Page 21 of Untouchable Player

I can feel my face getting red and I can’t look at Nate.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asks, “to get drafted out of high school?”

No one’s ever asked me if Iwantedto get drafted. Everyone always assumes if you play hockey then you must obviously want to get drafted. Who doesn’t want to play in the NHL?

“Yeah, sure.”

“But you can still play in the NHL right? Loads of players go in as free agents.”

I smile, “you know about hockey?”

“Actually, no, I put a lot of effort into not learning hockey, but sometimes I fail and pick up bits and pieces of conversation between my parents over the dinner table.”

“Oh man, your parents talk about hockey at the dinner table too?”

“Yep.”

“That must suck for you.”

Nate’s smile fades and I think I’ve said something wrong.

He shrugs. “Do you have any siblings?”

“I’ve got a little sister, but she loves hockey more than I do.”

“Is she going to play?”

“If my dad lets her. He doesn’t think there’s any point for girls.”

“Why?”

“They don’t make as much money as the men.”

“Oh.”

We both look down at the same time, our gaze landing on the open book with the diagrams of protein synthases.

“So do you think I can get a C on this essay?”

“I’ll help you with your essay, but I’m not writing it for you.”

A little flutter of hope works its way up, “I don’t want you to write it for me.”

He blinks at me like I just said something in another language.

“Okay, good.”

My phone buzzes, mom flashing up on the screen.

“You can get that,” he says.

“It’s just my mom, I’ll tell her I’m studying.”

I go into the hallway and tell her I’ll call her back later. Nate’s smiling when I come back in and I blush, realising he must have heard me telling my mom I love her.

“Where do your parents live?” he asks as I sit down.

“Philly. Can’t you tell by the accent?”

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