Page 11 of Shutout
“The St. Cloud hockey program is still relatively new, but in its short existence it has made a name for itself in this tournament. Four Frozen Four championships in just eight years is nothing to sneeze at.”
Two of those were won by Max Cassiano’s first crop, and two by Aran Rodriguez’s. And sure, I want to be the next Cale Makar just like any other defenseman, but Max and Aran are the ones whose legacy I want to surpass. It’s impossible now that I’m starting my junior year, but maybe I can still tie them.
“But in the past two years…” Coach trails off to shake his head. “We have played worse than my kid at the mini mites.”
A murmur rises from the line of players. I have to bite my lips to not scream because, honestly, comparing the Bolts of the last two years to mini mites is disrespectful.
To the mini mites.
“But now we have some fresh blood.” He nods at the freshmen. “And we still have some veterans who want to fight.” At this he nods at… me?
I turn to my left and there’s Jamie. And to my right is Dane. Beside him, are some of the other juniors.
Wait, no acknowledgement for the seniors? Well, well, well.
Coach clasps his hands at his back. “So, we’re going to do things differently this year. Normally, the captain and alternates are seniors.” Except for Max’s cohort, but I don’t interrupt. “But this year, it’s going to be a junior.”
“What?” Kyle Warren shouts. He’s a senior now, a buddy of Liam Roberts, and he was dead sure he’d be the next captain because apparently Liam recommended him for the job. Earlier in the lockers, Kyle was saying how, and I quote,having the C on his jersey would get him so much more tail. “But that’s not right! I’m a senior.” A second later he points at his other buddies. “We are seniors. Our time is finally up.”
“You wasted your chance by playing worse than mini mites.” Coach Green lifts up his hands like he can’t freaking believe he has to repeat himself.
“Then I quit the damn team!” Kyle throws his gloves on the ice with all his might.
“That’s fine. We have JV guys ready to take that spot.”
I suck air through my teeth because that burn hurt even me. But for some reason this turns Kyle’s ire at me.
“Or,” I say in a sweet little tone now that I have his attention. “You could just man the hell up.”
“You ass?—”
“That’s right. You either quit the team and forfeit your scholarship, or beg some other college to take you in as a late term transfer, or you do your job. Which is it gonna be?” Coach Green folds his arms and levels Kyle with A Look. The one that typically leads to a drill resulting in offerings to the puke barrel.
Kyle mumbles something I’m glad none of the coaches seem to hear, because it’d make us all do ten-minute planks. But the little shit stays in line, so I guess he’s taking the not-outright-quitting route.
Nodding, Coach focuses back on the topic. “That said. The player who has shown the most grit on and off season will be the new captain.”
I nudge my defensive partner. “It’s you, Great Dane.”
“Nope. It’s you, Blondie.” He smirks at me.
“And his job will be to keep up that intensity during this new season, while also infecting the rest of his teammates—and heaven knows this won’t be an easy feat.” He rolls his eyes skyward as if asking for patience. “Anyway, Tatum, you’re it.”
The grin wipes off my face.
Dane starts clapping even though he’s still wearing his gloves. “Congratulations. Your life officially sucks now.”
I don’t appreciate how some of the guys in the coaching staff nod at that.
“I, er…” Kyle and the senior goons are giving me looks that say they’ll try to shave my eyebrows while I sleep or something.
“Don’t be too happy. Bloom, Schwartz, you’re the alternates. Practice dismissed.”
Dane stops celebrating. On my other side, Jamie cringes so hard he’s close to turning into a black hole.
“Ah, shit.”
“Is right,” I murmur.
