Page 15 of Puck It

She shouldn't have said a word. Every time I think of it, my blood pressure goes up. Everybody knows you stay quiet in a situation like that. Never, ever open your mouth to offer information. Well, I guess not everybody knows that, after all. Growing up, it was practically part of our code. Silence. If they don't have you on camera, they don't have anything. They're waiting for you to say something stupid and make their job easier. Okay, so we're not dealing with law enforcement now, but the idea is the same.

I can't even count the number of guys I knew who went down not because of proof or eyewitnesses or anything like that. They ended up getting booked all because they couldn't keep their mouths shut. All the cops had were suspicions. But they’re trained to make a person feel like they're cornered. To take away all their hope. They make it seem like they're your friend and they're only trying to help you out. They want you to see how hopeless everything looks so they can offer to help.Just tell us what we want to know, and this can all be over. I guess if you catch a kid and scare the hell out of them for long enough, confessing starts to look like a good idea.

“Hey! Great job out there today.” Max slaps me on my back as he passes my locker.

“Yeah, man. You too.”

“Heading out to the bar?” he asks.

“I don't know. Maybe not.” Definitely not. I won't shut the idea down, though. He will only want to know why.

He grimaces and shakes his head. “Come on, man. I'm trying to live vicariously here.”

“Sorry about that. But hey, there's plenty of guys around here ready to go and party. Live through them.”

“I will, while I'm changing diapers later on.” But he's grinning when he continues through the locker room, waving his goodbyes before heading out to his family. Strange. This isn't the first time we've had a discussion like that. Usually, by the time he walks away, I'm glad I don't have a family to report to. This is around the time I normally thank whoever's up there keeping an eye on me for not tying me down to a wife and kids. I'm usually more grateful than ever to have my freedom.

Now, I almost envy the son of a bitch. He can pretend all he wants like he's sorry he can't go out and party, but I see through it now. I see how glad he is. Even eager to get home to the people who matter. And if things hadn't fallen apart like they did, I'd have something to look forward to tonight, too. Someone to hurry home to.

She shouldn't have said a word. Damn it. Why didn't she know better?

Because she didn't have to know better. Not everybody grew up the way I did. She's a good girl, a girl who's always followed the rules and done the right thing. We are probably the firsttime she's ever gone against the so-called right thing to do. No wonder she didn't know any better.

I could have told her what to do if I’d had the chance. I could have coached her through it.

I mean, I've been there. More than once. One experience in particular is burned into my memory, and it plays in my mind's eye as I tie my shoes. The scariest night of my life, even though I did everything I could to play it off like it meant nothing. I've never fought so hard in my life—not on the ice or off it.

I took a lot of chances back in the day. Chances that now make me cringe and wonder what I was thinking. I was a different person back then. My friends think I’ve got rough edges now? They don't have the first clue. The shit I got into would make even the worst things Pete's ever done look like recess at the local preschool. We took a lot of risks—selling powder and pills, stealing from other dealers. That was true danger. I was risking my life every time I left the house, walking around with a target on my back. I did what I had to do to survive on the streets and make a little money for myself. I wasn't the only one, either.

But that night, that terrible night, I didn't do anything wrong. Alright, so I was rolling around in a car without a license plate like a smacked ass and I knew I was risking getting pulled over, but I went out with my buddy Joey anyway to grab a six pack. We didn't have any plans, really. We were only going to cruise around and drink a little.

Unfortunately, according to the cops who later pulled us over, we happened to pick up the beer from a store that was robbed shortly afterward. I was driving a similar car, and we still had the empty cans to deepen the suspicion and give the cops a reason to bring us in for questioning. That was all they needed.A car with a similar make and the fact that we were drinking beer that had to be purchased somewhere, right? I guess if I were doing their job, it would seem open and shut.

For once, I hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, I wasn't old enough to legally drink and shouldn't have been behind the wheel with beer in my system, but I didn't rob anybody.

And twenty-four hours later, that was still my story. Twenty-four hours without water. Without food. Without a trip to the bathroom. They were that dead set on getting a confession.

They didn't get it from me. They had nothing on me. I could barely keep my head up and thought my bladder was going to explode, but I never said a word.

Joey, on the other hand? Joey got seven years in prison. Because he couldn’t stay quiet.

Looking back, I could say he paid his debt to society for the things we did and things he did when I wasn't even around, but he didn't have to go to prison for that. And if I had buckled like he did, I wouldn't be here now, pulling on my jacket and preparing to go home for the night.

I could be going to Harlow’s, instead. Why wouldn't she at least listen to me? Because she's a decent person. She's honest. Why should she have to pay this way? Was our crime that unforgivable?

I'm still mulling it over as I leave, scanning the parking lot. When my heart sinks I know it's because I was hoping to see her out here. I should know better.

What I do find, though, grabs my attention. Soren is wandering over to Ash's car, where Ash waits for him. Neither of themlook like they're feeling as happy or positive as the rest of the team after the game. When Ash spots me, he lifts a hand and waves me over. I don't waste any time, crossing the lot quickly, reaching them before Ash clears his throat and looks around to make sure nobody's listening in.

“We've got to do something.”

There's no need to ask who he's talking about. Why waste time asking questions like that when there are much more important questions to ask.

Such as exactly what we're supposed to do to help her.

12

SOREN

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