“He’s cute,” Robbie said with a shrug.
“Okay. You sleep with him.”
“I prefer the feminine variety of partner.”
“Wow,” Bash said. “How unfortunate.”
“That is both rude and heterophobic. You and Adonis seemed to have chemistry,” Robbie said.
“Why? Because we are both gay?”
“No, because you seemed to have chemistry.”
Bash knew Robbie well enough not to trust Robbie’s judgment about chemistry between two respective romantic or sexual partners. He was the guy who thought any girl who looked his way had a crush on him.
“We did not have chemistry,” Bash said, though he didn’t fully believe those words himself. “We’re both just gay.”
“If you say so,” Robbie said. He couldn’t press the issue anymore, because the rest of the team was arriving.
——
Together, Bash and Robbie set up cones on the ice. Once all the players who had joined today’s practice were on the ice, they split into two groups. Bash led one group, working on edge work and skating control, while Robbie took the others to the far side of the ice to work on passing.
Cort was in Bash’s group. Bash was glad the freshman had joined the practice, even if Cort’s attitude during the drills made him dislike the freshman even more. Cort was reckless on the ice, despite his considerable skill. Whenever Bash tried to call out instructions, Cort insisted that he might not be doing it “Bash’s way,” but that he was stillgettingit.
When they stopped for a water break after thirty minutes, Bash conferred with Robbie.
“He is going to make me crazy,” Bash said.
“He reminds me of us as freshmen,” Robbie said, wiping sweat from his face. “He’s eager.”
“He’s an idiot,” Bash countered.
“You’re such a sweet and gentle mentor.”
Bash shot Robbie a look, then shouted instructions to the players. “Switch! Robbie’s group with me, my group with him.”
During the second half of the practice, Bash noticed that Cort was more receptive to Robbie. Robbie joked with him, and Cort responded to that well. He joked back and even did what Robbie asked.
Klootzak, Bash thought.
When they were done, Bash and Robbie showed the players brief recordings of their moves on their phones. They’d propped their phones up on the boards to get footage of the action. There was a lot to praise, but just as much to critique. Robbie was gentler with his critiques, often framing them with compliments, while Bash went straight for the jugular with his feedback.
When it was time to talk to Cort, Cort spoke before Bash could. “I know, I know,” he said. “You’re gonna say that I did a great job.”
“No,” Bash said coolly. “I was going to say that you’re reckless and not a team player. You’re an excellent skater, but you want to be a star, not a member of a team. You will need to fix that.” He jabbed his finger at his phone screen. “See here. Robbie tells you to pass. You don’t pass. You shoot instead.”
“I made the goal.”
“There is no goalie,” Bash said. “And making the goal was not the point. The point was to pass.”
Cort’s jaw clenched.
“Hit the showers, boys,” Robbie said. “Good practice.”
“Why do you say it was good when it was not good?” Bash said, frustrated, when the team had ambled to the locker rooms. Voices from the stands told him that they would have to surrender the ice soon—figure skaters were coming.
“They needed some encouragement,” Robbie said. “You ripped them to shreds.”
