Page 61 of The Coach

He hesitates and then sighs, “I’m failing a class.”

The words are shocking, mostly because I’m usually appraised of details like that, and if my boys are failing anything, I have to act on it. “Officially?”

No one has said anything to me about him failing, so there’s probably something that can be done for that before I have to put him on a suspension.

“No.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “They gave me a warning and special assignment, but I’m struggling with it.”

“How come?”

He licks his lips and glances away again.

“Ellis,” I start, getting his attention again. “I can’t help you if I don’t know the issue. I want to make sure you have all the resources you need to succeed. Now, what’s the issue?”

“I can’t write.”

I lift a brow and say, “What’s your major?”

“Journalism,” he replies, glancing away. “I thought if hockey ever failed me, I could go into sports journalism or broadcasting.”

“Okay, what do you mean you can’t write?”

He rolls his shoulders. “I can write. It’s just hard for me sometimes. The words get messed up, and my brain gets distracted. I can’t have a single thing going on around me. When I try to study at home, the house is always fucking loud.”

“What about the library?”

His cheeks turn pink at that question. “Too many people.”

I place my hands on my hips and think. “What’s the class?”

“Creative writing.”

“Creative writing for journalism.”

He shrugs and gives me a wide-eyed look. “I just go where my schedule tells me.”

I hum and think. If he needs quiet, that’s easy enough. There are private rooms you can rent in the library. “I’ll look into this and get back to you. Let’s not stress about it, alright?”

He nods, but there’s something else lingering beneath the surface, something he’s not telling me.

“What else?”

He glances back at me. “What do you mean?”

“There’s something else bothering you.”

Lincoln sighs and scratches a hand over his head. “Yeah.”

“Well?”

“Should I be talking to you about this stuff? You’re a hockey coach, not a therapist.”

Most days it feels like both. “Spit it out.”

“It’s a girl.”

Of course it is. I nod my head, not surprised in the least. “What’s up with that?”

“Crew asked her out, and she said yes. But I…”

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