Chapter 1
Jake
Afew weeks ago IthoughtI was fucked. Some Ds on homework assignments never made any parent proud but who the fuck looks at their kid’s report cards in college? Definitely not my parents. My coaches, however, do look at my grades. And they were pissed. Now, staring at this fat F on my PSYCH101 midterm, IknowI’m fucked. My NHL contract was all but signed at this point, but knowing Coach Jameson he’ll bench me for the rest of the season for this major screw up. And without any ice time, I can sure as shit kiss my prospects goodbye.
Which is why I was currently on my way to speak with my teaching assistant to see if there was something she could do. I take a deep breath.You can’t lose hockey because of this Jake. Come hell or high water this grade needs to get fixed.I knock on the door before walking into the office that definitely used to be a broom closet. “Are office hours still going on?”
Violet looks up from her computer and gives me a smile. “Yes! Come on in and feel free to take a seat.” She gestures to the chair across from her. “What can I help you with, Jake?”
Shit. She knew my name. PSYCH101 is a pretty popular lecture with at least 100 students enrolled. If Violet knew your name, it was because you were either a kiss ass or a problem child. I definitely fell in the latter category. “I’ve gotten Ds on the past two homework assignments, and I was wondering if we could maybe figure something out.”
I pull out two crumpled worksheets from my backpack and hand them over to her, hating the embarrassment that comes with having to admit I’m struggling. For the most part I was a solid B- student. If I wanted to, I probably could’ve been an A student, but hockey always comes first and takes up most of my time. Which was why I was here. My hockey eligibility was at risk as my PSYCH101 grade inched closer to a F and I would not spend my senior year on the bench. In previous classes, no one assignment was enough to tank my grade but in this class, 50% of your overall score were these write-ups. And now no matter what I tried — reading the textbook, study groups, online forums— nothing clicked for me. Which was par for the course at this point.
I took this class with the misguided idea that it would no longer make me the dumb jock in my family. So I could finally have something to contribute every time my mom or one of my sisters brought up their research.
After Violet glances over my responses she starts to lecture me about the difference between independent and dependent variables. I tried and failed to focus as my face heated from the shame of not being able to understand one of the most basic topics in the course. My sisters probably learned the difference between independent and dependent variables in middle school, and I still mix them up. The shame amplified my desperate need to get through this conversation as quickly as possible, so I cut her off.
“Coach has really been on my ass lately about my grades,and I was hoping maybe you could just take a second look and bump me up to a C, or even a C+? I know it would probably look shady if I went from a D to a B.”
She blinks at me as if I was speaking a different language. “I’m sorry?”
Grade grubbing isn’t something I’ve ever needed to do, but I know it’s how a lot of my teammates get by. The reality is that hockey players at Westchester are responsible for bringing in a large amount of donations to the school. Plus, our fan base is like 60% faculty, so we can get them free passes for games.
“I know that’s not my finest work, but I’m sure if you read it again, you’ll notice places where you were a little harsh with grading and give me some points back.” I nod back to the papers in her hand, and flash her my patented smirk. One that has a tendency to make girls flush. Flirting to get my grade up isn’t something I’m proud of, but I’m reallyreallydesperate. And Violet and I both know I didn’t earn a C. Which means it’s time to bring out the big guns.
“I’m taking a look at the answer key right now. Unfortunately, I don't see any places where you were mistakenly penalized. I am happy to walk you through these different concepts though, and answer any questions you may have.” Her tone is calm, but firm.
“Are you sure? There’s reallynothingyou can do?” I sprawl my arms out further exposing my Westchester Men’s Ice Hockey shirt as if to say, ‘C’mon miss, cut this poor hockey player a break.’ Subtlety was fully out the window, but I would let any future embarrassment of this moment haunt me in my nightmares. All rational thinking left me when I realized how close I was to being benched for the rest of the season.
“You’re more than welcome to take it up with the professor if you would like. However, I try to be lenient when I grade these assignments and I can’t promise that Dr. Grant will dothe same. You risk lowering your grade by asking her to regrade it.” She hands me back the papers.
This is not going well.The stress and impending doom of losing my whole future starts to weigh down on me and the words that come out of my mouth sound irritated. “C’mon Violet. Can’t you cut me a little slack? I had two big games the night before these assignments were due.”
“Again, any grade changes are going to have to go through Dr. Grant. If you’re worried about your grade in the class, I’m happy to talk to Dr. Grant about coming up with an assignment for you to earn extra credit. We’ve offered that a few times to students in the past and they’ve all been able to recover their grades with the additional points.”
Fuck me.She really wasn’t going to budge. And if all I could muster up on the homework was a D, there’s no chance in hell that I could do the extra credit correctly. I studied like hell for the last midterm and I still managed to fail. Any extra time I dedicate to this class would have to be at the expense of prepping myself for games, and I can’t do that. “I barely have enough time to do the homework as it is.”
I crumple my assignments in my fist and throw them inside my bag next to this week’s unfinished homework assignment. I could feel my frustration start to get the best of me. If I was smart I would just confess about how embarrassed I am about this whole situation and how hard it is for me to ask for help.
Unfortunately, my pride wins and I decided to keep digging myself a grave instead. “Well, if you can’t change my grades, can you at least give me an extension for the next assignment? It’s due the night after our game at Bolton which is honestly just unfair. The whole school is gonna be at that game.”
“We don’t typically grant extensions unless it’s due to extenuating circumstances, and previously scheduled gamesthat you were aware of do not count.” Her lips turn into a frown.
“Whatever, this was clearly a waste of my time.” I wince as the words come out of my mouth, and I rush out of her office not wanting my mouth to get me into any further trouble. It wasn’t her fault I had bit off more than I could chew just to prove a point to myself. Hopefully she wouldn’t hold it against me too much.
Whereas many of my teammates came from generations of hockey players, my family legacy included a long line of groundbreaking researchers. Playing hockey on a professional level starts to pale in comparison when you’re sitting in a room full of people trying to figure out whether your brain’s stress response is a survival mechanism or just your neurons being drama queens. I guess the good news is none of them knew I was even taking this course, which means I didn’t have to admit that I was never going to fit in with my family. That didn’t quite help me out of my current situation though. What a mess.
Chapter 2
Jake
Any day now Coach Jameson is going to pull me aside and read me the riot act. The fact that it hasn’t happened yet puts me on edge as I enter the arena for practice. Around my teammates I’ve acted like my normal cocky self. No one’s the wiser about how rough things have been for me. I didn’t want to scare anyone. Having your alternate captain benched would definitely cause a panic amongst our players, which is not what we needed right now. I needed my teammates to have their sole attention on improving their own game, instead of worrying if I would be playing alongside them.
All of my anxieties fade as I enter the locker room. Hockey is my center of gravity, everything about it keeps me grounded. From the chill of the ice when I first skate out, the rush of scoring, to celebrating with my boys — who are more like brothers to me. Everything made sense in this locker room. In this arena. On the ice. Sometimes hockey felt like theonlything that made sense to me. Women, school, life — all confusing as hell. And I’ll be damned if I let PSYCH101 take that away fromme.
Adam, my co-captain and roommate, gives me a nod as I walk to my locker to get ready for practice. On the outside, we couldn’t be more different. He was an interesting blend of inquisitive and broody. I was the wild child who couldn’t keep my mouth shut and loved having a good time. Our differences balanced us out in a way that made us perfect roommates. Plus, on the ice we were magic together. I’d never been on the same line with someone who could practically read my mind.
From the corner of my eye, I catch two of the freshmen wrestling over a roll of stick tape and I can’t help but be reminded of the first time Adam and I met. I nod my head toward the freshman and nudge Adam. “Remember our first practice together? I ate your last protein bar and you nearly strangled me.” It was the only time I’ve heard Adam raise his voice.
