Page 151 of Breakneck Hockey

“But you have.”

“Only one, one fucking drink. I deserve it after what I’ve been through.”

“You’re a fifteen-year-old child. You’ve got four more years to go before you can legally drink, and it’s gonna be a lot longer if you continue to have that attitude. No more, understand?”

“Fine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Fuck. Yes, sir.”

A little camp protocol doesn’t hurt, especially if he’s being a shithead. “You’re already in enough trouble for the one.” Some might let it go, considering, but that’s not the move here. The kid needs boundaries. He’s craving them. “Tell Lane to get you here quickly, but safely.”

When I’m off the phone with him, I text Trish to let her know the deal. The problem isn’t solved, but it’s at bay for now.

I open my messages, ready to hit Alderchuck with some of the same confident energy I used with Charles, but I freeze. My hands are suddenly clammy. What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t do it. Not quite yet. I need a minute to think about this.

I’ll need an extra jersey for Charles, though, but I don’t have anything that’ll fit him. Just something with an older logo on it. It’ll have to do for now. Gina might be able to get something for him, but it’s kinda short notice. It can be the back up and digging for it will give me time to get my head on right before I talk to Alderchuck.

It’s hard to say what I should do about Alderchuck. Maybe he needs space to deal with this shit, but if we’re a couple, shouldn’t we deal with it together? He’s acting like his shit doesn’t involve me, but it does, even if he’s the one reaping the major consequences, I have responsibility. Fuck him for kicking me out of the tree fort. Fuck him, generally. He makes me so mad. Why do I bother with his ass?

The shirt I want is stuck, so I give it a little yank.

Know what? Screw texting him back. He can take his “we’ll go from there” and shove it up his ass.

I yank harder. It’s stuck. Must be caught on something.

What if Jack’s right, though? Is this my fault because I didn’t make a big enough move? Alderchuck thinks he can’t depend on me? He did run back to his brother, the same brother who’s been the mop for all his messes. Casey needs a little looking after—nota lot, just a little. Maybe sometimes a lot. I’m not sensitive like Stacey is, I’ve got my own ways, but I can take care of him if he’ll let me.

No, notletme. That’s not how we work. I barge my way in. He gets pissed when I don’t. He pushes me away to make sure I’ll come back no matter what he bulldozes me with.

Well, shit. That’s the third thing, isn’t it? The thing Casey’s annoying friend Jack wouldn’t tell me. Joke’s on Jack, I don’t need his confirmation this time. I know it in my bones. But that doesn’t mean I know what to do about it.

What the fuck do I do?

Stupid fucking shirt. Tugging with all my strength is the move.

Wham. Crash.

Pennies. Pennies rain from the sky. Or well, the top shelf of my closet. The old protein powder container I collect pennies in rolls across the carpet until it hits my foot. My arms and legs prickle with gooseflesh and my eyes catch the shiniest one.

I pluck it from the ground.

Dad.

“What do I do, Dad?”

I flip the penny, catch it, and trap it on my arm under my palm. Heads we go with Alderchuck’s preposterous plan. Tails we go with mine and I retrieve his ass after the game tomorrow.

Heads or tails?

My hand remains firmly over the coin. I don’t wanna look. What if it’s heads? Alderchuck’s plan will be the end of us, I’m sure of it.

It better be tails. God, it needs to be fucking tails.

Please, Dad. Say tails.

Heart pounding a hole through my chest, I get ready to lift my hand.

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