Cheap Shot by Brittney Mulliner
Reid
The scuffed whiteand yellow wall was coming faster than I preferred. I knew from over a decade of experience that this was going to hurt. I slammed into the board with more force than necessary for a practice scrimmage.
A grunt escaped me, but I managed to hold back the string of curses going through my mind. Ethan Clarkson, my best friend and teammate, appeared over me with his gloved hand outstretched. I took it and let him help me up before turning and glaring at Andrew.
“Really?”
The dim defenseman shrugged and skated away.
“You can’t expect too much from him. We just have to be grateful he didn’t hit someone on his own team,” Ethan said as we headed back to center ice.
He had a point. Andrew wasn’t at West Penn for his academic achievements. The oaf was tall and solid. The perfect combination for his position. As long as he received crystal clear directions, he was a threat, but leave anything open to his interpretation, and we were screwed.
“Hey, Andy,” Benjamin Cruz, our captain, called from the other end of the ice. “Try not to put our lead scorer on the injured list. We do actually need him around.”
Andrew nodded and headed back to the bench while Benjamin came to a stop in front of me and Ethan. “You okay?”
“Yeah, hopefully he remembers what you said next practice.”
Coach called us in for cool-downs, and Benjamin left us to move into the center of the lopsided circle the team formed and lead the stretches.
Ethan and I hung back at the outskirts, keeping an eye on the other guys. Practice had been grueling, a deserving punishment for the terrible effort we’d put into our last game, but that meant morale was lower than normal. As the two alternate captains, we were looked up to by the others, and Benjamin relied on us to listen when he couldn’t and let him know when one of our teammates needed something. I was watching to see how the younger players handled today. Would they complain to each other? Vomit? Curse the coaches? Or accept the consequences of our actions? After all, we were a team. We won and lost due to our combined efforts.
They knew that. It was something drilled into our heads from the time we were in Mini-Mite, but that didn’t mean they always remembered. We didn’t have time for petty complaining. Every game mattered, but we couldn’t change what happened. The only thing we could control was our attitudes and how prepared we were for the next game. We couldn’t rely on our status as the second-ranked team in the division to win, which was exactly what we’d done wrong. Even if it was a preseason game and didn’t count toward overall points, it was an unnecessary loss.
Two freshmen scooted closer together, and one dropped his eye.
I nudged Ethan and tilted my head in their direction. He watched closely before standing up and gliding toward them.
Benjamin caught my eye and gave a subtle nod, making me feel like we were working together on a top-secret mission. If only our lives were that interesting. The closest we got to excitement, outside of the sixty minutes of play each game day, was on the rare chance we had some free time to waste on video games.
It was the beginning of the season, and we already needed a break.
“Did you hear about Dylan?” Murphy, a junior center, asked Eddy, one of our goalies. They sat together a few feet in front of me.
I hadn’t heard anything about the sophomore, so I focused on their conversation while going through the stretches on autopilot.
“No, what happened?” Eddy asked.
“His girlfriend dumped him this weekend for some basketball player. He locked himself in his room for two days and wouldn’t let Kyle in until a few minutes before the game yesterday.” Murphy switched legs, kicking his stick away from him. It slid toward me, and I stopped it with the toe of my skate.
He turned toward me, and I stared him down. Practice might be close to over, but it wasn’t the time for gossip. That sort of waste of time could wait until they were out of the arena. He ducked his head and looked forward again.
Eddy peered over his shoulder and cringed when he realized I was behind them. He mouthed, sorry, and faced Benjamin.
As much as I didn’t approve of talking about teammates behind their backs, I did appreciate knowing what was going on with Dylan. He’d been off last night and contributed to our loss. We all have off days, and no one would blame him entirely, but at least I knew the reason and could offer help.
Sometimes being an example, as Coach called it, was exhausting. There were times when I just wanted to worry about my schoolwork and hockey. Nothing else. But the team didn’t have the luxury of slacking off or falling short like some other schools that would bounce back after a rough few weeks or even a whole season.
I knew that before I committed to coming to West Penn. We all did. There was no misunderstanding of what would be expected from us. We walked onto the team with our eyes wide open to the reality of what stood before us, and that was a huge mountain to climb. In my weakest, most drained moments when I had absolutely nothing left to give physically, mentally, or emotionally, I wondered what it would have been like if I’d picked a different school. If I took the path of least resistance and joined an organization with a million fewer obstacles.
Would I be the same player if I went with Boston College or Wisconsin? Would I have learned the same level of grit and determination? It was impossible to know.
The determining factor, the reason I took the risk in coming here, was standing before me. Coach Weston. He flew to my hometown and met with me my senior year of high school, and he promised me that if I trusted him and wasn’t afraid of a challenge, he would get me to the NHL. Out of all the schools that courted me, he was the only one brave––or crazy––enough to make a claim like that. So I did it, and challenge didn’t even begin to describe what I’d been through playing for West Penn.
But this was the year that mattered. It would show me if every year of playing and traveling and sacrificing had been worth it, and I refused to let some idiots ruin my chances because they couldn’t keep their mouths shut or didn’t know how to compartmentalize their personal drama.
Dylan needed to focus, and so did the two in front of me. As soon as Coach called practice, I picked up Murphy’s stick and blocked him and Eddy from leaving.
“No more.” I held each of their gazes long enough for them to nod. “If I ever hear either of you talking about a teammate like that again, it’s a strike.”
“Sorry.” Murphy swallowed, and Eddy dropped his head.
“Go.” I shoved the stick against their chests and pushed away from them.
When I got to the bench, Benjamin was waiting for me. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. I took care of it.”
“Good.” He eyed them as they stepped off the ice next to us, then I followed. Benjamin was always the last one off the ice. It didn’t matter if it was a game or practice. He waited for everyone to head back to the locker room before him. It was a trait he’d picked up from some of his idols in the NHL, and I appreciated his efforts to show respect for his team.
I shuffled into the locker room while stretching my neck. I added my stick to the shelf to be stored before nearly falling onto the bench next to Ethan. He was staring down at his phone and didn’t acknowledge my presence, which wasn’t all that unusual. He was one of those people that couldn’t multitask, and the moment his screen was near his face, he was gone. I pulled off my jersey and tossed it into the rolling bin in the center of the room. I wanted to shower and collapse on my bed for a few hours, but that would have to wait until I handled things with Dylan.
While removing my skates, I scanned the room for him, but he was probably already in the showers, so I finished pulling off my gear and grabbed my towel. It only took me a few minutes to clean off, and when I came back, Ethan was still on his phone.
“Everything okay?”
It took a moment for him to respond. “Yeah, just waiting to hear back from my sister.”
Oh, right. He’d mentioned a few weeks ago that his little sister was transferring here. I vaguely remembered meeting her during the family week our freshman year. She’d been awkward. All gangly limbs with braces and glasses that didn’t stay on her nose.
I got dressed and caught Dylan across the room, so I made my way over and sat next to him while he pulled on his shoes.
“Hey, man,” he offered a halfhearted smile.
He was normally one of those perpetually happy, optimistic people, so seeing him down was uncomfortable.
“Hey, I heard about your ex.” I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “I know it’s hard and it sucks, but it will pass.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know. It was just a shock.”
“I get that.” I clapped him on the back. “We need you at your best, so if there’s anything I can do to help––”
“It’s okay,” he rushed out. “I needed a couple of days, but it’s out of my system. Last night won’t happen again.”
His eyes held more conviction than his words, so I let it go. “Sounds good.”
I stood and headed back.
“Anyone going to the party tonight?” Kevin asked.
Benjamin folded his arms across his chest. “What party?”
“Don’t worry, the football players are hosting, and they follow the rules. It’s Coach approved,” Becker, a fellow right-wing, assured.
“That doesn’t mean we won’t get in trouble,” Matt, a junior defenseman, countered after tossing his wet towel in the bin. “One of their parties last year got so out of control the city police had to be called in because campus police couldn’t handle it.”
None of us that had been there needed the reminder. Coach had been so furious the next day at practice, he had us skating suicides for two hours straight. It didn’t matter that none of us were drinking, let alone doing anything more illicit, because the rules were clear. The moment we see alcohol, we leave. That’s it. No exceptions.
There was far too much at risk for the twenty-six of us who dedicated our lives to the game just to lose our spot on the team for a stupid college party, especially the seniors.
Benjamin shot me a curious look. “You in?”
“You’re sure there won’t be alcohol? I asked Becker.
He nodded and looked to Kevin who agreed.
“And no drugs?”
“Dude, I wouldn’t go if there was.” Becker crossed his arms.
It was a risk, but the football team was really good about following the rules. Their coaches weren’t as strict as ours, but they knew better than taking stupid gambles. When was the last time any of us had gone out? Weeks, at least. It might be good for the guys to get a break from the stress and take a night off.
“Fine, but we leave the second anything shows up we shouldn’t be around.” I pulled on my shirt then turned to Ethan. “You?”
“I think I’m going to sit this one out,” Ethan said while pulling his hair up into a bun that made the girls on campus go crazy. I teased him about his long hair for the first six months as he let it grow out, but by the time it reached his chin I was proved to be of the minority that thought he looked ridiculous.
“You never miss a party.” Benjamin eyed him while putting on deodorant.
Ethan dropped his arms and shrugged. “Not feeling it today.”
Benjamin accepted that vague answer, but it wasn’t enough for me.
I turned toward my locker and lowered my voice. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, I just don’t feel like going out tonight.”
There was nothing I could say to force him to tell me the truth, so I gave up. “Okay, man. I’ll see you later.”
He nodded and pulled a hoodie over his shirt. “See ya.”
I picked up my duffle and headed out of the locker room and into the crisp air. I’d figure out what was really going on with him later, after he had time to sort through whatever was on his mind.