“Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?” he asks once the guys have left the kitchen.
“Nothing. Nothing at all is going on,” I say.
“Is she upstairs in your room right now?” he asks, and he watches me carefully like he thinks he’s some mind reader.
“No, like I said, it isn’t like that,” I repeat.
“Man, you’re no fun,” Ryse says. He passes me the empty pot.
“Jerk,” I snort.
He grins. “I’m fucking wiped but I was thinking maybe we should head out to the ice a little before practice tomorrow morning and practice some drills. Something felt off in our game last night.”
Yeah, something did feel off. I felt off. Between my anxiety over needing to succeed and the pressure of my brother’s health, I feel like a volcano waiting to erupt. I shouldn’t be surprised that Ryse caught on to that and I appreciate him not calling me out either. He’s offering help without saying as much. “That sounds good.”
“Good. See you around six?” he asks, referring to the a.m.
“Yup,” I say, and he watches me intently for a few more seconds. “If something is going on, you can trust me.”
“Thanks, but I’m good,” I insist. He shrugs and leaves the kitchen. But if Ryse caught on that my game wasn’t top-notch that means Coach and the team did to. I don’t want them thinking that I’m not carrying my weight, but on the other hand, I don’t know what to do with the anxiety that’s eating away at me either.
Logan is depending on me and right now the way things are looking, he may not be in good enough medical condition to make it to a Division 1 team. The coach told my mom that Logan may be looking at a Division 3 team, which would never work because we don’t have the money to pay for his education unless I can pay for it. Besides, I know my brother and he will want to play for the best. He won’t be satisfied playing for a Division 3 team. My mind drifts back to when we were younger. I must have been ten years old. Someone had left an old pair of skates and a dented hockey stick on their curb. They were in such bad shape that it was meant for the trash, but I picked them up and went to a local pond to try and skate. I was shitty at first but then I got faster. Sometimes kids who owned homes in the hood came to skate and held hockey games on the pond. There’s one day that is fresh in my mind. It’s the day I met Sal. He was coaching one of the peewee teams. He asked me if I wanted to sign up because the season was just starting. I couldn’t afford it so I sat on the sidelines and watched. I did that every week for a couple of years and every week Sal would come over to me and ask me how I was progressing. He’d give me a few tips and be on his way until the next practice or game, when I would show up and watch as the kids on the teams were taught new skills, but I went beyond that. I went on YouTube and watched professional hockey. Every winter I’d practice on the ice. I even did some figure skating classes on YouTube. Logan would laugh at my poor attempts at it until I got good and made him do it too. In the summer I practiced on an old pair of roller blades I found. Every time my skates would get too small, I passed them on to Logan. Since we were left alone a lot, Logan was pretty much with me all the time. He started to skate too. When he was little, he could barely keep up but then he became just as fast as me. We’d race across the ice. I’d teach him everything I was teaching myself. By the time I got to high school I played on the varsity team, but that wasn’t enough. I needed to be part of a Tier 1 team but we couldn’t afford any aspect of it. So while the guys on my school team went off to play games in the Tier 1 league, I spent my weekends practicing the best way I could. I’d bump into Sal in the hood on occasion. The peewee league terminated him because they had caught him with alcohol on his breath at an official game. Still he would give me advice, and then on a scorching hot summer day Sal came up to me and said, “I got some money for you, kid. You need to try out for the Tier 1 team. I know you’ll make it. There’ll be paperwork and shit. Fill it out using your mother’s name and pay in cash.” He then passed me a wad of one-hundred-dollar bills.
“I can’t take your money,” I said to Sal. I was a sixteen-year-old punk with no dad and a mom who was never home, but I still had morals and just taking someone’s money wasn’t cool.
“You’ll take it, kid,” he insisted. “I’m not giving you a choice. You need to make it to a Division 1 team. It’s your ticket out of this neighborhood. And take that brother of yours with you.”
“Why are you doing this, Sal?” I asked him and his eyes creased in the corners.
“Because I haven’t done much good with my life. I want you to have the money,” he said. “There’s extra so if you need to stay in a motel at the tournaments, it should cover you.”
“This is too much,” I said to Sal. There was a ton of cash in my hand. “Where did you make this much anyway?”
“Don’t ask questions,” he snapped. “Just do what I’m telling you to do.” He passed me his driver’s license.
“What do I need this for?” I asked.
“I don’t know. If they give you trouble in the motels tell them your dad is in the john,” he said. “Now go make something out of yourself.” His voice was raised like he was angry.
I took his money and did what he said. Sometimes, I convinced my mom to come to the competitions but most of the time she didn’t and it was me and my little brother in motel rooms. Coach would give us a ride to the tournaments. He knew what was going on but I was a good enough player that he put up with my baggage. He’d even help me out with the lie when motel staff at certain establishments were sticklers. Most of the time I’d forge Sal’s signature when we checked in. Coach even let Logan sit by his side during games. Hockey was in my brother’s blood as much as it was in mine. If Logan doesn’t make it to a Division 1 team it will eat at me. He deserves it so damn much. I just hope my mom doesn’t fuck him over literally by sleeping with his coach. Those Tier 1 coaches have connections. There’s so damn much riding on the line and then there’s Poppy. She makes my life feel not so bleak. I like myself when I’m with her and I really like her. She’s positive and. . . shit. . . there’s also Ryse. If he found out, I don’t want to know what he’d do.
I send Poppy a text to make sure she got back to her dorm okay.
Poppy: I’m fine.
Me: Good. I was worried.
Poppy: Climbing out onto a roof is an everyday activity. No biggie.
Me: Why do I doubt that?
Poppy: Because you don’t know about my catwoman skills.
Me: I’d like to hear about them.
Poppy: Another time. I’ve got work to do.
I don’t want to freak her out and tell her that the guys were suspicious.
Poppy: Was everything okay with the guys?
Me: They were on my case. We left all the food on the kitchen table. I guess I wasn’t thinking and couldn’t wait to get you in my bed.
Poppy: You have a very nice bed
Me: Having you in my bed was very nice.
Poppy: We need to do that again sometime soon.
Me: I completely agree. I’m hard just thinking about it.
Poppy: The thought of you hard is making me wet.