Page 121 of Practice Makes Perfect
I sit, the chair creaking under my weight. “Everything okay, Coach?”
Barrett sighs, a sound like air slowly leaking from a tire. “I’m disappointed.”
My stomach drops. “We’re tied. We’re not losing.”
“I’m not talking about the score.” He leans back, studying me with those pale, unblinking eyes. “When your mother suggested I make you co-captain?—”
“Wait.” I blink, the words not quite computing. “My motherwhat?”
Coach continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “I thought it was a good opportunity. You’re a good player. And with Mike sidelined, we needed leadership.”
The rushing in my ears drowns out everything else. My mother. Suggested. She suggested I be made co-captain? Like Iwas some eight-year-old who needed her to talk to the teacher about putting me in the school play?
“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “Back up. My mother suggested it? What the hell does that mean?”
Barrett shifts in his chair, suddenly finding his clipboard fascinating. “After Mike’s injury, she sent me an email. Said that with him benched, you should step into the leadership role. That it would look good to scouts and help the rest of the team on the ice.”
Each word lands like a body-blow. “When was this?”
“End of fall-semester.”
“And you just… went along with it?” My voice comes out low and dangerous. “You let mymothermake a call like that?”
Barrett frowns. “Look, I agreed with her assessment. You’re the best player I’ve got left, and I figured you’d whip the team into shape.”
“Is that what all those extra freshman practices were?” I barely recognize my own voice. “Letting me ‘whip them into shape’ while you checked out?”
His eyes narrow. “Watch your tone, Garcia.”
“My tone?” I stand up so fast the chair nearly topples. “You let mymothermake roster decisions. Do you understand how fucked up that is?”
“I didn’tlether do anything. I made the decision.”
“After she suggested it!”
“What difference does it make?” He stands now too, getting in my face. “You think you don’tdeserveto be co-captain? Is that what this is about?”
The laugh that escapes me is brittle. “This isn’t about whether Ideserveit. This is about you letting a parent influence team decisions.My mother.”
Every moment I’ve spent doubting myself takes on an ugly new light. And worse, the pride I’d finally started to feel in doingthe job well? Gone. Obliterated by the knowledge that I didn’t earn it. That my mother paved the way, like she always tries to do.
“Your mother had nothing to do with the choice, Garcia. I would have picked you anyway.”
“Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“I saidbullshit, Coach.” My hands are shaking now, but not from fear. Rage. Pure, concentrated rage, aimed at him and my mother. “If you were going to pick me anyway, why did it take her email? Why not do it the day Mike got hurt? Why wait until she suggested it?”
His silence is answer enough.
“You’ve checked out, Coach. Ever since your seperation, you’ve been phoning it in. Missing practices. Giving us the same canned speeches that I could recite for you. Hell, half the timeI’mthe one running drills while you’re in here doing God knows what.”
“That’s enough.” His face has turned an impressive shade of red.
“No, I don’t think it is. We’re supposed to be a team. Team decisions are supposed to be made for the betterment of the team, not to please parents. And what about Mike? Did anyone consider what it would do to him, being demoted to ‘co-captain’ instead of captain?”
“Altman kept his title. We just needed someone on the ice?—”
