Page 54 of The Do-Over Girl

NASH

After a short and not-sweet discussion with Barbara Smith, who has by now been completely cured of her crush on me, I barely make it back to the rink in time for practice.

I lace up and take the ice, blowing my whistle, and Archie smiles, joining in with his whistle to gather the guys at center ice. It looks like they’ve just started their warmup skate as I glide to the center of the circle.

“Friday night’s a big night, guys. It’ll be the season opener for the biggest season of your lives up until now. I don’t have to tell you that we have more at stake this season than winning a few hockey games. We have the future of Andrews Point Academy at stake and the future of Andrews Point itself.”

The guys grunt, and as I look around the circle at each one of them, I confirm that they are taking me seriously.

“We have no room for distractions. None. From now until the end of the season, you will give your time and attention to two things and only two things—school and hockey. In that order. Nothing else. Do you understand me? Is there anyone here who can’t handle that?”

The responds in a chorus, “No sir, Coach.”

“Coach,” Dylan says, “I’m sorry about the earlier, uh, distraction. It won’t happen again.”

I look him in the eye, communicating steely resolve and getting the same in return. I nod.

“Let’s get on with practice.” I blow my whistle. “Line up for sprint drills.”

One of the guys turns and says, “Is it true we’re going to be on TV Friday night?”

I point at him. “To the locker room. You’re out.” He drops his jaw. Archie gives me a look, and he’s about to say something, but I stop him with a don’t-you-fucking-dare look.

He gets the message.

“Move it. Off the ice. Wait in the locker room.” I turn to the stunned silent faces of my team. “TV is the top of the list of distractions, the exact thing you do not need to worry about or even give a single thought to. Got it?”

“Yes, coach.” Their voices are loud and determined.

I blow the whistle and they take off, lining up for drills.

As practice continues, and the kids skate their hearts out, working harder than I’ve ever seen, Archie joins me at the bench where I’m studying my tablet.

“You think they’ve had enough torture?”

“Call the practice if you want.”

He snorts. “You sure you’re not going to get pissed at me too for having a life?”

I put my tablet aside. “We’re on a mission, Archie.”

He nods. Then he blows the whistle and calls practice after holding them on the ice for two hours,

Dylan knocks on my office door, the last one out of the locker room as usual. “Can I talk to you, Coach?”

“Sure. What is it?” I try not to sound soft or concerned. At the same time, I don’t want to be cold because he’s a kid, I remind myself, not a professional and far from an adult.

“When you were talking about distractions, what exactly did you mean?”

“Like I said, everything but school and hockey.”

“What about…family? Or…”

“Girlfriends?” I say it for him because he can’t seem to manage. He’s easy to read, probably because he’s a lot like I was at his age.

He nods. “You had a girlfriend in high school.” He says it like an accusation.

“True. But, then I didn’t.” I clear my throat. “The stakes are different for you now. There’s a lot riding on this team besides winning a few games.” I sigh. “Why do I sound like a broken record?”