Page 55 of Wicked Dreams

Friday night, I’m going to the hockey game. Riley will get us into the after-party, which I think she said might be held at Theo’s house. All I must do is corner Liam and lay out my plan of pissing off Caleb, and if he likes to push his buttons, maybe he’ll agree.

Or maybe I’m screwing myself over with this plan…

I guess I’ll find out.

Chapter 12

Caleb

Coach Marzden bag skates us—which essentially means we do sprints until we collapse, and then we get thirty seconds to pick ourselves back up and do it again or we’ll be there all night.

His gaze is hard and cutting. With every lap, every blow of the whistle, my anger shreds.

It doesn’t go away, of course. That would be asking too much. But Liam and I keep exchanging glances with our other teammates, accepting the blame.

It would be more cowardly to pretend we weren’t to blame.

Time seems to slow to a crawl, and I rip my mask off long enough to puke up the water I drank earlier. My legs are numb, but my lungs are on fire. I can’t seem to take in a deep enough breath to satisfy it, and that kind of pain only comes with extreme physical exertion.

My stomach cramps again, just as the whistle goes off, and I jam my helmet on. I take off after my teammates. I have to trust that my legs can still move, that my skates can dig into the ice with enough force to propel me forward.

Down to the goal line. Turn. Back.

I’m far from the last, but I’m not doing stellar either.

Ian dry heaves in the corner, one hand braced on the wall.

“Have you had enough?” Coach roars.

“Yes, Coach,” we manage, a collective not nearly as loud as we were at the start of practice.

“You’re in this predicament because of two players.” He strides onto the ice. He hooks his fingers in the cage of Liam’s helmet, using it to drag him alongside him. He shoves my left winger at me. “Because they decided to fighteach othertwo days before our game.”

I stand straighter. “Sorry, Coach.”

“It won’t happen again,” Liam adds.

“It better not,” Coach growls. “Because I will not stand for this. If I catch any of you stepping atoeout of line, you’re out for six games, minimum. I don’t care what that does to our season. I’m serious. Clear?”

“Clear,” we all echo.

Six games for fighting would be bullshit—but now isn’t the time to argue. I keep quiet until he releases us, and I wait to be the last player off the ice. I pat everyone’s back or legs with my stick.

They grumble, but they won’t hold it against me for long.

Eli waits for me down the hall, outside the locker room. His eyebrow rises, and I scowl. He and I have a shorthand way of speaking, and right now he’s asking me,What the fuck?

The answer? I don’t know.

I shouldn’t have gone after Liam like that. In the hallway, no less.

Margo just… she gets under my skin. I keep needling her, hoping to have the same result, but I don’t think I do.

She tolerates my bullshit. When I do something truly wicked, the flash of fear satiates the beast inside me… but it’s not enough. Liam got into my business about Margo, making it seem like I shouldn’t even be talking to her, and I snapped.

The thought of him coming between us…

“You look like you’re ready for another round,” Eli comments. “Whatever you’re thinking, I suggest you stop until we’re off school grounds.”

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