I hear a snicker behind me.
And all my good intentions go flying out the window.
Later, Pecan’ll tell me that it was like some kind of fucked-up ballet.
That I almost pulled a pirouette, I spun around that fast.
But Dyers tripped my triggers and was foolish enough to get close to me to witness the aftermath of his prank.
It’s a hat-trick hit for this semester—my arm flies back and collides with his face.
The dull thud soothes the ache in my soul, an ache that’s shaped like Denny.
“WHOA!” Alec shrieks when Derek doesn’t even fight back—he can’t. He slumps against the nearest cubby, holding his busted nose while blood spurts onto his shirt.
Gregg grabs my arm, but I shake him off and head for the coach’s office.
When I see a bunch more of those posters in the corridor on the way, I snatch up every single one that’s been tacked onto the wall.
I swear this must be how the beginning stages of a heart attack feels. My blood pressure is about to blow my head off as I march into the office, finding Coach on the phone.
He frowns when I don’t bother knocking, just slam the sheets of paper on the desk. “Bradley?” He tilts the phone away from his mouth. “What’s going on?”
“Didn’t you see these on the way to your office?”
He scowls. “See what?”
“Look!”
“You morons are always pranking each other.”
“This is no prank. This is the end of the line. You can either keep me on this team or Dyers. I won’t play with him again.”
Coach’s eyes bug, but then his gaze drops to the posters and, into the phone, he mutters, “Wait a minute, Marcy.” He snatches them up then grunts. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way home.” Not waiting for a reply, he peers at me. “You can’t come in here with those kinds of ultimatums, Zach. Not after that stunt you got the team to pull tonight. Hell, I should?—”
“I didn’t do shit. And if you think I can play with my head on straight when the whole school is laughing at my girlfriend because of a prank Dyers pulled, then you’re an idiot.”
“He’s one of our top players,” he hedges.
“No, that’s bullcrap you like to tell him to keep him in line, which is hilarious because he’s out of control. We both know if he’s drafted, he’ll quickly show himself up in youth camp because his stamina is screwed with all the coke he snorts.
“Alec tries to corral him, but he can’t. He’s an asshole. There’s more to the team than what happens on the ice, Coach. You know that as wellas I do, and that asswipe is a toxic piece of trash that fouls everything up.”
“Isn’t this just a practical joke?” he asks weakly.
“If it were, then it’d have been my face he Photoshopped. You think I wouldn’t be able to handle this? It’s nothing. But Denny’s my girl, Coach, and this humiliation is more than she deserves.
“Jesus, they argued in Dopie’s. The crowd was tiny. He’s taken this campus-wide,” I roar. “Worse than that…” I grab my phone and show him that it’s trending on our socials. “You want me to keep on playing for you, want me on board rather than a jumped-up rich kid with an overinflated ego and a coke addiction, then the solution’s simple.”
Because he has nothing more to say that I want to hear, I head for the door, but he calls out, “You need to play. Scouts were?—”
“I’ll be just fine,” I say with a sneer. “I can always switch schools. But you know what that means? Pecan will come with me. You really want to lose both of us? Plus, the rest of the team’s on board. They found out about what happened last year. How Dyers’s playing despite belonging on a sex offenders list?—”
“Nothing was proven.” His mouth tightens at my sneer. “Look, I’ll talk to Derek.”
“No, the damage is done. He’s been an asshole the entire time I’ve played here and whatever hot air you’re spouting up his ass, he’s a two-bit player. But the choice is yours, Coach. Pecan and I have plenty of other options.”
The only reason we’re attending Oakwood is because Denny’s dad was an alumnus.
