Page 103 of What We Knew Then
He laughs. “I’d rather have a losing season than coach men who don’t know the weight of the real world.”
I hold back a laugh because if anyone understands it, it’s fucking me. My mom was an alcoholic who dated drug dealers and people with worse drinking problems than her. I’ve been aware of how heavy the real world is for as long as I can remember.
But I don’t say that because how could I?
“What will you say to the scouts?” I ask. “They’ll ask why I was benched this deep in the season.”
“I’ll tell them it’s between the two of us.”
I lean back in the chair. “Which is code for some sort of shitty behavior.”
“That’s pretty close to what happened, Lane. Listen, I could’ve let the cop give you a ticket; told him to share it with his buddies and simply removed you from the roster. I’m trying to give you a chance.”
I scoff. “A chance for what?”
“To graduate. To finish college. Finish this season.”
It won’t matter. Maybe to someone else, but not me. My only plan has ever been hockey—it’s the only thing I’m good at. I swallow past the lump in my throat as my body feels like it’s floating. This can’t be real.
“Two week suspension. Yes or no?” he asks, but we both know the question is rhetorical.
I nod because I don’t trust myself to open my mouth.
And then the door swings open, and there stands Cora in her pajamas.
“Dad, stop. This isn’t Lane’s fault—”
“I know you didn’t just storm into a closed door meeting, Coralee Banks,” Coach snaps. “Now is not the time. Go home.”
She steps in further. “But it sounds like it’ll be too late. Dad, I swear he—”
“Last night was when it was too late. Now, I will not tell you again. Close the door on your way out.”
Cora doesn’t move. Coach looks at her for a few seconds before he sighs heavily and snaps, “Fine. Lane, you go.”
I do as I’m told and leave them behind.
Chapter 60
CORA
I’veneverdonesomethinglike this before. I don’t think my dad even knows what to do. What to say. Besides kicking Lane out for whatever's going to happen next.
I wasn’t going to show up and crash their meeting like this, but then my dad was talking about a two week suspension. Yes, I was listening through the door and no, I don't feel bad about it. Plus, my body was moving before my still-tequila-soaked brain could catch up.
And then I saw Lane. He looked tired; it made something twist in my chest. The kind of tired that isn’t just about sleep. When he walked past me, he didn’t look up. His eyes were glued to the floor as he made his escape.
“Coralee Banks. What do you think you’re doing?” my dad says, truly stunned.
“Why are you suspending Lane? He didn’t do anything.”
He stands from behind his desk. “This isn’t your business.”
“I can tell you what I did. How I screwed up. But none of that includes Lane. He was the one making sure I was safe. He only showed up to that party because I practically begged him to come.”
He runs his hands through his hair, annoyance sort of falling with his sighed breath. “I can’t look past it. The car smelled like liquor. He was driving you. The cop watched him swerve.”
It looks as bad as it could. I know that.
