Page 26 of Brick Wall
“You have fun last night?”
I poke my head through the neck hole of my shirt to see Van taking a seat on the bench in front of me.
“Yeah, it was better than I expected,” I say. I’m not lying; it’s the truth. It’s just not the whole truth.
“Lucky you,” he says, fiddling with his own water bottle.
I blink at him. “Last I saw, there were half a dozen girls hanging all over you and Santos. You’re telling me you two just played bartender last night?”
Van nods. “Yep. I just wasn’t feeling it, you know?”
“I get it,” I say, scooping my water bottle off the bench as he follows me out the door and down the hall. Van spent thesummer at the hockey house, same as I did. He’s a killer forward and an even better friend. We didn’t have any heart-to-hearts this summer, but even I can tell he’s been restless. Maybe it’s the pressure of senior year and what comes next. Whatever it is, I have a feeling that ice is the cure.
We make our way to the refill station. It’s all part of this upgrade we got from some donor after our run at the Frozen Four last spring. This side of the Wolf’s Den looks nothing like the locker room or even the arena. Down here it’s all white tile and shiny chrome. I’m not really into aesthetics, but the water’s cold and that’s good enough for me.
Two guys are crowded around the water station, looking at it like it’s a rocket about to launch into space. They turn their attention to the wall of windows that lines the hall and reveals set after set of brand-new gym equipment.
“Damn,” the taller guys says, turning to the blond. “It looks like a freaking showroom.”
“Sure as hell does,” Van agrees. I envy this guy his chill demeanor. It’s not that I’m an asshole or anything. I’m just not the super friendly type. I’m here to win games. I won’t flip you off if I see you, but I probably won’t strike up a conversation, either. Not true for Van. He’s pretty much the welcoming committee around here, and that’s probably good. I’d just give everybody a head nod while Ollie would regale them with stories of his escapades. Van? He’s right smack in the middle, which is probably a good place to be.
I recognize the first guy as Will, one of my new housemates and the guy I now know way too much about. The stockier guy has got to be Dean. He’s another winger and he’s set to move into the hockey house later today.
It’s the start of a new season and I need it to be the best one yet, so I take Vandaele’s lead. “It’s awesome. But do you think we could find some alumni who want to dump a ton of money into repairing our house? Because it could use an upgrade.”
“What it could really use is a bulldozer,” the guy who must be Dean jokes. “I was putting some shelves up above my desk and after a few taps of the hammer, the freaking drywall started crumbling off.”
“Hammer? That’s your first mistake. You gotta use those sticky hooks.”
Van nods approvingly. “Norris is right. I’m pretty sure our house is partially held together by those little sticky hooks.”
“That might be the problem,” Dean says, and I can’t hold back a laugh.
The door to the locker room opens and Santos, one of our captains, pokes his head out. “You guys trying to piss Coach off before the season starts?”
“Shit, we better go,” I say, leading the guys back in.
“What are you talking about?” Dean asks, glancing at his watch. “We’ve got ten minutes.”
I look over my shoulder and laugh. “You will soon learn that Coach starts every meeting early. Because if you’re not early, you’re late.”
“For real?” Dean asks as we shuffle back in and take our seats.
“Yep. The man hates tardiness, believe me. I skated enough extra laps freshman year to drill that fact into my head,” Van says, running his hands through his hair.
We step inside and take our spots on one of the empty benches. A few more guys filter in before Coach’s door opens. He’s got Anderson and Novotny with him. Chatter dies down as the meeting starts.
I know what he’s going to say. We talked about it all morning. Coach Baylor’s a man of few words, but he has a point to make about what he expects this season and I scan the room just to make sure everyone’s locked in. I need a winning season as much or more than anyone in this room and I’m not doing anything to fuck up my chances of bringing a national title home.
“Gentleman, this will be brief, because those of you who know me know I’d rather skate than talk. But I want to take a moment to welcome you all back. We had a great year last year, but this year promises to be better. We’ve got a lot of returning players and some new faces that bring the skills we need. We’re going to work hard, and when we’re done with that, we’re going to work even harder. Get used to looking at my ugly mug, gentlemen, because you’re going to see it for the next seven months. Being part of this team means more than just winning games. It’s mandatory study hall for the new guys, and anyone else whose grade falls below a 75% in any course. It means regular meetings with our trainers and nutritionists. It means working out, being on time, and giving it your very best effort. It means we’re more than a team; we’re a family. It means working together and doing your part in whatever capacity the coaching staff determines is best for the team. We work best when we work as one cohesive unit. Any questions?”
No one’s dumb enough to question Coach about his standards, so he moves on.
“You’ve no doubt seen the new weight room, and I hope it’s the first of many positive changes around this place. Don’t get me wrong—I love this arena and all the history within these walls. But this old place is due for a few upgrades, andthose will be made possible by the generosity of donors and alumni. And to that point, you will be asked to attend some fundraising functions this year and do some community outreach to show your commitment to the town of Bainbridge. Let me make this clear: those things are not optional. You want to work out in a weight room that puts most commercial gyms to shame? You want to skate on this ice? Then you’ll do as you’re asked, and you’ll represent us well. Do I make myself clear?”
There’s a chorus of agreement as Coach turns to go. I’m about to pull Coach Novotny over to see if he has time to look at some video I took of myself while I was warming up earlier, but then Coach Baylor turns back to us.
“There is one more thing, actually. On a personal note…my niece, Margo, just moved in with Jules and me. She, uh, transferred in from the West Coast and will be finishing her senior year at Bainbridge. She’s got a busy schedule, but I have no doubt you’ll see her around here from time to time. I want you to make her feel welcome, of course, but not too welcome, you get me? Like I said, we’re a family, so consider Margo your sister. And that means hands off. No flirting, no winking, and sure as hell no dating my niece. Got it?”
