My nose is right up to the door. Feeling silly, I knock, hoping Christos or Bekken hasn’t noticed me creeping around.
Christos shouts, “Doors open!”
I step inside to find Bekken sitting across from Christos’ desk with his legs splayed. He turns around in his chair, looking at me with a bored expression. Christos comes out from behind his desk, holding a familiar notebook.
“You got here fast.”
I take the notebook but hesitate to leave. This is my first time in the coaches’ office since it became Christos’ domain. The wall is covered with pale imprints from the old team photos that once hung there. Ghosts of a better Dingbat team. There is a photo of the current Dingbat’s team and a team I don’t recognize.
I’m drawn to the unfamiliar photo, everyone wearing bright yellow uniforms with blue accents.
“That you?” I point at the white Minotaur at the back of the team. Next to him is a grey skinned figure with wild red hair, sticking up more than the old wig I used for my 80s rocker program. “And you?” I ask Bekken.
Bekken frowns. “Yeah. Hate that fucking photo.”
Christos laughs. “Which is exactly why I keep it up.”
“Hey, Roderick,” Bekken adjusts his posture so he’s not so far down in the chair. “You know the Dingbats team, yeah?”
“Yeah…” I lift a brow. “Can’t say I’ve made it to every single game, but my roommate is on the team.”
“No shit? You think they got what it takes to be champions?”
Last year I’d have no problem telling Bekken that there’s no way the Dingbats will ever be greater than their legacy. I might not have hesitated in saying it now if Christos wasn’t in the room. What did Christos say about lying? Don’t give too many details? I can saysure they areand be on my merry way.
Bekken’s eyes are narrow, sizing me up, or maybe sizing up my professional ego. Yeah, I could lie. With any luck I’ll never see this guy again. But I will see Christos, who is also staring at me, waiting for an answer.
“Who the fuck knows,” I huff. “I was never great at team sports, I don’t know what it takes to be a champion team.”
Bekken crosses his arms. “Very diplomatic answer.”
“Thank you.” I say not even attempting to suppress my haughtiness. “I do know that a lot of the guys love this team. Even before we won any games, they’d work as hard as any other players in the league. But working hard, being passionate, loving every moment on the ice—it isn’t enough.”
There’s a hint of a smirk on Bekken’s lips.
I add, “But neither is being six foot five and having skin like a boulder. I dunno, I have a lot more respect for people who root for the losing team than whoever is winning at that moment.” I turn to Christos, his expression piqued. “Thanks for grabbing this. I gotta go.”
I shut the door behind me, but I can still overhear them. “I owe you a drink. There’s a bar right in town.”
“Nah,” Bekken snorts. “Not interested in getting swarmed by barely legal girls.”
TwinkleTop:Bekken still here?
3dg3-me3:yeah he’s staying with me so you can’t come over
3dg3-m3:sorry
3dg3-m3:I’ll make it up to you
TwinkleTop:You don’t have to make anything up to me.
TwinkleTop:I’ll live.
3dg3-m3:will you?
TwinkleTop:Worse, I’ll survive and complain about it the whole time
Chapter
