Page 72 of Ice Mechanic

“Would you prefer the term ‘no-no zone’? Bodunk-a-donk? Rumparoony—as the kids say?”

“Which kids? I would pay to know which kids are saying that.” I tiptoe down the hallway.

“If you can’t even say the word, Chance, why onearthwould you galivant around in such a manner, embarrassing yourself and your family for the whole world to see?”

I’m getting close to the second locker room.

Lowering my voice, I whisper, “I’m sorry, mom. It’s my fault. It’ll never happen again. Now, I really need to go.”

“Wait, I have one more thing to discuss. Who’s that girl you keep getting photographed with?”

I tense. “You’re asking like you haven’t already run a background check.”

“That’s not very nice, Chance,” she says dryly. “And of course I’ve run a background check. I know more about that woman than you do.”

“Mom…”

“Her name is April Brooks. She went to atrade school,” mom sounds mildly disgusted. “Her dad is in a nursing home and she’s struggling to pay both his bills and her garage’s mortgage.”

That stops me short. “April’s struggling to pay her dad’s bills?”

“She looks very different than the women you usually go for, Chance. And don’t get me wrong. That’s not a bad thing. I’m just a little concerned that such a woman would be with you for your money.”

I check my watch. Three minutes.

I’m running out of time.

“April’s not like that. She’s amazing.”

“But—”

“Things are different with her,” I tell mom firmly.

“So you’re bringing her to the gala?”

I crane my neck to see into the locker room. “Yes, yes. You’ll see her then.”

“Chance, darling, if you’re ready for ‘different’, I can introduce you to so many women?—”

“I’ll call you later, mom. Love you.”

Tapping the ‘end call’ button abruptly, I slip my phone into my pocket and sneak into the locker room.

Two minutes.

I run like a track and field athlete at the Olympics. My fingers dig into fabric. Shoes. Gym bags. I even snatch the team’s flag from the wall. Rolling them into a giant ball, I scurry out of the locker room just as one of the faucets in the shower squeaks off.

“No way you got so many numbers,” Theilan is saying to someone.

Watson’s voice rings with pride. “I got ten, bro.”

“Call them. I bet half those girls gave you dupes.” That voice belongs to the Hello Kitty man himself, Renthrow.

“Wait right here. I’ll get my cell phone and prove it.” Footsteps slap the ground and a moment later, I hear, “Did anyone move my cell phone?”

Holding back laughter, I dash to the security room. By the time I drop comfortably into the chair behind the monitors, the action is already taking place.

Renthrow’s head is wedged into the hallway while his body is hunkering behind the door. His eyes are wide and he’s craning his neck as far as it can go. Mouth wide, he appears to be yelling for someone.

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