“Oakley, Vanderbene, even Scavinsky graduated from there. Hockey legends. And I’m not too shabby either. I had the most scores on the roster.”
“Not the most scores,” another person says. “You’re under Campbell.”
Price curses loudly again. “Why do I have to go and Campbell gets to stay? The guy’s basically a cripple.”
The word ‘cripple’ echoes in my brain.
A tense, black knot forms in my gut.
Thick and uneasy.
But then I feel someone step up behind me.
I pivot and smile, pretending I have no idea what’s just been said.
Chance McLanely moves forward. He has his duffel swung over his shoulder and his head is slightly lowered as if he doesn’t want to make eye contact with me.
“Hey, Chance.”
McLanely gives me a curt nod, then he hurries past me and into the locker room.
Well, I might as well go in now.
Putting a pep in my step, I grin at the guys in the locker room. “Morning, everybody.”
Grim stares. Guilty expressions. Awkward smiles.
What a party.
My chest tightens, but I keep my tone upbeat. “Hey, Price.”
“This is bull,” Price says again. He slams his locker shut, wrenches his duffel across his shoulder and stomps past the trainees.
As he passes McLanely, the hockey legend steps into his way.
Price screams to a stop and tilts his head up. Veins are popping out of the kid’s neck and his eyes are bulging.
“You’re a good player,” McLanely says. “When you calm down, I hope you look back on your time here and consider it a lesson.”
Price’s fingers tighten on the backpack and he gazes past McLanely to the wall of hockey sticks.
“And here’s a lesson from me personally,” McLanely says. “Instead of dragging other people, you should focus on improving your game.”
Price’s eyes shoot up to the taller man and his nostrils flare.
McLanely waits right there, staring at him. I watch them closely too. Price might be stupid enough to swing on McLanely and then I’ll have no choice but to get involved.
However, it doesn’t come to that. Without another word, Price sidesteps McLanely and shoots out the door.
No one moves or breathes for three full seconds.
McLanely is the first to break the silent spell. He tosses his gear in his locker and hits the showers. Slowly, people return to business as usual, but a strained energy lingers. I notice some of the guys watching me and when I look back, they quickly avert their gazes.
And now I’m a spectacle.
My smile dips.
Clumsily, I wrap my leg, then change out of my clothes and into my hockey gear.
