Prologue #2
I stare at him for a moment, wanting to ask more questions, but then I remember we need to get back to playing actual hockey.
“That’s not what really clinched it, though. My decision to join the camp, that is,” Finn admits. “It was when I found out you were going to be teaching our group. Couldn’t pass that up.”
“Flattery’s my favorite word.”
“I know. Coach told us.”
His unfiltered comment makes me snort.
“Damn,” he grimaces. “Was that too sarcastic?”
“Not at all.” I smile. “Damien’s right and so are you.”
“Normally I’m not like this with someone I don’t know.” Finn sighs, his expression guarded again. “I guess that’s my personal problem making me cranky. Anyway, I should probably zip it and get back to my, uh, warmup.”
“Of course.”
He starts to push off.
“But Finn?”
He glances over his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“I hope you can talk stuff out with someone. It’s never good to keep things bottled up.”
Look who’s talking.
You’ve been hiding who you are for years.
Why don’t you listen to your own advice?
Finn offers a final nod and takes off down the ice. I watch his form until someone taps my shoulder, and when I turn around, Damien’s got an expectant look on his face.
“Everything alright?”
“Me? Yeah. Finn? I don’t know. He’s wound tighter than the tape on my stick.”
“Like I told you, family stuff.”
“Bad?”
“It could be.”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly,” Damien replies. “But Finn’s one of the most mature and steadfast players on the team; he’s strong and he has support. Especially Silas, they’re tight. Finn’s gonna be okay.”
I’m curious to ask more, but it’s not my place.
I’m here to mentor Finn, not become his friend.
With that in mind, I head off to join the players and get to work analyzing their passing drills and offering up as many tips as I can.
Then I act as referee and coach for their three-on-three game, stopping the play at times to give them feedback.
All the guys are eager to learn and that’s what makes today so enjoyable.
Turns out, I like being on the other side of the puck; it feels good to share my knowledge and experience.
Still, as the time ticks by and the play gets more intense, I keep a closer eye on Finn.
He pushes hard one shift, closing gaps and angling attackers to the boards like he’s supposed to.
But the next shift he’s a half-step slow, his stick passive, his feet barely moving.
When Dane cuts to the middle with speed, Finn doesn’t challenge him, he lets him blow past.
No surprise, Dane buries it top shelf.
I blow the whistle.
“Time.” I skate toward Finn and keep my tone firm but low.
“Finn, you’re giving Dane too much space.
When a forward has that kind of speed coming at you, you need to close the gap and take away his options.
That means active stick, angle him wide, force the low-percentage shot.
Don’t let him walk right in on your goalie.
Read the play early and scan for threats before they’re on top of you. ”
Finn nods but says nothing in response to my comment, and the longer the group plays, the more frustrated he gets. He works hard, but he’s clearly distracted. I have the urge to pull Finn aside, to tell him to go home, but that’s Damien’s decision, not mine.
“Let’s take a break,” I call out. “Five minutes.”
The players head off to hydrate, and I surreptitiously watch Silas pat Finn’s shoulder. Like Damien said, those two are close, and as they talk, Finn finally lets out a grin. Even though the smile doesn’t reach his eyes, he’s putting on a brave face, and I admire that.
It’s an important reminder that courage isn’t always dramatic, sometimes it’s simply showing up, even when you don’t want to.
Facing the unknown and pushing forward. I’ve always had this mindset when it comes to playing hockey, but I can’t say the same for my personal life.
I’ve protected this secret about my sexuality for years. Maybe it’s time to change that.
Finn
After a short break, I pump myself up.
You’re ready now. You can do this.
We get back to our three-on-three, but a few minutes in and it’s clear I’m wrong. Dane dekes around me again and slams the puck home.
“Yes!” he shouts, pumping his fist in the air.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“That’s 3–1 for Dane’s team!” Sel calls out. “Finn, what did we talk about earlier?”
“Obviously I can’t remember,” I grumble.
My focus is shit and it’s the worst timing ever.
Fucking up in front of Selwin Kirkland, my favorite d-man in the league, has me more than embarrassed.
I’m goddamn pissed at myself, and I rein in the need to slam my stick against the ice.
Being wrapped up in my head means that I’m missing basic shit and screwing up like I’ve never played hockey before.
You can still turn it around.
Coach Banning calls out my name.
Or maybe not.
Pushing off, I slowly skate toward Coach, mentally preparing myself to be dismissed.
“Talk to me, Finn,” Banning says as I draw near. “How’s your mom?”
I sigh, willing my emotions to settle.
“She’s okay. Her spirits, I mean. The results aren’t back yet. The waiting is taking forever.”
The waiting is making me sick with worry.
“I’m sorry. If you need to skip a day of camp, let me know.”
“I’d rather be here,” I admit. “I need to keep busy.”
“It seems like you’re having trouble focusing.”
“I’m having an off day, but I swear it’ll pass. I promise.”
Coach nods.
“Once Kirkland is done, go rest up. Tomorrow will be better.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
We continue our game, but eventually, Dane’s team wins 5–2.
There are more drills, and after, plenty of time to listen to Sel’s evaluation of our performance, individually and as a group.
It leaves me wishing he’d be here longer so I could play for him like I did in that championship game, rather than the shit I offered today.
After we’re done, the school’s dean of athletics appears with a journalist in tow to take pictures and interview us about the hockey camp. I keep my answers brief and force myself to put on a happy face even if I don’t feel like it.
Once the PR stuff is over, we’re dismissed.
Before I head for the locker room, I turn to say thanks and goodbye to Sel, but he’s already talking with Damien, and I don’t want to interrupt.
Instead, I offer them a wave and leave it at that.
Even though I don’t know Sel, I have the urge to tell him more about why my head’s fucked up.
But I don’t, because he’s basically a stranger, so that’d be weird.
He was here to help us with hockey, not listen to our problems. Given how badly I played, Sel probably assumes hockey is my problem…
I had one opportunity to impress my idol and I blew it. It’s doubtful I’ll ever get the chance again.