I couldn’t help but laugh, and Cammie smirked to herself before heading up the stairs.
“Parker?” my mom called from the kitchen.
I’d been hoping to sneak off to my room without her seeing me, but I hadn’t had much luck so far today, why should it change now? With a sigh, I went to find her.
“Why are you home so—” She jumped from her seat when she saw me. “Your nose! What happened?”
She took hold of my jaw and lightly tilted my head to get abetter look. I hated it when my mom fussed, but I didn’t shake her off. I hated worrying her more.
“I’m okay, Mom. Just a little knock at practice. Nothing broken.”
“Why didn’t you call?” She tutted before turning her head toward the living room. “Danny, your son’s injured again.”
“Again?” he replied.
“It’s fine,” I insisted. “I’ve already had Seth’s dad check it out, and he gave me the all clear.”
“You went to see Seth’s dad?” My dad walked into the room. “Don’t tell me I owe him another case of beer.”
“You owe him another case of beer,” I replied. “Sorry.”
My dad winced when he got close enough to see my nose properly. “Catch the wrong end of a stick?”
“Something like that,” I muttered. I didn’t want my dad inspecting it too closely. He might quickly realize this was not a hockey-related injury, but a fist-related one.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about practice?” I said, trying to divert my parents’ attention.
“I’m more concerned about your nose,” Mom said. “You sure it’s okay?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” I said, wriggling free of her grasp. “I promise. You can call Dr. Walker if you don’t believe me.”
That seemed to calm her somewhat, but I had no doubt she’d call Seth’s dad as soon as we were done here.
“So, how was it?” Dad asked. “Did Ray name his captain?”
“Nope,” I muttered. “Coach Ray’s gone.”
“He’s gone?” My dad frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Apparently he needs back surgery,” I explained. “He’s outfor the season. People are saying he might have to retire.”
Mom drew back with surprise, but my dad looked thoughtful. “I’d heard his back was causing him some issues, but I had no idea it was that bad.”
“How awful,” Mom said. “I hope he’s okay. We should send him something. Maybe I’ll bake cookies.”
“He’s already got a bad back, Mom. I don’t think we should give him a bad stomach to go with it.” I loved my mom, but we all knew she was a terrible cook.
She slapped me on the arm, then instantly apologized with another look at my injured nose.
“This is all very sudden,” my dad said, his brow still creased in thought. “The season starts this week. Are they getting a replacement coach?”
“They’ve got one. And you’ll never guess who it is.” I didn’t wait for suggestions. “Wade Foster.”
My parents instantly shared a concerned look, and I wasn’t surprised. They weren’t big fans of Coach Foster either. They’d listened to me rave about the guy for months in the lead-up to his camp three years ago, and then they still had to foot the massive bill after I got kicked out. I’d spent the rest of that summer working at Dad’s garage to help cover the cost. Unlike my brother Reed, I was more of a liability than anything else when it came to cars, and the whole ordeal wasn’t a happy memory for any of us.
“The coach who kicked you out of his camp?” My mom asked the question like she knew the answer but hoped she was wrong. Like perhaps there was another high school hockey coach named Wade Foster, and this was all just anunfortunate coincidence.
“The very same. And apparently he not only remembers me, but he also holds a grudge. I’ll be lucky to ride the bench this year, let alone make captain.”
