Page 78 of Jaded

Still, I can’t stop my gaze from drifting to the empty locker beside me, like I expect him to pop back up—and what? Apologize for leaving to go do his job? Tell me he’d love to go on a hike and then make out with me up against a tree?

“Yo, not bad, New Guy.” Everton smacks my shin pad with his stick. “I think the fans might have liked you.”

“Shut up, Ever.” I flash him an overly cheery grin. “That sounds like a compliment.”

“Man, it was nice having actual people in the stands,” Charlie sighs. His eyes gravitate towards me. “They must’ve been really excited to see our new captain.”

I shrug, then turn my megawatt grin on him. “What can I say? I got a pretty face.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s it, man.”

“I don’t care what it is,” says Devereaux. “As long as they come back.”

And for once, I let myself be high—for whatever brief amount of time it lasts—because I so rarely get to feel like this. High and free, drunk on life, on victory and performance, on connection and this silly foolish little crush that’ll almost certainly end in my doom.

That is, until Coach Ethan appears in the locker room doorway. “James. Let’s go.”

So then, I’m fidgeting in the chair in front of Coach’s desk. I haven’t even showered yet, just hastily donned my drylands clothes.

Naturally, our little stand-off in the locker room wasn’t the end of things—but after how the game went today, I’m hoping he’ll be singing a different tune.

We won.

The crowd loved us.

Demanded more.

Bought tickets. Bought food. Filled the stands.

We goddamn won.

But the nerves still make me nauseous as I wait for Coach to make the first move. Finally, he looks up from the screen of his laptop and sighs. “I don’t condone how you did it, but I guess it did work.”

“I’ve never been particularly mainstream.” I stare at my laced-together fingers in my lap. “It’s both a bug and a feature.”

“Well, regardless of whatever it is,” Coach’s voice assumes a sterner tone, “I’d appreciate being included in your stuntsbeforethey become sensationalized over social media.”

I wince. Well, okay. Yeah. He’s got a point there. And maybe that’s why I sit up a little straighter and look him dead in the eye. “I think we needmore.”

“The Ice Out is a bunch of losers. Hacks!” Coach says. Again. “A bunch of washed-out, boozed-up, angryhacks.”

“Hacks who would die for this town, for this game,” I insist, keeping my voice firm, “who are in it for the long haul.”

Coach sighs. “I’m only doing one second chance this time. Next time, talk to me first.”

“Loud and clear, Coach.”

Chapter 19

Nat

IfeellikeIwitnessed a miracle.

I stare through the glass at the freshly cut ice. Everyone else has gone home for the night, so it’s just me. Me and the bleachers and the ice. I thought about stealing a private skate, but I don’t want to cut the ice again or keep the lights on longer than I have to.

So instead, I sit up here. Pondering.

I saw the Dingoes win—no, not just win. I saw them rile a crowd. Own it. Dominate it. Take back what they lost years ago when Jesse left.

---