hugged her thighs and curved over her hips, and I fucking hate them. Hate what they do to my head. Hate that they make me think about that night. About the skin I know is underneath.
“Shit,” she groans, glancing down at her shoes. “I’m late.”
When I don’t respond, she plants a hand on her hip, shifting her weight. She points to the envelope still in my hand. “What are you waiting for? Open it.” Her voice cuts clean through whatever’s sitting between us. “We have to start.”
We? Hard pass.
“We’re not doing anything. You can do your own…” I trail off, not even sure what to call it.
“Envelope?” Cora tips her chin and lets out a short laugh. “As you can see, there aren’t any others for me to grab. It’s set up for pairs. Team members and support staff. Like me.”
“Like you.” It comes out sharper than I mean it to.
She rolls her eyes. “You need me. You won’t get any of the clues since you’re so new to campus. If you want to finish without being last, I’m your only shot.”
“What if I don’t do it at all?”
“Then maybe you should just give away your roster spot. The team’s never going to respect you.
” She turns and starts walking, and god damn it, I follow.
“It’s basically sacred to them. They’ve done this campus scavenger hunt the last weekend before classes start for as long as anyone can remember.
No one even knows which team started it. It’s just… tradition.”
I can’t tell if I hate or love the idea. Deep down, it feels like a deep tie to all the players, past this team and into future ones. Bet I'd like it better if I weren’t stuck with a fucking extra and someone would’ve given me a heads up.
“You need me,” she insists, arms crossed, feet planted in front of the doors.
“And who are you today? Cora? Lee? Trying out a new personality?” I don’t look at her as I rip open the envelope.
She exhales. “You know it’s Cora. And why don’t you get over yourself?” She leans in, reading the paper upside down. Then she looks at me expectantly, tipping her chin forward like I’m supposed to say something. “Do you have any idea where this is?”
The clue might as well be in another language. I’ve got nothing. No idea where to even start.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought. Let’s go.” She takes off toward the center of campus.
I fall in step beside her. We don’t say a word. Good.
But if the guys included her, she’s not going anywhere. She’ll be part of my last season somehow. Coexisting will become just another survival skill.
We make it to the heart of campus. There’s a fountain that I’ve heard people call Little Lake and it seems like a popular spot.
A deep stone walkway outlines the fountain, with a row of benches outside of that.
Today, people sit on the edge, some lying back and soaking in what could be one of the last nice summer days.
Classes are starting Monday; the end of August is hazy and warm.
Cora doesn’t say a word before she starts looking for a specific bench, one that she counts from the center. She crouches down, searching for something, and then I hear the sound of tape ripping.
There she is with a clue. It’s the same type of envelope, but it shows our starting number and a small two in the lower left corner. Immediately, she opens it and reads what’s next. It’s not until I start to read over her shoulder that she throws it in a trash can a few feet away.
“What are you doing?” I huff.
“I know where the next clue is.” She’s already moving, walking fast. “You don’t want to be last.”
“And if you are?” I don’t even know why I push, but here we are.
“If you’re last, I'm last, and that’s a hell no for me. So, why don’t you get your ass moving and let me try to catch up? You’ll notice there weren’t any other envelopes around. We’re still behind.”
Cora doesn’t wait for me to respond or do anything. Instead, she starts to run—not a jog, but a legit run. I follow her–what the fuck else am I supposed to do?
And then it hits me, like a punch to the face.
If this were something we did at my old team, I’d be with Oliver.
Best friends would typically pair together for some shit like this.
But we haven’t talked since everything happened.
Rage fills me, but I know there’s a bit of sadness mixed in.
He was my go-to, ever since we were kids, and now it’s nothing.
I’ll take Cora’s word for it and follow her to wherever the fuck we’re supposed to be going, because I have no other option.