Chapter 11
DIANA
The horrifying grade humbles me first thing on Monday morning.
I sink back into my chair, embarrassed by the headstrong belief that I would ace Mellonbaum’s assignment without Kai’s help.
Her critique only makes it worse.
Diana, your ideas are well-articulated. Unfortunately, the positive traits end there.
I bury my face in my hands.
It’s fine. This is just a small, minor assignment. As long as bàba doesn’t find out I failed it, I’ll be fine.
Yet I can’t fight the crippling shame stripping down my self-worth. It stings just as much as the memory of Kai storming off at the party. I can still hear the annoyed rasp in his voice, the hurt and confusion burning in his eyes.
Judging by how you’re treating me, I don’t think I want to know you.
As much as it hurts to do this now, it’s worth it in the end.
Still, my eyes gravitate towards the door throughout the lecture on public art.
“The Pandolfo twins once said, ‘Every city needs art, and art has to be in the middle of the people!’” Mellonbaum recites.
We’re thirty minutes into the lecture, and Kai hasn’t shown up yet.
Did he drop the class to avoid me?
The ache in my heart sharpens into a guilt I can’t ignore. It continues even two weeks later when Kai is still absent from class.
This should be a good thing, right? I can focus again. Kai and I will never have to cross paths now that he’s gone.
But fate has other plans.
When Mellonbaum assigns the groups for a major project, she slides a piece of paper in front of me with Kai’s email written on it.
“Diana, you and Kai will be doing your midterm presentation on the Giants at Granville Island.”
I gawk at the paper. “He’s still in this class?”
“Of course!” Mellonbaum chirps. “He’s simply taking the course online for the month to focus on preparing for the first game of the season.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I shouldn’t be making requests after getting such a horrific grade, but I’m desperate to keep Kai at arm’s length.
“I don’t mean to overstep, Professor. I just don’t think Kai and I should work together. He’ll be too busy with practice to participate.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Your peer staunchly promised me that he will continue putting in effort.” She smiles and tuts her finger. “There’s a good head on that boy. Especially with all those pucks flying at him.”
“But—”
“And his analysis and close examination skills are excellent.” Mellonbaum stares at me pointedly through her cat-eye glasses. “It would be good for you to learn from him, Diana. Might help boost up that miserable grade.”
The second class ends, I storm out of the room, raging with frustration that an arts elective has the audacity to cause this much stress.
“You look stressed.”
I glance over my shoulder. Sophia saunters beside me with her books in hand and her pink Angeline Vivienne purse slung over her shoulder.
I avoid her eyes.
“I’m fine,” I snap.
In the corner of my eye, a sliver of concern flecks across Sophia’s face. But it schools back into that careless, scornful stare she’s known for. “I need the number of that source you interviewed for the disability story last year.”
I snort. “I thought you didn’t need my help?”
Sophia hesitates. This time, her guard slightly falls now that Gregory, Jonathan, and bàba aren’t around.
“Well, I took the initiative to get the source’s contact information from you, so I’m technically helping myself,” she reasons.
I roll my eyes. On any other day, I would’ve told Sophia to figure it out herself. But right now, I lack the willpower to deal with things that aren’t going my way.
I stop in the middle of the hallway and hand her my phone. “Look for it yourself.”
Sophia perks up. Luckily, it only takes her a few seconds to scroll through my contacts and text the number to herself.
“Alright, that’s all.” She hands back my phone. “Thank you.”
“Oh, so you do know how to say thank you.” I smile bitterly. “I thought it was just a myth.”
Sophia scoffs and walks off.
My smile drops when I glance back down at the piece of paper with Kai’s email on it. The stress festering in my stomach grows worse.
Especially when bàba’s secretary calls me to deliver a message on his behalf.
“Ni hao, Huang xiǎojiě.” Hello, Miss Huang. “Your father requests your presence at dinner tonight. Your Uncle Frederik will be joining you.”
KAI
You’ll never make it to the NHL like this.
You’re too damn weak and slow.
They have so many draft picks to choose from. Why would they want a player like you?
My jaw tenses. I keep the puck close as I skate with it towards the orange cone. I circle around it fast, my blades kicking up ice. I skate backwards. I wind around the cone placed on the opposite side. I do this again and again until stark figure eights swirl between the cones.
If you worked harder, people would believe in your performance on the ice.
I grit my teeth, pushing forward and curving sharp around the first cone, drawing the puck with me.
They doubt you because you don’t do enough to hone your skills.
I whirl back around the second cone. My breath trembles, a numbness muddying my head. The puck wriggles uncontrollably against my stick.
Face it. You’re not fucking good enough.
My skates knock into the cone. I stumble and skid back, dropping to the ice.
“Shit!”
My hockey stick clatters to the ice. The fluorescent lights glare down at me, searing my eyes. I slip my hand out of my gloves and run a hand over my sweaty face. The clock on the scoreboard slightly blurs as I do, before I blink back up and watch the neon red numbers shift back into focus.
9:42 p.m.
The minute my strategic management class ended, I came to the Balfur Arena to work on my agility. I’ve been doing this since the fallout in first year because it was the only way to shut out the voices in my head.
But they’re a little louder tonight.
I skate towards the player’s bench to take a swig of water. That’s when I decide to be brave and check my phone for the angry leave-the-rink-and-come-home text from Rowan. But this time, another notification catches my attention.
It’s an email from Diana.
[email protected] Kai, I know I’m not your favorite person at the moment.
But unfortunately, Mellonbaum wants us to work on the midterm project together.
I’ve attached the instructions and rubric down below.
To make sure we can get this done, I’m proposing to work on the bulk of the project while you can focus on the aspects of the presentation.
That way, you can prepare for the game, and we barely need to cross paths.
I roll my eyes and tap on the instructions to skim through the document. My brows furrow, wondering if Diana and I read the same document.
I instantly email her back.
[email protected] Diana, the research and analysis is too much for one person to handle. I’m perfectly fine with giving you a hand in that section of the project.
She responds a minute later.
[email protected] You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.
[email protected] I give you four days until you crack.
[email protected] Only four? How little you think of me.
My fingers tighten on my phone. She’s not even here, yet I can hear her voice as if she is. Baiting me. Testing all the patience in my bones.
I sigh, raking my hand through my hair. As angry as I am, I still feel bad about lashing out at her. I was just so stressed and anxious at being shredded apart by her entire family. But a part of me also knows it doesn’t matter how I act. Someone like Diana Huang will never respect me.
I skate back onto the ice. I drag a puck towards me, nudging it still before shooting it into the net.
If Diana doesn’t want me to help her? Fine. I’m done trying to win her favor.
I grunt, shooting another puck into the net.
After those rumors, my life has never been the same. I’ve had to win back everyone’s faith and respect and simultaneously accept that I can’t win them all back. Diana is just someone I can’t get on my side, and that’s fine.
The HVAC system stirs against my hair and drifts down to my lips. Even with my eyes closed, I still see her. Feel her and her hands smoothening over the collar of my dress shirt at the dinner party.
I shouldn’t even be letting Diana take up my head this much. She just has a hold on me that I can’t shrug off. Every thought I have draws back to her. She’s the poison and the antidote at the same fucking time, and I hate it as much as I ache for it.
This is why you don’t date. This is why hockey and the internship should be your only priorities.
I repeat this to myself over and over. But no matter how much I try to keep Diana out of my head, she crawls right back, tempting me to imagine things I shouldn’t.