The response comes within a minute.
I understand. Mr. Brooks is known to be somewhat flexible, and he has offered extra credit in the past. I’m looking at his calendar, and his prep time is tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM. He said he can meet with us then.
10:00 AM.
The same time as tryouts.
I freeze, thumb hovering over the screen. My gaze cuts to Noah, who is still happily drumming away. He’s never happy. He’s been at the peak of his teenage-grumpy years, not to mention he suffers from anxiety that at times is debilitating. I haven’t seen him like this in a long time.
Now what do I do?
I stare at the screen as my pulse hammers in my ears. I could make up an excuse tomorrow. Maybe I could tell themwe are coming, but then my car didn’t start. That way we aren’t purposely late, and hopefully Mr. Brooks still sees us.
I hate to lie.
But this is Noah’s one shot to play hockey.
But can he really get this shot if he loses his eligibility to play high school hockey? There’s only one more game left in their season. If he doesn’t get a chance to play after that, what is the point?
I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the seat as stress swirls around my head. Noah isn’t the smartest kid. He’s clearly intelligent in some things, but I knew since he was a little kid he had a bit of a learning disability that made it hard for him to do math. Sure, he’s behind what teachers consider average, but I’m proud he’s passing.
Noah chuckles beside me with unfiltered joy. “Did you see me on that last drill? I was flying.”
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice catching with my eyelids clenched. This is where I miss having a co-parent. Noah’s dad was the love of my life. God had other plans for us, taking him when Noah was just a toddler. I hate to think about all the ways we missed out. It’s times like these where it would be nice to have someone else I can pull into help. If anything, he could go to the school meeting with Noah, while I ran down to the park to try to explain our situation to Bill.
My head tips to the side as I rewind my thought:
I wonder if I could speak to Bill?
I mean, I know who he is now, and he seemsniceenough.
Sure, he has hundreds of guys all fighting for the same spot, but he must see something in Noah. There’s no way I can possibly be any more embarrassing than I was today.
No.
There’s no way that will work.
If I don’t show up to school, his math teacher will be upset.
I tip my head the other way, arguing with myself, but he’s likely to be upset anyway, and Noah can handle himself.
If I don’t try to explain it to Bill, then Noah misses his shot, and the worst Bill can say is no.
I’m not afraid of being told no. I’ve heard it many times.
I tip my head back the other way, pondering how to explain this all to Noah. He’s so insanely happy. At least for the moment, I can’t take this from him. I’ll tell him in the morning after he has a good night’s rest. He’ll need all the sleep he can get.
“Hey,” he says, cutting into my thoughts. “Is everything okay? You’re quiet.”
“Everything is great.” I force a smile, my voice catching in my throat. “I’m just proud of you and enjoying how happy you are.”
five
Bill
I stand firm in my spot at the far end of the rink, clipboard in hand, headset buzzing with the chatter on the other side. The air’s crisp, but the sun shines through clouds in patches, glintinga sheen off the ice. Even with the sunshine, it’s not any warmer, and I pull my coat tighter.
“We’re all set,” Coach’s voice crackles in my ear. “The first group of guys is hitting the ice.”
