Page 84 of Anatomy of a Player

I leaned around him and tried to kill the zombie before it infected me. Lately I sort of felt like a zombie—without the penchant for brain-eating—but I was starting to feel bad for killing creatures that just wanted to be left alone with their food and misery. Was that so bad?

“Bro, you haven’t gone to any of your classes in days,” Dane said.

“Thanks for the newsflash.” I punched the button, letting out a “yes” when the zombie’s head exploded. Hey, it was him or me.

Dane lifted one of the beer bottles and rolled it around like he’d never seen one before and wanted to make a thorough examination. Yeah, the beer helped with the mind-numbing when the videogame didn’t do it. “Yesterday at practice, you told McCaffrey that you were going to classes today.”

“I’ll tell you that I’ll go, too, if it’ll get you to shut up about it.”

Dane jerked the PlayStation controller out of my hand. The zombie I was fighting bit into me and red splashed across the screen.

I flopped back against the couch cushions. “I just died, thanks a lot.”

“Yeah, well, I’m about to kick your ass in the real world, so why don’t you focus?”

This was about to get big brother-y, so I scanned the beer bottles and picked up the last one I’d been working on. Luke warm and cheap enough that it kind of tasted like piss, but it would do the job anyway.

For two and a half years I’d worked to prove I could do this college thing. Here I was now, being the screw-up most people thought I’d be from the beginning. Honestly, there was some relief in letting go and embracing it. In becoming a statistic. Who was I trying to impress? The only person who cared if I graduated was myself, and right now, I didn’t care all that much, either.

Even better, I didn’t have to care about Mom’s impending marriage. I could just drink and play hockey until I flunked out. Maybe by the time that happened, I’d find enough motivation to figure out what else to do with my life. Hell, maybe I’d just enter the draft and take my chances. Backup degrees were pointless when you couldn’t complete them anyway.

Dane sat on the coffee table so I couldn’t escape him. I debated if it would be easier to nod and pretend I’d listen, or go to my room and lock him out. Laziness won. “At the beginning of all this,” Dane said, and I could tell he was gearing up for a big speech. “I thought that bet would light a spark and get you back to your old self. I thought it was working, but I realize now that the bet wasn’t what was working. It was her.”

I flinched at the mention of Whitney, even though he didn’t say her name.

Right after everything went to hell, I’d wanted to blame Dane. For turning an offhanded remark about the new reporter into a bet. For having such a loud mouth that Whitney found out about my moment of competitive stupidity in the worst possible way. But I knew it wasn’t his fault.

It was me, being an idiot.

“You’ve gotta fix it,” Dane said, shoving my knee.

Well, that wasn’t as big a talk as I thought it would be. It wasn’t as easy to ignore his intense stare as I thought it’d be, either. The guy knew me too damn well. And knowing people led to hurting them, and them hurting you right back.

I sat forward, the neck of the beer bottle dangling between my fingers. “I tried. I put it all out there. She shoved it all back. She doesn’t want me, and after everything I’ve done, I don’t deserve her.”

“No, you probably don’t.” Dane gestured to me. “Not if you’re going to flunk out of school and let down your teammates and turn into…every one of your mom’s loser boyfriends.”

I lurched forward and gripped Dane’s T-shirt in my fists. The movement rocked the coffee table, sending bottles crashing together like bowling pins. My muscles shook with contained rage. Dane and I had gotten on each others’ nerves plenty of times, and we’d had our arguments—usually when we were on opposing sides of hockey scrimmages—but I’d never wanted to physically harm him the way I did now.

“Go ahead,” Dane said. “Why don’t you just complete the process? Hit me and go back to your beer.”

“I swear youwantme to hit you. What the hell, man?”

“You’ve worked your ass off to get here, and now you’re going to just give up? Most of the kids in our neighborhood won’t ever get a chance at college, and if it weren’t for hockey, we wouldn’t be here, either. This might be as far as we go, so we need to make sure we don’t end up back there with dead-end jobs.”

Did he think I didn’t know that? It was what had motivated me for two and a half years. But it wasn’t enough anymore, because when I tried to think about my future, all I saw, all I felt, was emptiness.

“So what Iwant, is for you to prove that you’re better than those guys,” Dane continued. “That you deserve to be here, and you deserve that girl, so you can stop moping around—before you screw up your life.”

I let go of him and ran my hands through my hair. That was more like the big speech I’d expected, yet I hadn’t expected it to go like that at all.

“Now that I finally have your attention…” He dug a newspaper out of his backpack and slapped it to my chest. “Your girlfriend’s article came out today.”

I’d expected to hear about it on Monday, but when I’d looked online, the sports section was from last week’s game, and there weren’t any new stories with Whitney’s name. In the moment, I’d meant what I’d said about not caring about the article because she was more important.

But moment of truth…I worried about what she’d written. Which of my teammates it would hurt, or the coaching staff. Not to mention how many of my secrets would be printed for everyone to read.Who knows what horrible things she’s put in here.

My throat tightened. I’d told her so much, and the entire time she’d been planning on using it against me. Hypocritical or not, I experienced a twinge of anger that she hadn’t been honest from the beginning.

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