Page 15 of Massacre Monday
“Asshole!”
“Alice Elizabeth!” My mom scolds her, and I smirk at my victory for getting my youngest sister into trouble.
When I set her on her feet, she slaps my chest. I fake a gasp like it hurt. “Terrible mouth on this girl, Mom. She’s only sixteen, and she talks like this? You need to up your parenting skills, Dad,” I tell him as we pile up near the dining table.
My oldest sister Olivia hands me a dish, and I slide it over with the rest, then grab her for a swift kiss on the cheek. “How’s Cunter, Livy? Get rid of him yet?”
She shirks me off with a shove of her shoulder and narrows her eyes. “It’sHunterand no.”
Aiden and I exchange secret glances, our lust for murder heightening. Her boyfriend is a total douchebag and not only because he’sBeta Kappa Eta’spresident. Why dad hasn’t taken care of him is beyond me, but he gave us orders not to touch him. Part of me worries she’s beenappointedto be his, and the thought makes my blood boil.
As we eat, I sense Mom wanting to discuss something, and the awkwardness reminds me of why I haven’t been here in a month. It’s always the same script—the company, plans after graduation,my appointed. “Hockey starting soon?” she asks benignly, but I bet it’s going to lead into something else.
“Yeah. Practice starts next week.”
“I worry about you hurting your head again. And if you’re not pursuing it for your future…”
“I’m not. No interest in that. But I do want to play.” It’s fun. Just nothing I want to make a career out of. Playing, at least. I could see myself doing something with the NHL, but I’m not sure. Besides, according to everyone else, I don’t get a choice.
“You be careful out there. I’ll still support you, you know that.”
“I haven’t gotten a concussion once,” Henry adds. He’s beensuperannoying about getting a scholarship as a freshman starter for the Northview Nighthawks baseball team.
“Maybe you need one,” I tell him.
Dad clears his throat and breaks his conversation with Aiden, the two probably planning for world domination at the corner of the table. “I like that you’re playing this year before you come on board. You can work on your MBA when you start at the office.”
My teeth grit as I stare at my half-finished plate, not hungry anymore.
Mom slaps his elbow and interrupts. “Any news on your appointed, Ryan? Get your letter yet?”
With my eyes still on my dish, I shake my head. “No.”
Mom takes a sip of wine and says cheerfully, “Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be Elina.”
If it is, I may have to veer to the left…
“Fuck!I think Coach is going to make me stay after practice,” Lan says after spitting out his mouth guard. While he skates backward, huffing in deep breaths, he eyes Coach Bell nervously.
He and I are starting forwards and work well together, for the most part. Only when Landon isn’t stuffing his face with candy or late getting to the ice because of fucking random puck bunnies in the weight room. “Bunnies” being plural. Like, all at once.
“Serves you right. You’re slower than a tortoise. Get good,” I say.
He slaps my knee pads with his stick as a warning, and Coach glances at us. With his full chest, he calls out, “Great skills today, Cardell!”
I aim my winning smile his way and return a head nod. “Thanks, Coach! See you tomorrow.” Shoving my glove into Lan’s shoulder, I push him toward the bench.
As soon as we enter the locker room, I rip off my sweaty practice jersey and toss it into the hamper.
“Missed you over the summer, Cardell. Nice moves out there today,” Jax Wilson, our team captain and one of our defenders, says, slapping me on the back. “You going to try for an agent?”
Wiping some of the sweat from my face, I shake my head. “Nah. Not really interested in continuing. Maybe become a scout and travel.” That would be the dream. Live in an RV, tour around the country for prospects, and enjoy my life the way I want. Be free.
“How’s the head? You still getting off balance?”
Once my skates are off, I shrug. “Sometimes, but not too bad. Coach says I gotta start a new cross-training program to help.”
“That’s a good idea.”
