“No. No,” Daisy insists shaking her head emphatically. “We hate him. We were blackmailing him. He knew the rules and he broke them and now we screw him. Because he has done nothing but try and screw us and Hank said…”
“Hank? Hank said what?”
“That Tate is stealing our business,” Daisy blurts out. “Hank said he knows about the container home project and he was going to do it himself. Instead of with us.”
“He knows because I told him. He’s not stealing anything,” I say. Tate mentioned he was going to hang out with Hank again the other day, and that Hank knew about us so he must have mentioned the business idea. And as I have the most sickening realization of my life, the buzzer for the end of the second period cuts through the arena. “Daisy. What did you do?”
“Our sponsors for tonight’s game include The Biscuit in the Basket.” Daisy jumps out of her seat and looks at the Jumbotron above the ice where a picture of the Biscuit’s logo is being displayed on top of a close-up of one of their tables filled with food.
The announcer keeps talking, announcing Tito’s Pizzeria as another sponsor and a picture of a fresh-out-of-the-oven pizza flashes up on the screen. Daisy tries to push past me and escape down the aisle but I grab her and won’t let her go. She stares at the screen above like she’s watching a train wreck and then I realize she is…because the announcer starts to speak again. “And our newest sponsors, Manly Maids.”
And there—splashed across the Jumbotron for the entire arena to see—is the picture I snapped of Tate Adler in his underwear holding a feather duster.
Everyone recognizes him. You can hear it in the rumble of gasps, giggles, claps and whistles that erupts. They think it’s a joke. I drop my grip on Daisy’s arm as my eyes find Tate on the bench. He’s staring up at the Jumbotron while his teammates either seem confused or are laughing like the fans. But his coach definitely is not laughing. I want to die.
“Maggie, I didn’t—”
“Don’t talk to me,” I say in a low, growl of a voice. “Just don’t.”
I push my way down the aisle. I have to find Tate after the game, because I know he won’t be finding me.
19
Tate
“She’s out there.”
I look up at Lex’s remorseful face, like it’s somehow his fault Maggie Todd stabbed me in the back—and the heart. I give him a curt nod of thanks. “I’ll go out the back exit.”
“Do you want me to wait for you?”
I shake my head. “No. Thanks.”
He nods and reluctantly turns and leaves me alone in the locker room. I finish drying off from my shower and get dressed, trying not to think about what’s about to happen. Coach asked me not to leave after the game. He didn’t look angry, he looked gravely concerned, which was actually worse. I’m tying up my shoes when I hear someone clear their throat and look up and see Coach Garfunkle standing in the doorway. “Coach is ready to see you.”
“Thanks,” I say and stand up. I feel like I’m a pig going to slaughter. I can’t believe this is happening—and that Maggie would do this.
Coach Garfunkle claps my shoulder as I pass and then hands me a crystal. “Put this in your pocket.”
I look at the hunk of bright green stone he’s pressed into my palm and then back up at him skeptically. “I don’t believe in this stuff, Coach.”
“You don’t have to,” Coach replies and then gives me a small smile. “Think of it this way, you need all the help you can get and this can’t hurt.”
I slip the rock into my pocket, but the dread in my gut doesn’t lighten. If anything, it gets heavier with every step I take toward Coach Keller’s office. And as I see the dean walk out of that office and head down the hall in the opposite direction, the dread is so crushing I almost can’t bring myself to walk into the office. But I do somehow.
Coach Keller looks up from his desk, his face grim, and as I walk toward the chair across from his desk he shakes his head. “No need to sit. You’re not staying. You need to go home.”
“I’m being kicked out of school?” I say.
Oh my God.
The gravity on Keller’s face lightens slightly. “What? No. Not yet. There’s been no final decision on what to do with you, but you’re suspended from the team until the decision is made, so no practice tomorrow and possibly no away game for you later this week.”
Fuck. The dread comes back like a bowling ball rolling through my innards.
Keller sighs loudly. “What the hell were you thinking, Adler?”
“I was thinking my family was behind on mortgage payments and I needed to help,” I say honestly. “And that job was maximum pay and minimum hours, so it didn’t interfere with my classes or rink time.”
