Page 137 of Until We Burn
“At the Halloween party.” Jordan searches every flap and pocket of his wallet. “I think it fell out while I was fighting that Viper.”
The air goes stiff. The Griffins quiet down, their hands clenching up at the reminder of that disastrous night where fists were bruised and bad blood was settled.
Rowan relents. His hands drop from his hips with a resigned sigh. “Just use mine for today, then.”
I push the doors open. The hum of the HVAC system rises.
Then all I smell is blood.
“Putain de merde.”
Wallace lies on the ice, beaten and bruised beside his damaged zamboni.
“Wallace!”
Luke bolts past me; Wallace’s lunch bag drops to the floor as he rushes onto the ice. He skids and wobbles in his sneakers.
“Luke, be careful!” Rowan shouts.
Luke falls with a harsh thud. But it doesn’t stop him, as he desperately scrambles all the way to Wallace on his hands and knees. Rowan curses under his breath before he darts out of the arena. I watch as Luke lifts Wallace from the ice. Wallace groans, slumping his head against Luke’s shoulder. Dizzying anger steals the breath from my lungs.
A bruise swells on Wallace’s left eye. It trembles, struggling to stay open. Blood streaks down from a cut on his frowning lips. He coughs, wincing hard as he presses a hand to his stomach.
“L-Luke?”
“I’m here,” Luke croaks. Bits of shaved ice cling to his hands as he cradles Wallace’s head.
“I’m here, buddy. We’ll get you some help, okay?”
Luke’s attention snaps back to us. His eyes go black with anger. “What the fucking hell are you standing around for?Call for help!”
Rowan bursts through the doors.
“I just called the paramedics,” he pants. “They’re gonna be here in a minute.”
Our shoulders drop in relief, yet apprehension still winds around our necks like a noose. The majority of the medical services at DHU are strategically placed near Balfur Arena because most injuries happen here. But time feels like it’s crawling as the boys crowd around Wallace, trying to keep him conscious before the paramedics get here.
“What the hell happened?”
I whirl around. Coach Dawson runs onto the ice, while Coach Clark furiously pushes his wheelchair towards Rowan and me. He shuts his eyes and irritably pinches the bridge of his nose when Rowan and I tell him what happened.
“Go check the locker rooms and see if there's any damage there. I’ll keep an eye out here.”
I used to feel relief whenever I swiped my student ID and walked through the locker room doors.
Now I feel sick.
Yellow graffiti streaks the red and black walls of the main hallway. They slash through the motto the Griffins lived by:The ones who persevere are the ones who claim it all.
Except there’s nothing to claim. Not anymore.
All the puck display frames are shattered. Pucks and glass shards litter the floor next to Jordan and Eric’s dented student IDs. Banners celebrating our championship titles are stripped down from the walls. In the equipment room, globs of glue damage all the hockey sticks and helmets.
My breath trembles and my hands shake when I see the cubbies.
All of our jerseys are slashed through.
Tears burn in my eyes as I reach for mine. The seven and the eight slump off the locker hanger, torn in two in my hands. Uncle Manu’s words weaken into a hollow noise in the back of my head.
