What if I won’t?I want to ask but settle on “Hmpf” instead. I have played out that thought countless times. I know that nothing good comes from it.
“Does your knee hurt after training?” my brother inquires, and I’m about to ask him if he plans to drop his American Literature Major in favor of a medical degree when I hear the door to his dorm room open and close in the background.
It only takes a few seconds until a familiar but obnoxious voice pipes up: “Is that your brother whining about his knee again?”
“Is that your roommate asking stupid questions again?” I hiss back. Hart and I haven’t been on good terms since our interview. I’ve never been good with words, and it definitely wasn’t my brightest moment, but he took my words and twisted them into this ugly thing. Something I never meant—which I had to try and explain to the dean when he called me into his office only a day after the interview was aired. His message to me basically underlined why I distrust all of social media’s activism, especially when it comes from big franchises around Pride Month. Because while he made it clear to me that he had a personal dislike for Hart, he expected me to shut my mouth and not endanger the school’s reputation. That is the kind of “support” I can gladly go without. I don’t need people to shake hands with me for likes and clicks on social media just so they can wipe it on their pant legs when the cameras aren’t there to capture the disgusted look on their faces.
But Hart will never get that. In fact, nothing has changed about the arrogant air with which he presents himself—no matter if we cross paths in Nate’s dorm room or on the ice, he still acts like I’m nothing more than a jealous hater. I bet he wishes the Rebels would have dropped me three years ago.
“Someone is testy today,” Hart retorts, despite Nate reprimanding both of us with a half-hearted, “Guys, come on.”
“Someone is a dick—as usual,” I mutter, but I’ve already lost interest in the verbal sparring match. We can butt heads about anything and everything, but I’m not about to discuss my injury with him.
“I need to study,” I tell Nate, even though I know I won’t open a book tonight. And he knows it too—but he lets me get away with it as he says his goodbyes. Hart’s “Do you even know how todo that?” sneaks into our conversation before I get the chance to hang up.
Xander, October 14th
The entire bus is vibrating with the infectious joy of twenty hockey players and their exasperated coaching team. Not even the two-hour ride back home has managed to calm us down.
I’m glad our coaches let us party, grinning at my teammates as I move back to my seat. There, I find the only tamper on my mood: Nate.
My best friend checked out of the celebrations about an hour ago and still sits at the back of the bus, tapping away at his phone. It takes superhuman effort not to roll my eyes.
“How’d they do?” I ask instead, sliding into the seat next to him. I already know Nate is checking his brother’s score. Because of him I know the schedule of the B-Tech Badgers almost as well as our own.
“Lost,” Nate mutters quietly, not looking up from his cellphone.
“Sucks,” I comment drily. We won after all. And if the Badgers lost, that means less competition. I nudge Nate, hoping todistract him, but he continues frowning at his phone, so more drastic measures have to be taken.
“You have plans tonight, right?” I know he does; Nate always knows when and where a party is going down, and he rarely misses any of them.
“Hm?”
It isn’t like him to be this distracted. This thing with his twin must be really eating at him, but I just tilt my head, waiting for him to process my words.
“Oh, yeah. There’s a party at Kappa Tau house. Wanna come?”
“Sorry, I have to plan the next Alliance meeting,” I huff, wishing I had picked a better subject. Even with almost four years of having Nate as my best friend, I worry that his invitations will stop one day. “But hey, you could ask some of the guys?” I lean around the seat in front of me, but Nate stops me.
“No, I’ll ask Nicko.”
I bite down on my tongue to keep back any comments. I do not want to get on Nate’s bad side by talking shit about his brother. His friendship is too important to me to risk it just to hammer it in that I think the other Van der Hoff is an entitled ass. For the rest of the drive, Nate stays glued to his phone.
Half an hour later, we make it through a traffic jam and put the forest road behind us, finally stopping next to our home rink. We have all calmed down enough to not immediately scatter in all directions the second the engine shuts off, looking at Coach when he rises from his seat.
“Alright, boys. You’ve done well tonight. Go and celebrate,” he says, always providing the quiet but firm encouragement we need. “See you fresh and ready on Monday.”To point out all the shit you did wrong, he doesn’t say, but we all hear it loud and clear.
Nate and I linger for a bit to shoot the shit with the others while we unload our bags. I’m glad to see his mood picking upagain, now that he’s tucked his phone back into the pocket of his suit jacket. We make a quick escape before we get roped into the plans of our teammates.
Our silence is comfortable as we make our way to our dorm. Nothing feels as cozy to me as seeing the rusty stone building come into view between the tall trees that make up the campus park. Even if there isn’t an elevator and we have to climb up and down the sandstone steps multiple times a day, it’s home. The feeling is dampened a bit when we get held up at the front door, our dorm guard doing a double take at Nate.
“Oh, you’re back? Didn’t even notice you went out again,” Marv greets my roommate, tilting his head at him. Nate plays it cool and distracts the older man by asking something about his family, ever the charmer.
I sigh, looking up as if I can see through all the floors right up to our dorm, where my best friend’s twin must have snuck his way inside.
True to my expectations, we find Nicko on the couch in the common area, watching TV with a bunch of sophomore girls.
“You shouldn’t sneak into our dorm. Identity theft isn’t a joke, Van der Second,” I berate him while pulling my gear out of my bag. I hope I interrupted him from flirting with any of them. God knows I already see enough of him as Nate’s brother; I don’t need to see more of him because he hooks up with one of my dorm mates.
