Page 86 of Anatomy of a Player

“Okay, so you told her you loved her, but what else did you do?”

I groaned and rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “I seriously can’t believe we’re talking about this.”

“Deal with it. When did you tell her? Right after she found out about the bet?”

“Yeah. Well, after she told me that she knew about the bet—she’d heard you going on and on about it.”

Dane at least had the decency to look guilty. “Sorry about that, bro. For the record, I never would’ve taken your jersey—I know how much it means to you. Like I said, I just wanted you to get out of your rut. I knew something was going on with your mom and—”

“Let’s focus on one problem at a time,” I said, holding up a hand.

Dane gave one sharp nod. “Right. So Whitney tells you that she knows we’re all a bunch of assholes who made a stupid bet, and then you just blurted out that you loved her?”

“First I told her I was sorry, and that I wanted to fix it.”

“But you didn’t do anything to fix it,” Dane said. Or maybe it was a question. I couldn’t really tell.

I scowled at him. “I’m back to wanting to hit you.”

“You have to do something big, bro! Remember how Beck made a fool of himself at that party? That was classic. And it obviously worked.”

Oh, I remembered the party, and the worst rapping I’d ever heard in my life. We brought it up often on the road, too, teasing Beck that we needed him to serenade us. “I’m not singing.”

Shit, I’d do just about anything else, though. Honestly, I’d sing if that was what she wanted. “Do you think…?” The words snagged in my throat for a second, that was how much I’d lost my mind over this girl. “You really think I have a chance at winning her back?”

“I think you’d be stupid not to try.”

The hope I’d done my damnedest to smother sparked. It coughed and sputtered from everything I’d thrown on it, but it relit and gave off a tiny glow. Was it enough? Enough to make a total fool of myself, complete with a big gesture and begging?

But another question rose to my mind, one that Beck had planted there. Could I live without her?

I’d tried it for six of the longest, worst days of my life. It felt like part of me had died, and not even hockey made me happy anymore. I saw my life without her, and the emptiness I’d envisioned echoed through my hollow chest.

Fuck that. I needed her. She was everything I wanted, and I knew if I didn’t try to get her back, I’d regret it forever. “Okay, I’m in. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Whitney

“What’s all this?” I asked when Lindsay and Will greeted me with champagne in the newsroom on Friday afternoon.

“This is congrats on one front page story, plus double congrats for another one scheduled for Monday.” Lindsay placed a half-filled red plastic cup in my hand. “Also, if any faculty come in, hide all traces of drinking, because it’s a big no-no.”

I took a sip and the tingly bubbles slid down my throat. It turned out that Calvin Wagner and his roommate were running quite the cheating ring. After gaining access to test banks and solution manuals, they started their own tutoring business. They, as well as their ten employees, knew exactly what would be on every test, so they tailored the tutoring sessions to fit them. Which made them look like the best tutors ever, and with such a high success rate to brag about, they were able to charge more.

If the students weren’t picking up the information even with that tailored help, they dropped a few hints to see how open they’d be to “other guaranteed means,” and if the students weren’t opposed, they’d sell them the tests and manuals.

On the side, they also had an email address for people who forewent the tutoring route altogether, passed Go, paid their two hundred dollars, and collected their cheat sheets.

Adam McCaffrey, the academic advisor for the hockey team, gave out both email addresses to players. At first he claimed they were both for tutoring, but he’d finally admitted to knowing and even encouraging some of the players to buy the tests to keep themselves eligible. He swore that the coaches had no idea that it was going on and then he turned in his resignation. As much as I tried to tell myself cheaters were cheaters, my heart went out to the players who’d bought tests. When your academic advisor advised you to cheat so you wouldn’t let down your team, it’d be pretty hard to resist taking the easy way out.

While several students—both athletes and non-athletes, who I also felt sorry for—had paid for tests, Calvin’s inbox revealed that the email Dane sent simply asked for a tutor to help Hudson in his Sociology Statistics class. I assumed Dane had stepped in because Hudson was too stubborn to email and ask for help, but I couldn’t confirm it, since I wasn’t talking to him right now. Which made me want to start crying, and it was getting ridiculous already.

Of course, if anyone asked, I’d never seen that email and neither had Will. Instead, we used the set up Will already had with Calvin and paid for a test to a class none of us had, which gave us enough legally-obtained proof to turn it over to the Dean of Students. Calvin and his team had folded pretty quickly, and the scoop would be in the next edition of theHeights.

Two front-page articles in a row, and the first was already getting a good response. It was what I’d dreamed of since I’d picked up my first glittery pink journal and decided to report stories.

But it felt empty.

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