Page 131 of Puck Me Secretly

“That’s bullshit,” someone muttered.

I turned and left the meeting, with one intention. I needed to find Dad.

I foundDad sitting in his office. “Dad, where were you?”

“I had to take care of some stuff.”

“It’s not like you to miss the player meeting. This is a big game.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what happened,” he opened a desk drawer looking for something.

“Baxter wants the players to play a clean game.”

Dad froze for a moment. Then he pulled something out of his desk. A bottle of anti-acids. “Well, you know we stay out of coaching decisions.”

“Dad, you know what the last game against Minnesota was like. No one likes to fight, but if we don’t defend ourselves, our players will get hurt.”

“Baxter has his reasons.”

“His reason is he wants Max to be a sitting duck in that game.”

Dad popped two pills into his mouth and chewed. “Why are you always so concerned about Logan?”

“I’m the monkey on his back, remember? Besides, he’s our star player. If he gets hurt, we will all suffer.”

“Rory, you need to learn to step back. Everyone has their role and Baxter’s role is to call the shots on how we play the game so we win.”

“You can’t tell me Baxter is making this decision to win. He’s making this decision because he wants Max out of the game.”

“You don’t know that.”

“How do you not know that?”

Dad sighed. “Logan has brought nothing but issues to this team since he arrived.”

I scoffed. “He’s the sole reason we’re ranked number two in our division.”

“Let it be, okay? Some things are out of our hands.”

I resisted the urge to scream. “Fine.”

My phone buzzed. It was Calder.

Calder: At the front gate. Tickets?

I stomped to the front gate. Dad’s attitude was both baffling and confounding. Why was he giving Baxter so much power to make such bad decisions? Tonight terrified me. If we played a clean game and let Minnesota take as many hits as they could, Max would not make it through the game. What was going on with Dad? He seemed so distant and distracted. This wasn’t like him.

Calder and six of his buddies were waiting at the gate. I handed him the tickets.

“Thanks, Roar,” Calder grinned at me.

“You’re different,” I studied him. “You’re sober!”

He shrugged. “Seeing Kat after the game. She hates it when I’m drunk.”

“You know your relationship with her freaks me out.”

He slung his arm around me. “So how bloody do you think this game will be?”

---