Page 92 of Shutout
This time, I drop everything and follow him out into the hallway. I’m in my socks and sans jersey, the pads still cinched tight around my elbows, chest, and shoulders. A mix of sweat and water drips down my face and I try to wipe it with my hand. “What’s up, Coach?”
“I’m going to have to replace you as team captain.”
“What?” I shout, my body stiffening like a plank. “What did I do wrong? The team’s been playing well. Even the seniors have stopped talking smack.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Actually, I just have major news for you.” He makes a dramatic pause I don’t appreciate, and whilemy expression darkens, his slowly splits into a smile. “You’re being called up to the pros, son.”
The wordsthe prosseem to echo around us. They keep bouncing against the walls and hitting my head with violence, and even then I don’t process them. I can’t reason at all.
What does react is my body. My stomach takes off like a cart being pulled at several times the force of gravity around rollercoaster loops.
In contrast, my heart plummets to the floor. And it keeps going until it disappears all the way down the center of the earth. The pro team is in a different state—shit, it’s clear across the country on the west coast. That’s as far as it can possibly get from Olivia without having to use a passport.
I stagger. Coach takes it as normal shock. He pats my shoulder—actually, my pads. “I know. It’s a big deal. It’s not everyday that college kids get called straight up to the pros without going through the farm team. Especially when it isn’t even the playoffs.”
My eyes close. I sat with Dane at O’Malley’s just last week, watching the team that drafted me struggle. “They’ve had a lot of injuries this year,” I say with a faraway voice.
“That’s right.” He expels a long breath. “It’s going to suck for our team to lose you. Hell, it may cost us the season. But it’s your chance, Tatum.”
“Right.” I swallow hard and shake my head. “Um, do I have a choice in this?”
Coach Green does a double take. “A what? What other alternative do you have?”
“Staying?”
He gives me a look like I’m shitting him. “Sure, you can choose to stay in your Division I team and maybe carry it to Frozen Four for two years in a row. Then you could either get dropped by your pro team, or go to the farm team. And thenthere, you certainly have the choice of working your ass off, or slacking off and getting dropped like Liam Richards.”
“Whoa, what?” My head’s reeling from the barrage of words coming out of Coach’s pie hole, but especially that last part.
“So, sure. You have the choice of squandering away the opportunities that come to you. Be my guest.”
I lift a shaky hand and run it through my wet hair. “I still want to think about it.”
“Fine, but I do have to tell your father because you’re still a minor.”
“Okay.” Before he leaves, I add. “And Coach? Can we please not tell the team yet? I don’t want to cut their momentum.”
He jams his hands in the pocket of his official sweats. “Fine by me. But you can only hide it as long as it takes for your pro team to make the announcement.” He says this, one hundred percent sure that I’m moving up to the NHL, no ifs or buts.
I watch his retreating back for a moment, my lungs working even harder than if I was in the middle of a shift.
I don’t know how I manage to take myself back to the locker room to keep getting undressed. Most of the guys have already hit the showers, except for a couple of seniors who give me nasty looks. They probably heard. Now the whole team’s going to find out.
I lean back. How should I tell Liv?
Actually, the more important question is, how can I tell Liv I’m in love with her and also ask her to get into a long distance relationship with me?
A few minutes later, I use the cover of the shower spray to hide the fact I’m crying like a freaking baby. The guys would give me so much shit if they knew, but no one’s paying attention to me. They’re chatting about the goals we scored, the saves Jamie made, the sick deke Dane made in the third, theparty they’re going to crash from the engineering kids. I have to brace myself against the wall so I don’t crumble.
Who knew that getting everything I’ve been working for could feel so crushing?
Unlike yesterday, I take so long to shower that Dane’s already toweling off when he asks, “You okay, blondie?”
“Yep.” I say in a snappy way. “I’m all good. You can go ahead of me.”
“Okay…”
I basically turn into a prune. That’s as long as it takes me to wait for everybody to leave. I plop on the bench, still wearing only a towel. My elbows fall to my knees and I lean forward to rub my face, my hair, and my face again. My heart must’ve returned from wherever the hell it went when Coach dropped the news, and now it thumps painfully in my chest.
