Page 77 of The Home Grown
“You’ll notice here I’ve got my first line forwards the same as last season, we’re planning on mixing the lines a little between second, third and fourth—with the introduction of Danny Owens—” there’s a whoop and cheer from several guys as Danny grins awkwardly, “—but it’s our defensive lines that have the biggest change.”
I swallow, willing my dry throat to give me some grace as I watch Coach move from left to right, his arm extending as he points towards my name at first, then?—
“First pair stays the same, but our second pair is Betts and Langdon.”
I’m fucking paired with Langer.
There’s no way.
A heavy knot of dread tightens in my stomach, like I’m about to pass out. This was a scenario I never thought possible.
“I know this wasn’t what we were expecting, but I’ve had to make a few changes,” Coach says, moving directly towards the screen and pointing at a list of names on the far right titled ‘LTIR’.
Honestly, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own mess, I haven’t even considered the long-term injured reserves list.
“Unfortunately, Hill is out for an extended period, but we were lucky to have had two strong D-men on trial this week. It was a simple choice to make and even though we’re pairing you guys,” Coach looks between Langer and me, “we can see how things go.”
There’re mumbles of congratulations around the room, but Coach isn’t done.
“Just another point to note—there are some really talented players on our LTIR—should they become fit to skate, we will re-evaluate. Your spot could quickly become their spot if your performance drops. That goes for everyone in this room.”
There’s a mutual agreement of nods before Coach continues.
“Netminders then … Greer, Sutherland, and Callaghan.”
But it’s the part next that has my palms sweating. Coach flicks over to the next slide where we’re presented with a list of dates: training, media days … but worst of all, that social event he was referring to.
“Mark your calendars, boys. I’ll get it sent out via email so there are no excuses, but here’s the agenda.”
I scan the slide, trying to work out how long I’ve got until I have to come clean or fake my own death.
Four weeks.
“Right, enough of that, I think you’ve all earnt yourselves the afternoon off. Relax, take it easy and enjoy your league games this weekend. I appreciate some of you have travelling to do so until next time?—”
I tune out, dropping my head into my hands, only for Danny to nudge me merrily.
“We’ve done it, mate. Do you want to be the one to tell Cap? Or should I? Oh—or maybe we can call him together.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I say through gritted teeth as people around me file out.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy?” Danny says.
“Of course I am, but?—”
I flick my eyes towards the schedule, still on the big screen.
“Ah, shit, yeah. The wholeMrsthing,” he says, dropping his voice. “Well, I guess that’s something to figure out.”
He’s not wrong.
What the hell am I going to do?
ELLIE
“He asked you to do what?”
Every fifth Friday, my friend Jessica makes the two-hour round trip to visit me at the salon, always my last appointment of the day and the reason is purely selfish: she won’t let anyone else wax her lady parts.
