Now some journalist with an agenda has reduced all that work to a hit piece that makes me sound like a monster.
I should hate her.
I do hate her.
But I also respect her balls. Not many people would take on the hockey team. Fewer would do it knowing there'd be backlash.
Lennox Hayes is either brave or stupid.
Probably both.
My phone buzzes again. Another text, this time from an unknown number.
Unknown:Hey Lynch. Nice article. Heard you're pissed. Want some help making that bitch regret it? Chelsea
Chelsea. Tyler's ex. The same girl who tried to sabotage Sebastian Thornhill's relationship last month out of pure spite.
I delete the message without responding.
I'm angry. Furious, even. But I'm not cruel.
At least, I don't want to be.
Then I think about the draft projections, about scouts reading the article and wondering if I'm a liability. About my father's disappointment and Maya's questions and everyone on campus looking at me like I'm exactly what Lennox wrote. I think maybe a little cruelty is justified.
Maybe I need to make her understand that there are consequences to writing hit pieces.
I pull up her schedule again. She has morning practice observation tomorrow at 6 AM, I made sure of that. Early enough that she'll be exhausted. Cold enough in the rink that she'll be uncomfortable.
I text the team group chat:Hayes is observing practice tomorrow. Everyone be on their best behavior. Show her we're not the assholes she thinks we are.
Tyler responds immediately,Or we could show her what happens when you mess with the team.
Me -Best behavior. I'm serious. No hazing, no harassment, no bullshit. We win by being better, not by being worse.
But even as I send it, I'm planning.
Small things. Inconvenient things. Ways to make her life difficult without crossing lines that would get me in trouble.
I'll be late for the interviews. Give her nothing useful. Make her work twice as hard for half the information.
She wants the truth? She'll get it.
Just not the version she's expecting.
And by the time I'm done, Lennox Hayes is going to regret ever writing my name.
***
The next morning, I'm at the rink at 5:30 AM. Practice starts at six. I specifically scheduled it early because I know she works the café shift from six to ten most days.
Let her choose, her job or the interview requirements.
I'm betting she'll choose the interview. She's too stubborn to back down. Sure enough, at 5:55, the rink door opens and Lennox Hayes walks in.
She looks exhausted. Dark circles under her eyes, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, wearing jeans and a band t-shirt under a puffy jacket that's seen better days.
She spots me on the ice and makes her way to the bleachers, pulling out a notebook and recorder.
