Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
NOTHING BUT TROUBLE
TUCKER
Star Cove California, Athletic Department Building
“Come on in, Prescott.”
Coach Harrison barks, and I fall in line like I always do.
A former NHL goalie, Coach Harrison has been my mentor since I tried out for the team my freshman year.
After four years, I should be used to the way he barks every word that comes out of his mouth.
No matter if he’s congratulating the team after a victory, or punishing us with suicide drills or bag skating, the Cove Knights have grown to respect and fear our head coach.
With graduation this week, I’m bound for LA to start my NHL rookie year with the LA Gladiators.
Maybe he has some words of wisdom he wants to pass on to me.
Whatever it is, I hope he makes it quick because we’re celebrating graduation with a huge party at the Gamma house and I promised to go get the kegs since I own a truck.
“Take a seat, son,” Coach orders and my ass hits one of the two chairs facing his desk faster than a puck drop. It doesn’t matter that technically he’s no longer my coach, since I’m graduating. Obeying his orders comes more naturally than breathing.
“How are you doing, Prescott?” He asks.
The question takes me a little by surprise, but I answer it nonetheless.
“Great, Coach. I was just getting ready for a party tonight. Graduation is tomorrow and I’m all packed up.
Summer training camp with the Gladiators doesn’t start until August, and I was planning on moving back home with my parents for a few months.
I’d like to get a summer job since my signing bonus doesn’t kick in until I report to camp.
My sister bartends at Joe’s on the pier, and she promised to speak to her boss to see if he needs a pair of extra hands. ”
A tick in Coach’s jaw causes me to stop talking.
Coach Harrison laces his fingers together in front of him, his hands resting on the mahogany of his desk.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, Tucker, so I’ll just come out and say it.
I’ve received word from the Dean’s office that there was a problem with your credits and you aren’t going to graduate with your class this semester. ”
“Come again?” I scoot forward in my chair, unable to hide the incredulity in my tone. “It’s impossible. I was here on a scholarship and I always maintained the 3.0 GPA required to keep my funding and my eligibility to play hockey.”
Coach Harrison opens a folder on his desk. “According to the paperwork they forwarded to me,” he slides the blue folder to show me the contents. “There are two classes where the grade officially registered was a B, but you actually got a D.”
I read the paperwork in front of me in the hopes that there was a misunderstanding and that everything is fine.
But the reality of what Coach just told me is staring at me in black and white.
“I don’t understand.” I frown. “How is that possible? I would have known if I had gotten a D. You would have known too, since it would have made me ineligible to play.”
The answer is worse than I thought.
“The grades in question were from final exams. So the results would have been posted online rather than given to you in the classroom.”
Coach Harrison is very strict about a lot of things. He runs a tight ship, and he doesn’t tolerate tardiness or less than exemplary conduct from his players. One thing he has never had a problem with, however, is profanity.
“Fuck me.” I sigh, scrubbing my face with a shaky hand.
“This is gonna be fucking embarrassing. Connor and Keene are going to rib me until the end of time, and Luke is going to be so disappointed in me. Without counting my parents. My mom has been cooking for weeks. The extra freezer in the garage is full of food she prepared for the graduation party she’s throwing me tomorrow night.
I’m the first Prescott to graduate college, and she’s invited the whole family.
How am I going to tell them I’m not graduating?
Is there a way I could walk at the ceremony tomorrow and then make up the missing classes online during the summer?
If I apply myself, I could get everything done before I leave for training camp.
If not, I guess I could try to sneak in some studying during the season.
It isn’t ideal, but it would suck not to graduate for just two classes. ”
Coach’s expression remains stern as he drops the other shoe. Or more accurately, he slaps me in the face with it.
“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. You aren’t the only student affected by this situation.
There are a few others in your same shoes, and it’s the same two classes that are affected.
Roman History through Art and History of Economics.
Something like this has never happened before, and it’s unclear what caused this.
At the moment they think there could have been a glitch somewhere in the system that affected grade registration, or there’s another theory on the table that’s way more problematic.
The Dean is opening an internal investigation to look into this incident to establish if there was any wrongdoing by any of the faculty and administrators or by any of the students involved. ”
My frown deepens. “Do they think someone cheated?”
Coach Harrison’s jaw is so tight that I wouldn’t be surprised if all his teeth shattered.
“It’s one of the things they’re looking at, yes.
If they found someone was tampering with the grades, that would mean immediate expulsion from this institution and possible criminal prosecution.
If the person found at fault were to be the recipient of a scholarship, they would also be liable to pay back every cent they have received toward their education.
In case of a full ride scholarship here at Star Cove that would amount to more than half a million dollars. ”
I don’t like the way Coach is looking at me, and I take offense. “Coach, I swear on my mother’s life that I never ever cheated in any of my classes. During my four years here, I studied my ass off and earned every grade.”
The tension in Coach Harrison’s shoulders eases just a little. “That’s what I was hoping to hear, Tucker. I want to let you know that it’s exactly what I told the Dean when he made me aware of this situation.”
I’m grateful to him for sticking his neck out for me. “Thanks, Coach. Fuck, this isn’t the way I was hoping to end the academic year and start my rookie season.”
Another thought hits me right as I’m about to get up from my chair. “Shit. Do you think I have to disclose this to the Gladiators? What if they drop me? I’ve heard of teams dropping rookies for way less than that. If they thought I’m a cheater…”
The look on Coach’s face says more than a thousand words.
I’m so fucked. If I keep this thing quiet—my conscience is clean; I haven’t done anything to my grades.
I wouldn’t even know how to—and they hear anything about it from a different source, they’ll think I lied.
If I inform them that my name is involved in an investigation that has to do with cheating, they might drop me because they don’t want the potential bad press that could come from a potential scandal.
Even if someone else were found guilty, my name would be tarnished in their eyes just by association.
“Is there any way that the investigation could be completed before I report to summer training?”
“No. These things can take months, son. And with summer break about to start, the administration department is gonna have a skeleton crew with a lot of staff on leave.”
I clench my fists. “So I might lose everything I’ve ever worked for because of a stupid glitch or because of someone else’s actions? How is that fair?”
My voice breaks and I’m dangerously close to crying. If I cried in front of my coach, I don’t think my pride would ever recover. Somehow, he doesn’t strike me like the type who thinks that a man is allowed to show emotion.
“Life isn’t fair, Prescott.” Coach deadpans, just on cue.
“Yeah, that’s about right.” I spit out, tasting bitterness on my tongue. “I don’t expect topless girls throwing rose petals in front of me as I walk, but I wish life used at least a little lube before trying to fuck me in the ass.”
To my surprise, the corners of Coach Harrison’s lips curl up in the beginning of a smile. Nice to see that he’s amused by my life going down the shitter.
“You paint quite a vivid picture, Prescott. If hockey doesn’t work out for you, you should try your hand as a writer or a comedian.”
If this were anyone else, I would flip him off. But I know better than to test him.
“Yeah,” I grumble instead. “If my team drops me after I break the news, are you looking for an assistant coach by any chance?”
I wasn’t really expecting that he would offer me a job; but when Coach Harrison shakes his head, I feel rejected anyway. It stings like hell.
“Maybe you don’t need to inform your new team about this issue just yet,” Coach says.
“Grant McGregor, the GM of the Los Angeles Gladiators, is an old buddy of mine. He was my team captain when I was a rookie. He retired two years later, after we won my first Stanley Cup, but we’ve remained close.
I’m his youngest son’s godfather, and he was my best man at my wedding.
After I heard about the issue with your grades, I called him. ”
Hope begins blooming in my chest. “Did you put in a good word with the GM and convince him to ignore any rumors they might hear about me?”
Maybe not everything is lost.
His next words put the final nail in the coffin of my dreams. My life is officially a complete dumpster fire.