“You sneak!” Still, enjoying this side of Callan, I mock, “Why am I glad that you sat next to me in philosophy again?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m glad I did too. Oakwood might have sucked otherwise.”
“You’re a long way from home.” My tone softens. “It must be hard.”
“Mostly, it’s how many people there are.” He rubs his chin. "I can deal with the distance. That’s what vid calls are for. But the noise and—” When Connecticut scores, the boos confirm how noisy it is despite the low-ticket revenues. But he joins in when I hiss my disdain. “—the people are a lot to get used to.”
“You’re not from a city?”
“No. That’s why I figured college here would be neat. Near the border in case Devere decides to run Canadians out of the country,” he drawls, “but still an Ivy League with a hockey team that doesn’t suck too bad. They’re lucky they have some key players or they’d be screwed.”
“I’m telling you they won’t suck at all this year. Now that Zach’s on board, Pecan will live up to his nickname.”
The few remaining kernels of popcorn in his hand tumble to the floor. “He earned the name Pecan fromhockey?”
“There’s something your research didn’t pick up on, huh?” I counter with a wide grin that widens further when he flips me the bird.
“Tell me, oh wise one, how the two are related?”
“He isn’t named for the nut. Pe = Peter. Can = Canard.” I shrug. “Peter Can.Pe - Can.It was this dumb mantra Zach made up when they were Mites. Pecan choked so badly on the ice that his dad was going to pull him from games because it’s not cheap, you know? Especially forgoalies, with all the equipment. And Pecan spent more time terrified than enjoying himself.
“Anyway, he and Zach wanted to stick together so he told me whenever ‘Peter’ froze, I had to scream Pecan. So I did. And here we are.”
“Zach’s not the only one on track for the NHL.” Callan swipes popcorn crumbs off his lap.
“Yeah, for sure. It’ll suck when teams draft them apart. They won’t like playing against each other or being split up. This past year sucked for us all.”
“Huh, you’re really that close?”
“We are. It brings us back to what I was saying earlier. He resents hockey enough that he wants a career, too, and he never wanted it to split us up like it did with his parents.
“He studied at a community college last year and played for the local junior team, all so he could be with his mom. Then, he came back to us.
“Because his dad is who he is, the coach let him be a walk-on and, of course, he’s awesome so that quickly turned intothis.”
“But you said it yourself. NHL teams will draft them apart. And, what about you? You won’t?—”
“I’ll go wherever one of them does.”
His eyes bug. “Seriously?”
“I know it’s dumb, but hell, the big teams are all in cities. It’s not like it’d hurt my career, considering my dad wants me to work for his sports agency.
“If he signs on either Pecan or Zach, then I could be the intermediary for them.”
“Laissez-Faire”by Camden roars in the background when Pecan makes a save.
“You don’t look too happy about the prospect.”
“About the job. Not the fact it’ll keep me in their world. I always hated the idea of life tearing our friendship apart.”
“That’s not why you should pick a job.”
“It’ll be fine. My dad’s paying my way through college on the proviso that I follow him. If I really hate it, then I can always go back to school.”
Lies.
But it’s what I tell myself when I flunk yet another essay.
