Page 18 of Embrace
I run the drills, watching the guys half-ass their way through them. I can’t even blame them. I spent most of the summer messing around, too, but at least I hit the gym and played beer league. These guys look like they haven’t touched a stick in months.
Sebastian blindsides me with a hit, laughing when I spin to chase him down, until Coach blows the whistle and calls me over.
I flag the rest of the guys, making sure they continue the drill without me. I skate over to Coach, looking at the clipboard in his hand. “I swear I’m not moping. See?” I plaster on a fake grin.
“I want your input on the new lines.” Kilner shows me the current setup. A few issues pop out at me.
“You’ve got Hayes centering, but his face-off numbers are rough right now. If we’re losing draws in our zone against their top line, we’ll be buried before we can even break out.”
Coach nods, but there’s a new vein on his forehead.
“And pairing Carter with Reid?” I continue. “Without Donovan, we’re leaving a slot wide open. Odd-man rushes all night.”
My hand itches to change it, and I try to stop the plays from forming in my head, but they take over. I grab his pencil. “Hayes should drop to the second line. Put me between the two rookies on the first line. This way it lets our D-man attack without hanging us out to dry.”
I brace for pushback, maybe even a lecture about staying in my lane. Instead, Coach Kilner says, “We’re running your version tomorrow.”
“Wait…that’s it? You’re just going to use my strategy?”
He’s already walking away. “You saw the weak points and fixed them. That’s not just winger vision, Ishida.”
I’m still in shock when the team steps off the ice. Cole and Sebastian eye me with curiosity. “So, who’s playing in the first game, Captain?”
The title sounds off, and I ignore it. “Seb’s gotta step up, ’cause we got him on the second line.”
Sebastian’s jaw drops. “You told him I should be in the second line? What the fuck, Ishida?”
“Don’t mess up your face-offs, and we might get you back up.” I head to the locker room, and they follow.
“I don’t like you as captain,” Seb mutters.
“I do, Cap.” Cole salutes.
I scoff. “Kilner wouldn’t dream of making me captain. I’m just a glorified assistant.”
“Or,” Tyler Sampson, our center, cuts in, “he’s got you as an alternate captain because he’s easing you in. The guy’s too traditional to let us play our first game without a captain.”
Sampson’s dad is a hockey legend, right up there with Summer Preston’s dad. As alternate captain, the responsibility falls on him since Dylan got suspended, but he already pulled out because he’s focusing on law school. But that pretty much sums up the kind of guy Tyler Sampson is. He’ll always do exactly what he wants.
“Who’s driving to Porter’s? I’m not making dinner tonight,” Cole says. The guy’s idea of dinner is tossing salami onto bread.
“Can’t. I’ve got tutoring,” I say, heading to the showers. They both follow, going into the two stalls on either side of me.
“You’re choosing to study over Porter’s wings?” Seb yells over the shower spray.
Cole laughs. “It’s that hot redhead, isn’t it? The one you declared your love for in the dining hall.”
“What declaration?” Seb asks.
“It was all over the Dalton gossip page,” he answers.
“And this girl is hot?”
“Don’t you remember the smokin’ hot redhead at all those frat parties?”
My jaw clenches as I rinse the soap from my skin. “She’s not a redhead. And she’s my tutor, don’t talk about her like that.”
Scarlett wasn’t exaggerating about her reputation. But what gets me is that she actually cares about what the shitty people on campus have to say about her.
