Page 5 of Daydream

Jolly is a borderline hippie and believes the history of art should be something you learn about and feel in your soul. She hates the idea of grading people on how they interpret and enjoy learning about art, so her class is final exam only, and that’s just because the department makes her. It’s impossible to fail as long as you show up, and she doesn’t have a class cap, meaning I could get in even though I signed up for classes later than everyone.

I love Professor Jolly’s class not only because it’sactuallyinteresting, but because I understand what she wants from me. What I learn helps me with my practical work, and I don’t leave her class feeling unprepared and lacking direction like I do with Thornton. It would have been the perfect solution, but it doesn’t meet the requirement. “I work better under the pressure of an exam.”

Faulkner starts tapping his pen again. “Have you talked to Professor Thornton?”

Professor Thornton is even less interested than you are, I want to say. “He was unwilling to hear me out.”

“It’s out of my hands,” he says, giving me an uninterested shrug. “Should have come to me sooner so I could have helped you.”

Be more organized. Come to me sooner.I don’t know how to explain to someone who doesn’t live inside my head that they could have physically carried me to the office or glued a laptop down in front of me and I’d have still found a way to avoid the task. “What happens when I fail the class?”

I’m not even worried about my GPA because I dominate at things I enjoy, and I love everything else on my schedule for the rest of the year—assuming I register for the rest of my classes in time. It’s justthisclass and Faulkner’s obsession with team captain academic perfectionism.

After his professional career was cut short by an accident that left him unable to play, he’s obsessed with us having a backup plan. Yes, as student athletes we’re tied to achieving a certain grade point average to be able to keep that title, but what Faulkner wants is next level. I know there’s no point in fighting it, because no person who ever fought it before me won.

“We’re not talking about that. You’re the leader of this team, Turner. You don’t get to fail your classes and keep your title. Partner with a classmate, join a study group, use your academic adviser for something other than quitting… I don’t fucking care. You do whatever it takes to make it work. I don’t expect to hear about any more bad grades.”

Nate made it all looksoeasy, and I’m kind of mad at him for downplaying how much of a hard-ass Faulkner is in private. I’ve been told so many times that being captain is an honor, but as I drag my feet out of Faulkner’s office, it feels more like a weight around my neck. Leadership doesn’t come naturally to me; I’ve always beenhappier in solitude, but I’m trying as hard as I can. I don’t want to let my teammates down, or Nate and Robbie, who convinced Coach I deserved it.

Being captain is a lot like Thornton’s class. I’m expected to know so much that nobody has ever explained to me, and yet I’m supposed to just smile through it. It’s why I said no when I was originally offered the position. I expected it to be given to someone else and I could carry on living my life. But that didn’t happen, Nate and Robbie continued to reason with me.

They tried everything from comparing me to everyone I suggested would be a better captain to saying I’d be the first Black hockey captain at Maple Hills. They dropped the latter when I said it was a damning snapshot of opportunities for people of color in hockey and not the win they were making it out to be.

The more my teammates pushed, the more others started. My moms, Anastasia… so many people told me they thought it was amazing, and how excited they would be to see what I could do. In the end, even though I still had my doubts, I accepted.

I don’t give in to peer pressure, but this is the one time I did, and look where it’s gotten me. Not only do I need to stress about letting the entire team down, but I also need to worry about letting down everyone not on the team, who, through no fault of my own, believes in me. It’s so hard having supportive friends and family who don’t immediately assume the worst.

“ANY SUCCESS?” RUSS ASKS ASI climb into his truck in the now-deserted parking lot.

“I’m fucked.”

“I’m sure it’s not that ba—”

“He told me I don’t get to quit or fail my classes and to find a solution.”

Russ sighs as he navigates us out of the empty lot. “Helpful. Look, it might not be as bad as you think the more practice you get. I’ll help you as much as I can, and so will Aurora. Next time, we can get our codes to register for classes together.”

I rest my head against the window as we pull up to a red light and wonder how I can possibly put into words that don’t make me seem unhinged that, short of a perfect set of circumstances all aligning to allow me to feel excited about the prospect of organizing my schedule, I’ll probably be in this mess again in January. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Rory is at the house with Robbie waiting to hang out, but if you need peace, we can go to her place,” he says softly as we turn onto Maple Avenue. “I don’t mind.”

I like living with Russ because he always seems to interpret a person’s mood without many words. I think it’s a skill born from the constant state of fear he was in when growing up with a dad who wasn’t nice to live with, but I don’t think it would be okay to ask him if he agrees with me outright. Especially since his dad is trying to be better and Russ is trying to give him a chance to prove himself.

“You don’t need to go anywhere. I like Aurora.”

I lift my head from the window in time to catch the small smile on his face. “She likes you, too.”

Russ changed a lot this summer when he was working at a sleepaway camp. He met his girlfriend, challenged his dad’s gambling addiction, and, while I don’t think he’s ever going to be the loudest person in the room, he’s more confident than he was.

As for Aurora, she’s not who I was expecting for Russ, but I think that’s a good thing. Russ likes her because she’s generous and kind, and he spent a long time feeling second best before he met her. He’s her number one, which isn’t me making assumptions: she says he’s her number one to literally anyone who will listen. There’s no room for doubt in his head that he is important to Aurora because she tells him, and boy is she loud.

I don’t like to compare my friends because they’re all different, but she’s the only one who doesn’t talk to me about hockey, which puts her pretty high up on my list given it feels like the only thing people ever want to ask me about now.

Trying to remember the last time someone asked me about one of my other interests makes the trip home quick. Before I realize where we are, Russ is pulling into the drive beside his girlfriend’s car.

Aurora looks up when I open the front door, but her eyes travel straight past me and the widest grin spreads across her face when she spots Russ. I feel like we just shipped one lot of girlfriends out, and immediately gained more.

She’s conventionally attractive—average height and build, suntanned white skin with green eyes and blond hair—but I don’t think she’d be very interesting to draw.

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