Page 25 of Burner Account

I laughed, shaking my head. Hockey players will be hockey players.

Darren elbowed me. “I still think we should ask the schoolboard if we can put penalty boxes in our classroom.”

I snorted. “You’d spend more time in yours than your kids would.”

“Hey!” He smacked my arm. “I would not!”

“Bullshit you wouldn’t.”

He gestured at the ice. “Have you ever seen a ref go to the box?”

“Ugh. Fine. So you get off on the technicality of being the guy who calls the penalties. Correction, then: you’ddeserveto spend more time in yours.”

Darren huffed, but he didn’t argue. We both knew I was right. He was a great teacher, of course, but all his students learned real fast they could derail a lecture by getting him to go off on a tangent about something unrelated. He’d actually had to postpone a test earlier this semester because two minutes into the review, a couple of the kids had gotten him started on whether Shakespeare had basedRomeo and Julieton an existing play or if it was truly original, which led into how much of the Bard’s work was derivative or possibly even plagiarized. A fascinating subject, to be sure, but not really conducive to helping kids prepare for a test on linear equations.

He was actually an excellent teacher, and for obvious reasons, he related exceptionally well to his kids with ADD and ADHD. Yeah, he might’ve been easy to distract, but he also had a track record of kids with learning disabilities, ADHD, and other neurodivergences passing his classes with flying colors, and not because he went easy on them. So I was pretty sure he could be forgiven for it.

But especially as I watched Tanner and Smedley simmering down, I really was tempted to ask the schoolboard about that penalty box idea.

“You wantto stay for autographs tonight?” Darren asked as we stepped out into the crisp night.

Oh, I did. But I also didn’t. If Tanner stopped, I wouldn’t be able to be subtle about… Well, about anything.

“Nah.” I shook my head. “I still need to grade a few things before I call it a night.”

Darren scoffed. “Ugh. Overachiever.”

“Slacker.”

He gave me a shove, and we both chuckled as we headed down the steps toward the parking lot. “And you got what you wanted anyway. I can’t believe Jeffries gave you a puck.”

I was so glad we were outside and it was relatively dark; I didn’t need to explain to him why I was undoubtedly blushing. “Well, make a better sign next time, and maybe he’ll give you one.”

“I have made better signs than that!” He threw up his hands before stuffing them back into his jacket. “I’ve made way better signs.”

“Mmhmm. Well, the Yellow Jackets are the judge and jury, and…” I held up the puck and waved it in his face.

“You’re such a dick.”

“And you love me.”

He grumbled something I didn’t catch. Probably just as well. We both chuckled and continued toward his car. As Darren drove me home, slogging through the throngs of traffic trying to get to the Liberty Bridge, I discreetly sent a quick text to Tanner.

Isaiah:Great game! Thanks for the puck. Always love watching you fight!

That was true,too—even before I’d realized that I knew him, it had always been fun as hell to watch Tanner get scrappy.

I’d just gotten home half an hour later when Tanner replied, and I settled back on my bed to read his message.

Tanner:LOL Yeah, my mom hates it when I fight. But he was asking for it.

Isaiah:He really was. What a punk.

Tanner:I know, right? So are your students really going to be jealous of the puck?

Isaiah:Oh, absolutely. They go nuts whenever I bring in signed pucks or pictures. A puck tossed to me by a player? Yeah, they’ll love that.

Tanner:I think I would’ve paid more attention in class if my teachers had been into hockey.

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