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Instead of heading straight up to see Abby for lunch, I made a detour and found Coach Rencovitch in his office. He ushered me in and pushed some papers aside while I squeezed myself in the human-sized chair opposite him.

“You are Bwat, right?” He steepled his hands together under his chin and looked at me.

“Yes. First, I am very glad you are here to guide our team, coach. Ozar is a good leader, and I have been studying all about the hockey game, but we need and welcome your guidance.”

It was a carefully rehearsed speech. The internet told me it was important to lead difficult conversations with words that showed your appreciation and your recognition toward the other’s status in relation to yourself.

“I know I am not a strong player, but I am dedicated to the team and the success of the Tusks. I will do all I can to improve my performance on the ice, and I hope that my research and knowledge, as well as my small success in promoting the team on social media is helpful.”

Admit your weaknesses first, then highlight your willingness to improve, then mention your strengths and how they positively impact the organization’s goals.

“I am here asking for personal feedback. What can I do to be a better skater and be better at whichever position you assign me on the team? I want to help the team win.”

Close with an ask for feedback that can specifically help your own performance, again emphasizing your commitment to the company/team’s success.

Coach Rencovitch sat for a moment, then let out a sigh and his hands flat on top of his desk. “I’ll be honest, Bwat, the owner is thinking of who he should cut from the team in favor of bringing in some fresh…talent, and you’re on the list.”

I’d known this. It was only logical. Yet hearing it said out loud was like being stabbed. Not that I’d ever been stabbed, but I imaged this was what it would feel like. It wasn’t just that I’d need to find new gainful employment to remain here. It wasn’t just that I would no longer see Abby every day or be able to easily have lunch with her in her office. I liked playing hockey. I liked the team, and working with them to hopefully a successful future. I didn’t want to think about another job that didn’t involve hockey or Eng threatening to hit me, or Ozar yelling at me, or Pfton snoring next to me during a long bus ride. I didn’t want to think of a job without skates and sticks and the hardest challenge I’d ever faced, ever stuck with, ever tried my hardest to be good at.

I didn’t want to give up until I’d at least attained minor competence at this. Or even afterward. I’d come to love this game and this team.

“I know you’ve been practicing hard–harder than most of the other orcs on the team. I can see how you contribute both in terms of knowledge and through your strong connection with fans and the press. I just don’t know where your strengths are on the ice, or if you even have any strengths on the ice.” The coach’s voice and expression were kindly, even delivering such brutal honesty.

“I am very good at knocking the enemy players down,” I volunteered.

The coach laughed. “Yes, you are. I thought about having you on defense, but we would generally want the largest of the team members in those positions.”

I wasn’t the largest of the orcs. “But I am larger than the human players,” I pointed out. “Even the very large human players are not bigger than me. And I have been told that I am like skating into a large tree and am not easy to move aside.”

Coach Rencovitch steepled his hands again, looking thoughtful. “We might be able to work with you being immovable. And the Ducks did seem to lose their focus when you were barreling toward them during the last game. If we can keep the penalties down, and improve your puck handling, then you actually might make a decent defender.”

I caught my breath, feeling a tiny sliver of hope. “I will spend more time with my stick and pucks. If you can help me not cause as many penalties, I would be very grateful.”

The man nodded, then stood and extended his hand across the desk toward me. I did the same, shaking his hand as I knew was the human custom.

“Deal. Let’s work on those things and see how the game goes Friday night. If you look like you could play a defender position, then we’ll double down. If not, then I have to be totally honest and advise you to begin looking for other employment, Bwat.”

I left his office and headed up to Abby’s not letting the last bit of his statement dampen the excitement I felt. I had another chance to make this work, and I was going to do everything I could to show the coach, the team, and the fans that I had value in the Baltimore Tusks.

32

ABBY

Ifloated through my morning with a smile on my face. Daniella and Malik exchanged a grin of their own but didn’t tease me or speculate about the cause of my incredible mood. Come lunchtime, the two of them vanished as usual, leaving me to order a food delivery and wait for Bwat.

My phone rang. I snatched it out of my purse because I’m Every Woman by Chaka Khan was my mother’s ringtone.

“Mom.” There was a panicked squeak in my voice as I answered.

“Hi, Sweetie. Before you interrogate me, yes, I heard from the doctor. And no, I don’t have cancer.”

I screamed. My mom screamed. I screamed again.

Malik and Daniella burst through the door, wide eyed.

“My Mom doesn’t have cancer!” I shouted at them.

“Umm, that’s very good news. I didn’t even know that was a possibility, Abby,” Daniella said.