Page 64 of Jaded

“Uh. Right. Crap.”

“His agent called me today, before the game.” Coach focuses on the cigarette as he flicks ash off the end. “We’ll have another gap in our roster. And honestly, I’ve spent so much time studying other teams, other players, trying to fill holes, trying to move money around to come up with good enough offers . . . I don't know what we’ll do.”

He sighs, puffs, sighs again, exhaling smoke this time.

I shift from foot to foot, like I would if I were standing out in the cold trying to keep warm. But the weather’s perfect and I’m not cold. I’m too warm, actually, sweat gathering in the creases of my palms and under my arms.

I’m anxious.

Not super loving this latest development—another player waltzing off to something better. And now I’m overthinking what that might mean for our season, the Ice Out, my career, my general life trajectory . . .

“You’re an outstanding player, James,” Coach says finally. “But we need more than a good captain. We need more than ties. We need—”

He breaks off to draw on the cigarette, drags a hand through his hair, and I realize that this conversation isn’t for my benefit—not really. We’re out here because he’s as worried as I am. He, too, is watching his own career fade into the background.

I wonder what things he’snottelling me. Maybe someone’s threatened his job. Threatened to move or dissolve the team. Maybe it’s already in the works.

“We need a team,” I murmur, “not a bunch of players.”

We need a family, I don’t say. A family with the support of the town behind us.

“We do,” Coach agrees in the same pensive tone.

Maybe that’s why I keep talking. “The way I see it, there are two reasons this team is failing. And if I see it, I know you do too.”

He says nothing, waits for me to continue.

“We have no support from the town. No fans in the stands, no financial support, no high schools asking us to come sign jerseys or work charity events or whatever.”

His jaw flexes, his concession to my accuracy. “No, I suppose not.”

“And because we have no support from the town, we have no support in the team either. Nobody wants to stay here. And why would they? The town is cold and unfriendly—literally and metaphorically. We lose. We have no synergy.”

Another flick of his jaw. “I guess that’s true.”

“But look at the Ice Out . . .” I angle my head up towards the smogged sky so I don't have to face his glare. “Half the town is there—well, okay, not literally, but you know what I mean. There are fans. Support. Skaters. Heart. They got something we don’t, and I think maybe we should find out what it is.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not sure,” I tell him honestly. “But I think maybe the answers to our problems aren’t in the places you're looking, that’s all.”

“You think so?” Coach turns toward me so I can’t escape the dark circles beneath his eyes, the red shot through the white. “Can you bring this team together?”

He stares at me another long minute, neither of us speaking, before he turns away. He flicks his cigarette onto the sidewalk and rubs the toe of his dress shoe against it. What a litterbug!

“I don’t know,” I admit at long last, both of us watching the ash scatter black against the white sidewalk. “I really don’t know.”

But I do know I can sure as hell try.

Chapter 17

Nat

Everyweek,Itellmyself I won’t go back.

That I’m done with the Ice Out, that I’ll clean up and focus and not take the risk.

And every week, I find myself trekking through the dark of Day River’s downtown once again. Skates in my hand and stick over my shoulder. Feels wrong. Feels right.

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