“You mean after you used up all of my stick tape and hid my change of clothes as a ‘prank’?” He rolls his eyes.
“I made it up to you later by getting you a Costco-sized box of your favorite protein bars.”
“I guess putting up with your harassment does have its benefits.”
A wave of silence washes over the locker room, and I turn to see a former Westchester legend. A guy I looked up to when he made it to the NHL and won the Stanley Cup. And also felt really bad for when he had to medically retire. Coach Jameson had warned us he was coming by and I couldn’t wait to pick his brain about how to tighten up my slap shot.
“Holy Shit. We got Mason Hayes back in Westchester. You back to see the new golden age of college hockey?” I couldn’t help my shit-eating grin or my momentary lapse in judgment as I threw my arm around this living legend like we are old pals. I’m star stuck and handling this the best I can. “Listen man, any chance you can get me two glass seats to the next Rangersgame? There’s this absolute rocket in my marketing class that I’ve been trying to take out and?—"
“Shut your big mouth Jake before you say something that will get us all skating suicides after practice,” Adam hollers over me, rolling his eyes before nodding at Mason. “Adam Reed, right wing, and team captain.”
“And he never lets us forget it, ,” I quip which earns me a laugh from the rest of the team. Adam ignores me as he continues to get dressed.
Coach Jameson bursts into the room right after, clueing us in as to why Mason’s here. “Alright everyone, listen up. We have some important announcements. As you may know the process of finding a new assistant coach after Coach Whitney retired has been a shit show. Mason will be filling in until we make our final decision.”
Holy shit this is about to be fun.Not only was Mason one of the best players on his team back in the day, he had a killer reputation as a ladies’ man and life of the party at Westchester. Coach Jameson had a stick up his ass and regularly called us out for our ‘work hard, play hard’ mentality. Now that Mason was here, I had a feeling that mentality would be more appreciated. My teammates apparently agreed as cheers echoed throughout the room.
“While I understand all the excitement, I’d like to remind everyone that Mason is here to be a Coach. Andnotyour friend.” I hold in a snort. Yeah, we’ll see about that.
As the locker room starts to clear out for practice, Mason pulls me aside. “Hey Jake let me talk to you for a second.”
He sounds a little serious. Was asking for Rangers tickets too much? “What’s up coach?”
“We need to talk about your PSYCH101 grade. You know the University has a strict policy on benching players that have any active grades lower than a C-. We’re going to have to takeyou out of the next game if you don’t get your grade up.” He crosses his arms over his chest — all business.
Dammit. Coach Jameson had already gotten to him. I was hoping I’d be able to impress Mason with my hockey skills before he learned I was on the brink of being benched. I hated that he already viewed me as a liability for the team. He’s also playing his new hard-ass assistant coach role really well, and it feels incredibly hypocritical. While I understand that he is being forced to follow university policy, from what I heard about Mason’s time on the team, he also dicked around and didn’t take his classes seriously.
My irritation starts to build. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t like this any more than you do,” he confesses. That softened me up a bit. Coach Jameson probably put Mason up to this as his first big task.“Go fix the problem child with the bad grades and even worse attitude.”Not exactly the first impression I wanted to have with one of my heroes. Mason gives me a sheepish look. “But the rules are the rules.”
He just aged himself 10 years with that line. “We’re going up against Bolton and UCONN soon. All the scouts are going to be there. I need to be on that ice. Besides, it’s not even my fault I have a D in that class. The TA took off all these extra points on my assignment and when I tried to ask her to fix it, she just blew me off.” I huff in frustration. A therapist would probably have something to say about how easily the lies roll off my tongue when hockey is threatened.
Mason raises an eyebrow at me. ”C’mon man, be real with me here and I’ll do what I can to help get you out of this.”
I give him a rough recap of my meeting with the TA, editing the story to hide how much of an asshole I was. Storming out of the room and acting like an entitled brat during my conversation with Violet was definitely not something I’m proud of. But I’m in way over my head and beyond desperate tokeep hockey. So whatever I have to do to keep my time on the ice, I will.
I can see Mason debate whether or not to trust me, when he finally concedes. “How about I talk to your TA? Maybe she’d be more understanding of your situation if it came from your coach.”
The heaviness on my shoulders lightens a bit. “You’d honestly be saving my ass. I can send you her office hours and maybe you can drop by?”
“Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I’ll let you know how it goes.” The sound of the whistle signaling the beginning of practice catches our attention. “Why don’t you get your ass on the ice and show me— what did you say earlier? ‘The new golden age of college hockey?’” He rolls his eyes at my previous jab.
I flash a smug grin. “You got it Coach.”
Chapter 3
Eliana
My Google calendar was currently lit up like a Christmas tree. Classes were in red, my lab hours as a research assistant were in purple, and nannying was in blue. Admittedly there wasn’t a ton of open space left for things like eating lunch, watching TV, or sleeping, but that was to be expected. Between a full course load as a psychology and creative writing double major and my jobs, I was spread thin.Verythin. But I loved (most of) the things on my plate. Getting to see the babies I nanny turn into small humans with their own little personalities and opinions always warmed my heart, and being a research assistant satiated my curiosity and perpetual need to problem solve.
I also loved a challenge and was very bad at saying no to people who needed my help. On the outside, I was headstrong and scoffed at any obstacle in my way. On the inside, I was a chronic people pleaser who felt the need to take on too much to make everyone else’s life easier. That was what I had always done. What I felt comfortable doing. What I was good at. Sleep be damned.
I became this people-pleasing provider as soon as there was a vacancy in the family. My dad cut contact with me, my mom, and my sister when I was 13 after finding a new wife with a bank account that could keep his gambling habits funded for as long as his heart desired. It was hard to be sad about him leaving since before he cut contact, it wasn’t like he was touting a #1 Dad cup. Most weeks he was away on business trips — or at least that’s what he told us. He’d send back enough money to keep us out of a community shelter. My mom never resented him for it, or let us see it if she did. She probably felt like she had to be grateful. Though my mom was now a U.S. citizen, the only reason she was able to immigrate to the U.S. was because of him — a marriage that was set up by both of their parents in Iran. Her initial years here were spent learning English and catering to my father’s needs. I wasn’t alive to see the tumultuous first few years of their marriage, but I’ve heard enough to know most nights she went to bed terrified of his temper.
The dining hall starts to flood with the lunch crowd when a calendar reminder pops up on my screen —really, what would I do without it?— prompting me to pack up my bag and head towards the psychology building. Entering Dr. Bethany Coleman’s lab I see Violet, the graduate student who serves as my main mentor and general support system. Violet hired me to work on her projects when I was only a freshman. In addition to getting to work with MRI scanners and super cute, chunky babies, Violet and I bonded over being first generation college students, and women of color. Watching her navigate the very political land of academia was incredibly inspiring and motivating. In many ways Violet was like the older sister I never had, and her kindness towards me was something I would always be grateful for.
“How was your weekend?” Violet asks looking up from her laptop.
