He Shoots, She scores

Chapter Twenty-Two: Weston | Taking Center Stage

I'm told two crucial pieces of information tonight that have soured my mood. First, my sister tells me that our dear father has suffered a stroke, and that we only have a few weeks to see him one last time before they pull the plug. I have no desire to 'say my last farewells' to him and I make sure Madison knows this, but she keeps telling me I'll regret it if I don't. In reality, seeing our father, who treated us like dirt on his shoe for the last 20 years, is the last thing I want to do. I don't want to 'make amends' with him, no matter how sick or frail he is. I've already made peace with this situation in my head. Seeing him in real life would derail everything.

The second piece of information is that John got kicked off the team. Apparently, the idiot got in a fight. He's been suspended for the next few games. Our campus' strict no-violence policy means that no amount of nepotism can save John, not even having his father as the coach. John getting kicked out lifts my mood a little, until Coach informs me that I'll be playing center. He tells me this fifteen minute before we're scheduled to go on the ice. I've been arguing with him on this for half of that time.

"Are you crazy?" I yell at him. I know this isn't the way to talk to someone twice my age (my father reminded me of that everyday), but Coach hasn't given me an ounce of respect since I've played on his team, so I don't see why I need to reciprocate it. "I play right defenseman!"

"I understand that, Weston. But John isn't here, and Sam, who normally plays center, is out sick. I have to make adjustments. As team captain, you should understand that better than anyone else."

"I've never played center in my life" I snap.

"Well then you better learn fast. Game starts in-" he checks his watch, "-five minutes."

"Don't be shocked if we lose" I huff, sticking my helmet back on.

"Oh, I won't. But I will have a key player to blame if that happens." Coach doesn't even try to conceal his snicker. He walks away, scratching his bald head with his stupid clipboard, and that's when I realize this is all a set up. If I play like shit, then Coach will have a valid reason to bench me the next game. Or worse, kick me off the team for good. And if that happens, I can kiss my scholarship goodbye. That son of a bitch.

I don't have time to get mad. I bring the team in for a huddle and let them know about the recent change in our game plan. I watch their faces behind their helmet grow stressed and confused. "But you don't play center" Chad says.

"Yeah, no shit" I bark out before regretting my sharp tone. "Coach's orders. Not mine. Listen, we'll adjust and re-group after the first quarter. For now, just try not to screw up." I've been told that my approach as team captain can be 'demanding' and 'rude.' But if there's anything I've picked up from my father over the years, it's harsh criticism is better than dancing around the truth.

We throw our hands in and shout "1, 2, 3 TULSA!" before lining up single file. Walking out to the rink, I hear the announcer's voice boom from above: "And from the homecoming team we haveeee....the Tulsa Wolverines!" Massive applause thunders and we're banging our sticks out on the ground. It's like a disco party in here. The lights are going haywire. I still remember the first time I ever played for the campus team. The lights and music used to disorient me. I hadn't been used to it. With Madison back in town, the prospect of seeing dad in the hospital, and my new position as center, it suddenly feels like I'm a newbie on the ice all over again.

As we face the audience during the national anthem, I brace myself for the hell about to ensue.