“Hey Coach Garfunkle,” I say as he stands and starts to walk around his desk. I hope he isn’t going to chastise me too.
“I told Coach K not to go too hard on you.,” Coach Garfunkel says in a stage whisper as he comes to a stop beside me. “Told him I’ve been sensing your chi is off.”
I blink. Magnus Garfunkle played college hockey right here in Vermont but was never drafted. On our team website it says he has a degree in sports management but what it doesn’t say, but he will be sure to tell you, is he also has certificates in transcendental meditation, Buddhist theory and Reiki. As if that wasn’t quirky enough, he’s short and squat and mostly bald so he kind of actually looks like a Buddha.
“My what?” I mumble back, confused.
“Your chi. You know, life force. Energy. Spirit.” Garfunkle waves his hands around in front of me like he’s clearing smoke from the air. “It’s been off ever since you got back from summer break. That can mess with everything from your ability to meet deadlines to your sleep patterns to your performance on the ice.”
“And you told Coach K this?” I ask and he nods emphatically.
“He’ll go easy on you. Meanwhile, here.” Garfunkle pulls a leather rope out of his pocket and shoves it at me. There is a crystal hanging from it. “This is rainbow moonstone and it will clear the bad energy invading your chi. Wear it around your neck and hang it by your bed when you sleep.”
“Uh…okay. Sure thing,” I say because I don’t want to continue this conversation. I loop the rope over my neck and tuck it in under my shirt so no one sees it.
Coach slaps me on my shoulder appreciatively. “Keep it close to your skin, good idea.”
“Thanks for this. See you later Coach,” I say not because I believe in any of this new age crap, but I just don’t want to keep Coach Keller waiting any longer.
When I rap on his open door, Coach Keller is sitting behind his desk and I can tell by the expression on his face he heard the whole exchange with his new age assistant.
“Sit down. Shut the door,” Keller commands and I do exactly that.
When I look back up at him he’s frowning. “I’m going to say this just once. I don’t want you starting the season the way you’re starting the season. Late, lagging a little on drills, not quite as focused as you should be.”
“I don’t want to start the season like this either, Coach,” I say and try not to let the frustration in me bubble up to my face where he will see it. “I’m going to try harder.”
“Good.” He nods and looks me in the eye again, his face stone. “Now that Garfunkle is taking care of your chi is there anything else I can do? I think my wife has a quartz paperweight I can lend you.”
He isn’t smiling in the least as he says that and for a terrifying second I think he’s serious but then he grins. The appearance of Coach Keller’s sense of humor is as rare a sighting as Big Foot, so I’m thrown for a loop as he chuckles at his own joke. But I find myself smiling. “I don’t need more crystals, sir, I need a winning lottery ticket.”
“What?” Keller’s smile evaporates and he’s back to his resting-stern-face.
“Nothing. I’m kidding. I just…family stuff,” I mutter and clear my throat. “But I swear I will not be late again. I’m dedicated to this team, sir. I swear.”
“Working on your farm didn’t prove to be a problem last year,” Keller reminds me. “And it can’t become a problem this year.”
“It won’t be. I promise.”
He doesn’t look all that assured but then again he never does. He barely cracked a smile when we made it to the semi-finals last year. I stand up as he turns his attention back to his practice notes. I head out into the hall and out of the arena. The day is bright and warm, not a cloud in the sky, which makes my dark mood even more obvious. Cooper is leaning up against the side of my truck as I approach. He’s my partner on D almost every shift I’m on the ice and we’re good friends off the ice too. “Hey sunshine.”
He’s being sarcastic so I give him a sarcastic smile in return. He pushes off the truck as I approach. “Need a lift somewhere?’
“Nah. Was actually making sure you knew about the party tonight,” he says and pulls his sunglasses down off the top of his blond head to cover his eyes. “Big one at Delta Phi Epsilon. We’re all going.”
“Awesome,” I reply and try to mean it.
“So you joining or bailing like you did last night?” Cooper wants to know and I frown.
“Technically I didn’t bail last night. I never said I was going,” I remind him.
Cooper rolls his eyes. He just wants to have fun. I wish I was him. “Anyway, you coming or what? It’ll be fun. Do you know what fun is?”
“I remember fun…vaguely.” My phone starts ringing from my back pocket and I pull it out.
“Be there, Adler,” Coop says and gives me a friendly shove as he turns and walks away, but I barely acknowledge him as I stare at the number on the screen. It’s Vickie. Ugh.
I know Vickie too well to send her to voicemail, even though I really want to. Another guy who works for her told me he sent her to voicemail one too many times and she wouldn’t send him out on jobs for three months. So I sigh and hit answer. “Hey Vickie.”
