Austin
AUSTIN
I ’m bombarded the second I get into the locker room. It’s like the whole team made a plan to show up early and jump down my throat.
Everyone talking at once, voices raised and faces twisted in snarls.
“Woah, calm down, one at a time.”
Hayes steps out of the group, his jaw set. “Something needs to be done about Yale.”
“Why, what’s he done now?”
“He’s not one of us.” Jordan shouts over everyone’s heads.
“He’s on this team, so he’s one of us. I didn’t see anyone complaining when he was buying you all drinks.”
Everyone glares at me, even Gray.
“Listen, I get it, he can be a dick.”
“ Can be?”
“But the roster’s Coach’s decision, I can’t do anything about it.”
“You could talk to Coach,” Hayes says.
I swallow. I don’t want to do that, but I also don’t want to piss off the guys I’ve been on this team for years with.
“Yeah, why doesn’t he just go back to Yale, where he belongs?” Jordan pipes up again.
“Listen, I’ll sort this, just… give me time yeah.”
“Time?” Hayes huffs. “I don’t have time, he took my spot, I’m supposed to be your linemate.”
I put my hand on his arm and make eye-contact. “You are .”
“So fix it.”
Hayes storms to his cubby and the guys follow, only Gray hanging back to change next to me.
“What the fuck was that?” I whisper.
“I’m sorry man, they were pissed, Hayes got to them, what was I supposed to do?”
The door opens and Yale walks in, oblivious to the attempted coup that just took place.
Everyone ignores him and he acts like he hasn’t noticed, throwing his bag down and changing out of his clothes.
I nod to him briefly before looking away.
Out on the ice, Gray at least focuses on passing the puck, communicating, leaving the bullshit in the locker room.
Coach tells us we’ve done a good job and I ask to see him after practise in his office.
“What’s going on?” He asks. “That was a good comeback against Harvard on Saturday.”
“Yes Coach, but… do you really think it’s worth putting Yale… I mean, Huntington, in the first line?”
Coach chuckles. “Yale?” His desk phone starts ringing and he presses a button to make it stop. “What’s the problem? Huntington’s face-off win rate is off the charts, he got a goal and an assist against Harvard, he’s on fire.”
“But what about Hayes?”
“Hayes isn’t playing his best right now.” Coach says. “It’ll do him good to get a taste of what happens when you’re not performing. This isn’t a pee wee league Captain Donoghue, I thought you knew that by now.”
“I do Coach, it’s just… this change has been really bad for team moral.”
“Well I’m trusting you to fix that. I didn’t make a mistake in making you captain, did I ?”
“No Coach!”
He smiles. “I didn’t think so, now, if that was all, I’ll see you at the toy drive on Wednesday.” He gestures to the beeping red light on the phone and the stack of papers sitting beside it. I get the hint and leave him to it.
As I get up, he stops me.
“What are you doing on Thursday?”
“Thursday?”
“Thanksgiving?”
“Oh, nothing. We’ve got a game, so I won’t have time to go home.”
“A couple of the guys are coming to my house for dinner, can I count you in?”
“Course Coach, I’ll be there.”
“Good.”
The phone starts ringing again and he lets me leave.
We’ve set up a table and some plastic containers in the lobby of the rec center and the whole team, including Coach and his assistant coaches, take turns manning it.
A group of familiar-looking girls come up with bags full of toys, the one who steps up to the table first asks me if I remember her.
“Sarah right?”
She beams.
“Yeah, it’s so sweet that you guys are doing this.”
I feel my face flush and hope she doesn’t get the wrong idea.
“We appreciate the donations.”
Yale leans over my shoulder - a grin better suited to board rooms and cocktail parties - and says, “we’ll be collecting toys at the game against Dartmouth too, tell your friends.”
“We will.” Sarah and her friends deposit their gifts into the plastic boxes lined up in front of the table. “See you at the game,” she says.
“Why did you do that?”
“What?”
“Invite her to the game.”
He snorts and puts his feet up on the desk before I swat them down.
“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Drum up business?”
“You might have had to force people to go to your games at Yale, but here, people go on waiting lists to get hockey tickets.”
He ignores me. “She seems like a nice girl.”
“I didn’t say she didn’t.”
“Not my type, obviously.”
My face flushes again and I make a big show of checking my phone.
“Bored?” Yale asks.
“I’m waiting for Prof to post the results for an assignment I handed in last week.”
“It wasn’t for business class was it?”
I roll my eyes. “No, but you should know when your assignments are due. You can’t stay on the team, if you don’t have a ‘C’ grade average.”
“Don’t worry, I’m smart.”
“Humble too.”
He snorts. “Humility’s for losers.”
What a surprise.
When I look over at Hayes’ side of the table, he’s snarling at Yale and I get the urge to move away from him and pretend we’re not talking.
Yale follows my gaze and sighs. “He’s going to have to get over it, it’s not your fault Coach moved me up.”
“You don’t do yourself any favors.”
“What do you mean?”
He’s looking at me with big eyes, all innocent.
“Forget it.”
“No, what?”
“You don’t listen.”
“I’m listening now.” He flutters his eyelashes.
With a sigh I turn in my chair to face him. He’s fixing me with his stupid big eyes. A hint of that arrogant smirk playing in the corners of his lips.
“If you tried a little of that humility you’re so disdainful of, maybe everyone on the team wouldn’t hate you so much.”
I think I see a flicker of emotion rush across his face before he manages to fix his expression. “Everyone?” he asks.
I take a sharp inhale and am about to say something when a voice distracts me.
“Is this where we donate the toys?”
“Uh… yeah, thank you, just put them in one of those boxes down there.”
Practise on Wednesday is supposed to be a gentle warm-up for the scrimmage later against Dartmouth. It’s supposed to be full of the spirit of giving and general good cheer and all that shit. But as soon as the locker room starts to fill up, I can feel the atmosphere building. It’s like an invisible line has been drawn in the room. Yale on one side and everyone else on the other. I’m somewhere in the middle, trying to keep the peace.
We go out onto the ice and take a few practise shots on goal before Coach sets some defense drills, putting Me, Gray and Yale in against Jordan and Hancock.
The forwards skate through the neutral zone and come up against Jordan, Hancock and Olivetti in goal. Gray passes to me and Hancock is on me so I pass to Yale. Jordan checks him into the boards and keeps him pinned while I fly in to retrieve the puck – something Jordan doesn’t even seem to care about. Gray is right behind me and I don’t hear what Yale says, but it pisses Jordan off because he skates back, unpinning him, and pulls his gloves off, squaring up for a fight.
Coach blows the whistle, but Jordan ignores it and shoves Yale back into the boards before pulling his own helmet off.
“Come on then rich boy, show me what you’ve got.”
Yale’s grinning at him and for fucks sake.
I skate in between them, putting a hand to both their chests, though Yale is completely calm.
I don’t want it to seem like I’m on anyone’s side.
Coach comes down onto the ice in his loafers and his nice suit.
“Captain Donoghue, what the hell’s going on here?”
I open my mouth, amazed that I’ve been blamed, but I can see by the look on his face that an excuse is only going to make things worse.
“You two, hit the showers, this is supposed to be a warm-up for a friendly game tonight.” He turns to me as Jordan and Yale head towards the locker room.
“Coach, is it a good idea to send them off together?” I ask.
He turns to me, his face red. “See me in my office.”
Fuck.
Coach tells me to sit down and stays standing behind his desk.
“What the hell happened?”
“Jordan just took it a little too far, I don’t think Yale, I mean-”
“I know it had nothing to do with Huntington. I thought you were supposed to be fixing moral.”
“I-”
“What have you done about it ?”
I swallow. Fuck, I don’t know, nothing?
His face softens and he takes a seat so he’s not looming over me anymore. “You can’t be scared of being disliked if you want to be captain and play in the NHL.”
“I know Coach.”
“I know those guys are your friends, and they should be, but this mentality, it’s beneath you. This is a meritocracy. You don’t win back your spot on the first line through bullying and intimidation, and if you’re captain, you sure as hell don’t condone or ignore it.”
“Yes Coach.”
He sighs and runs a hand over his face and gives me a tired look. “I have high hopes for you, your picture’s going to be on the wall here someday, in an NHL jersey.”
My mouth gets dry as the deadline looms in my mind. What if they decide not to sign me after all? What if I graduate college with no team? No guaranteed future in the NHL? What then? My ma carries on working in the diner until she retires in her sixties? No fucking way.
“I’m sorry Coach,” I say. “I’ll fix this, I won’t let you down.”
He gives me a curt nod. “Good.”