Page 28 of Strange Love

Before I can respond, he continues, “Does she know you’re nothing but white trash?” he taunts. The urge to punch him in the face is overwhelming. I can feel the blood rushing to my face. My palms start to sweat, and my breathing quickens.

“You think you’re better than me because of where I’m from?” I spit out, my fists clenched at my sides.

He smirks, knowing he’s struck a nerve. “Come on, Delacour,” he taunts. “Everyone knows you’re trailer trash. If it weren’t for your mom spreading her legs for some glorified grease monkey, you’d still be living in that dump.”

That’s it. That’s all it takes for me to lose control. In one swift motion, I launch across the locker room bench and tackle him into the lockers. He yells out in surprise as we crash against the metal, his body unprepared for my sudden attack.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yells, trying to push me off.

“You want to fight? I’ll shut your fucking mouth for good!” I yell back, pushing him against the lockers again. Cruz loses his balance and slides down the lockers, his ass hitting the concrete floor of the locker room with a thud. The adrenaline in my veins is fueling my rage, and I don’t care about anything else except making him swallow his words.

Before I can react, Taz is there. He grabs me and pulls me off Cruz, who’s bleeding from a cut on the side of his eye. My heart is racing, and my hands are shaking as Taz holds me back.

Cruz stands up, his face red with anger.

“You’re finished, Delacour,” he screams “Coach will kick you off this team. Say goodbye to your dreams.”

“Why would Coach kick him off the team when you’re the one that attacked him?” Taz asks with a hint of humor in his voice.

“He attacked me!” he yells. “You saw it.”

Taz shakes his head, “I didn’t see anything except you mouthing off and then attacking our team captain.”

Cruz’s face drops as reality settles in. It’s our word against his.

“Why don’t you go cry to Daddy?” Taz says. “Maybe he’ll buy you a yacht or something.”

In a rage, he slams his locker shut and storms out of the locker room.

I collapse onto a nearby bench, trying to catch my breath and calm down. Taz joins me, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“That wasn’t cool what Cruz said,” Taz says. “But you can’t let it get to you.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “I know.”

“You’ve worked hard to get where you are on this team,” Taz reminds me. “Don’t let a douchebag like him ruin it for you.”

He’s right, and I feel both resentful and determined.

“Try to get some rest tonight,” Taz advises before leaving the locker room. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”

As he walks away, I call out to him. “Hey, Taz. Thanks for having my back.”

“Always.”

Corey, Age 16 -1986

I’ve anxiously awaited my potential acceptance into the US Hockey League for the past few weeks. It’s the top-tier junior hockey program in the country, and it would be a dream come true to be a part of it. Countless hours of training and sacrificing blood, sweat, and tears have led to this moment.

The benefit of being where I currently live is that if I do make it onto the local league team, I won’t have to uproot my life and move away from home. I can continue at my high school and even complete independent study while traveling for games. The program is growing, but there are only ten teams in the country right now, so it’s amazing that I might be able to stay here. However, it also means leaving behind my high school team. It’s a harsh reality, but at this level, we prioritize playing at a higher level and can’t risk getting injured by also playing for the high school team.

This is just the beginning. If I get drafted into college or even the pros, I’ll have to adapt to new teams and leave behind the bonds I’ve formed with my teammates. That’s the world of professional sports, but it’s all worth it for the chance to play at the highest level possible.

Coach Dupree motions for me to come over as the team finishes practice. I skate towards him, trying to hide my excitement and nerves. He always stands with his whistle around his neck and his clipboard in hand.