Page 7 of Heart Check
Now, he raises a sheepish hand at the team. “I’ll do my best to fill his shoes. They’re pretty big, though.”
The silence in the room turns awkward. Alex and I exchange a glance.
Dan’s a great guy. He’s the kind of coach who cleans up after Red has torn us a new one, reminding us of what we didrightinstead ofwrong, telling us we’ll get back out there and do better next game. Reminding us to be goldfish with no memory of the past, to keep our focus on improving.
But he’s no Red.
I mean, the guy wearsglasses. What kind of cutthroat hockey player wears glasses?
Thank God Noah’s the one who says what we’re all thinking. He’s still leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, but his resting frown has turned into wide-eyed shock. “Dan, you know we love you,” he says. “But are you really gonna be head coach?”
It’s the kind of thing only Noah, with his fresh contract to the Gamblers, could say.
It’s everything the rest of us are thinking.
Coach Red is the one responsible for leading the school to championships for the last six years. He’s the one who coached two Stanley Cup winners. He’s the one who was going to get me on the ice in front of the scouts who can promise me a future. Good as our program is, the scouts come because it’sRed’sprogram—because they were his former players, because he has friends everywhere in the league, because they know the guys coached by him are destined for something big. No one’s coming to games for Dan.
I look at Dan, who’s smiling lightly at Noah. “Sounds like I am” is all he says.
Coach Red would never let Noah get away with that kind of disrespect.
Castillo clears her throat. “Listen, boys. I want you all to win this season as badly as you do. I’ve seen every Hamilton Lakes game since I was a student here myself. Haven’t missed a single one.”
She surveys the room, looking into each of our eyes for a moment.
“This is the very best plan I could come up with. Dan knows the team. He’s been training under Coach Red for years. And you all know as well as I do that we’re not goingto find a better replacement at the last minute. Not now that the season’s started.”
Her tone makes it clear this is final. Her words sink in like a stone dropping to the bottom of my stomach. All the good coaches are attached already. No one’s making the leap at this point.
I look around at the team. Half of them are shell-shocked, mouths hanging open and eyes wide. The other half, the ones who’re starting to realize the reality of the situation, are shaking their heads and muttering to the guys beside them.
I’m stuck somewhere in between. My mind is racing, but I can’t move. And I can’t help thinking: None of these guys are as close as me. None of them have as much to lose.
My dad’s words ring in my ears.Talent is nothing without good luck and hard work.He learned firsthand how one stroke of bad luck can end a career—an MCL tear that required surgery took him out for a whole season at the peak of his game, and there was no recovering from it. From the way Mom tells the story, he took it in stride, starting the restaurant with his savings when it became clear his career was over.
He’s done everything to make sure that doesn’t happen to me. There’s no way he can blame me for Coach Red getting fired, but I’m not looking forward to the conversation about how I’m going to have to compensate for the shit luck so I don’t ruin my season. And the reminder that if I don’t get a good enough scholarship to play in college, there’s always the restaurant waiting for me.You’re good enough to go all the way,he always says.It’s up to you not to mess that up.
Just a few days ago, I’d thought this season was startingwith a good omen. I was skating on fresh ice and my legs were strong and I couldn’t wait for our first game.
But now…
Castillo nods once more before heading to the door. “If I were you, I’d give your new coach full respect. And I’d get to work.”
The door shuts behind her with a deafeningly final click, leaving us all silent in the velvet tiers of the auditorium. I breathe in the dusty aroma hanging in the air. Smells like dreams the curtain came down on.
This is going to be the worst season of my life.
4.HARPER
For everyone else, the LakesideDiner is an after-school haven. They pile into its cracked red booths, order the famous onion rings to share, and sit for hours doing homework or debriefing the gossip from the day. There might be grease on every surface, the windows are fogged from humidity, and it’s definitely not a meal that’s gonna make you feelhealthierwhen you finish—but you’ll sure leavehappier.
For me, it’s just a job, and my feet ache from dashing between my tables and the kitchen. The place is packed today, and we could really use another server, and I’m not even supposed tobehere. But of course Dawson had a hockey emergency, and of course I don’t have anything better to do than cover for him, right?
I wipe down one of my tables with a little more force than strictly necessary. Why am I surprised he even gets preferential treatment around here? One whole wall of the diner is lined with jerseys of famous Hamilton Lakes alumni, their signed napkins framed and mounted underneath, and Randall Dawson is the star centerpiece. There’s no escape from sports worship at the Lakeside.
Unfortunately, I really do need the money if I’m ever going to get out of this town, and Dawson knows it. My eyes are gritty from working late on charm bracelet orders and then cramming in the homework I knew I wouldn’t be able to finish during this shift, but there’s no other option.
The door opens with a gust of autumn wind, a few leaves skittering across the floor. “Hey, Harper,” Liv Williams calls, waving as she slides into a booth with Miguel Aguilar. “Can we get the biggest plate of fries this diner has ever served? We need it after that rehearsal.”
