Page 7 of Pinkie Promise

“What I want to know,” Benson rumbles in his rough drawl, “is why during our firstfriendlygame of the season – let me reiterate that so that you’re clear, Wilde: the firstfriendlygame of the season – the top scorer on my team decided to get himself the most time in the sin-bin, out of everyone elsecombined.”

I roll my shoulders and shift on the seat.

I’ve never needed to be a player who watches his step, mainly because I made myself ineligible for NHL drafting when I was eighteen meaning that my balls were never in that vice. I’ve also never exactly been a dirty player. I mean, I can’t help it that sometimes when I return a swing to a guy who hit first he goes flying across the ice because I’m two hundred and twenty pounds. But now that I’m thinking of signing as a free agent, and also since Benson thinks that this year I’ll be able to break the record as Carter U’s top hockey scorer of all time, Coach has started making a real big deal about keeping our games completely clean.

This isn’t what I wanted to listen to at nine in the damn morning.

“We won,” I say simply.

“You were the most penalised player of the whole damn game.”

I stick my tongue in my cheek, spreading my knees a little wider, because yeah, okay, I can’t argue with the facts. Maybe I did play harder than I usually would but none of my game was unwarranted. Our ‘friendly’ competitors were a total fucking nightmare.

“You were there, Coach. You saw how they were playing.”

“I did see how they were playing, but I also saw howyouwere playing. You think you’re all noble dishing out justice? That’s the ref’s job. Not yours, Wilde.”

He’s right, which riles me up even harder.

“Why is this a big deal all of a sudden?” I ask, my leg beginning to bounce up and down.

Benson gives me a disbelieving look. “Because you’re thecaptain.”

I grunt.He’s got me there.“It was… my first time in that position. Being their captain. Being that responsible.” I look across at Benson and he’s watching me intently. Listening to me.He gives me a subtle nod to continue and I feel the tension in my chest loosen slightly, relieved that he’s letting me explain myself rather than benching me for the rest of the fall.

Even if talking about this is really fucking awkward.

“I’m really, uh, proud to be the team’s captain. To be trusted with that title is…” I look out of the window towards the mountains of Carter Ridge, the vastness of the small town landscape grounding me a little. “It’s an honour. And because of that, when our opponents were body-slamming the shit out of us, I didn’t wanna be the asshole who passively let that happen.”

“To an outsider it’s just gonna look like you’re hankering to get involved in every fight you see.”

“I wasn’t fighting back,” I grunt. “I was taking the hits.”

“Being the captain means that you need to consider what’s best for the whole team. Being Captain-less isn’t it.” Benson shuffles his papers, then longingly eyes his stress-puck. “No more taking the fall so that the other guys don’t suffer. You hear me? It’s fucking ice hockey. Every guy on the team is going to suffer.”

I clear my throat. “It’s my duty to–”

“You think that they can’t fight for themselves? As their captain, you should have more faith in them.”

I feel my jaw harden. Sometimes Benson is a real prick.

“If you’re still in the same mindset that you were in last year, wanting to get signed as a free agent for when you graduate, then I want to see no more of this interfering shit. All that that’s gonna do is jeopardise your season, and jeopardising your season is going to jeopardise you getting signed. And I’ll make damn sure of it because if you don’t fall in line, I’ll bench you.”

I open my mouth to protest but he cuts me off with adon’t even try itlook.

Last year we got the Rangers all the way to the national championship finals only to lose the game in the last period.There’s not a chance in hell that Benson is going to let a victory like that slip out of our gloves again, especially considering the fact that this year’s Frozen Four final is taking placeright herein Carter Ridge.

“We’re taking the NCAA title this year, and you’re breaking the record as Carter U’s top goal scorer. You got that, Wilde?”

Benson levels me with a stare until I let out a deep exhale and nod.

“And one more thing,” he calls out as I stand to leave. I look down at him, my hands tucked into the front pockets of my jeans so that Benson can’t see how violently they’re flexing right now. I need to release some energy. I already trained this morning but this conversation has grated me so hard that I’m going to redo the whole fucking set. “I know that you weren’t just taking the hits out there, Wilde. You’re a big guy. You could do some serious damage.”

I grimace. “We’re all big guys.”

Coach breathes out a wry laugh. “Don’t give me that shit. You spend all of your free time training and you’ve still got that much pent-up energy? Sort it out before it becomes a problem. I’m being serious. You need to blow some steam.”

We stare at each other without speaking because I’m trying to work out if he’s saying what I think that he is. Benson doesn’t generally get involved in his players’ private lives, but I’m pretty sure that he’s hinting at the one thing that my team loves more than playing hockey.

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