Page 14

Chapter 14

ZACK

I practically float home from Amber’s apartment, completely in a daze.. I had gone to Amber’s apartment with half a plan—figure out how to work together, keep things professional, coexist without complications

Instead, I lay my heart bare, and even more surprisingly, it turns out that Amber feels the same way about me. Somehow I’d never even considered that my feelings might be returned. But here we are.

It’s not going to be easy. I already told Amber about a few of my concerns, but she doesn’t seem to think they’re too serious. Still, there are a lot of obstacles between us and a perfect relationship. We still haven’t even put a label on what’s going on between us.

Who knows how serious Amber is willing to get? Will she be guarded, afraid I’ll hurt her again? Will I be? She never reached out—not even once during the rest of our senior year, and not the summer after either.

Then again, I wasn’t exactly easy to find, with my head buried in school, work, and hockey.

The look on her face when I started rambling about my feelings had me convinced that she is going to throw me out of her apartment. But then she grabs my hand—steady, sure, eyes burning with something that knocks the wind out of me. And I know it’s real. Whatever this is… she feels it too. How could she not? It’s the most real thing I’ve ever felt.

I barely sleep, too wound up from the conversation with Amber. Eventually, I give up and decide to just get to the rink early to have a little time to myself. I need to get back in the zone before facing my teammates… and before I see Amber again.

I've spent weeks convincing myself this couldn't happen. But now, I realize it already has…

I suit up and lace up my skates, hoping some time on the ice will clear my head. As I begin to skate in long, lazy circles across the fresh ice, my mind drifts back to ten years ago.

It’s three weeks until Homecoming. The school paper came out today, and everyone is passing it around excitedly, checking the nominations for Homecoming Court.

Amber runs up to me between classes, waving the paper in her hand. “Harrison! We got nominated for King and Queen!”

“What?” I grab the paper out of her hand and flick to the section on Homecoming. Sure enough, there we are, our names in black and white next to the rest of the popular kids. “Wow. That’s amazing!”

“Isn’t it?” Amber wraps her arm around my waist, and I throw mine across her shoulders. Together, we walk to class. “I guess there are some perks to dating one of the most popular guys in school. I didn’t think anyone even knew who I was.”

“How could they miss you?” I tug playfully on her bright red hair, and she laughs. “I’m happy you’re so happy,” I tell her, and I mean it.

I don’t care about these kinds of stupid popularity contests, but it means a lot to Amber. For her sake, I’m glad we’re on that list.

At hockey practice, after school, Coach Johnson pulls me aside. “I’ve got a huge opportunity for you, Colt.” He pulls out a letter with an official-looking logo at the top. “You’ve been chosen to compete in an invitation only tournament in Minnesota!”

“Really? What about the rest of the team?” I ask, and Coach shakes his head.

“You’ve been invited as an individual. It’s a huge honor. The tournament is being hosted by the Minnesota Blizzard, and there will definitely be college and pro scouts there. You can’t miss it.” Coach Johnson hands me the letter, and I read through it eagerly.

My stomach sinks. “Coach… this tournament is the same weekend as Homecoming.”

Coach Johnson scoffs. “Homecoming? Kid, the scouts don’t care if you’re King of the dance floor. You want a shot at D1, you show up. They’re inviting the best hockey players in the region to this tournament. They expect you to be all in.”

“All in,” I repeat. I take a moment to weigh my options. If I want to go to college, I need to get a hockey scholarship.

My mom will never be able to afford tuition, and I don’t want to saddle her ,or myself, with any more debt. My grades are passable, but we all know hockey is my only real shot.

I’m good enough to go pro someday — play in the minor leagues, at least. But the only way to get signed to a pro team is to go to a Division 1 school, or get drafted right out of high school And the only way to do that is to get my stick in front of scouts. Scouts like the ones at big-deal tournaments like this one.

I really don’t have a choice. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Coach Johnson slaps me on the back. “Good choice, kid. I’ll send you the info so you can make plans.”

I try not to think about the added expense this tournament is going to be. Hopefully it’ll be cheaper than renting a suit for a school dance.

And this is for my future, I keep telling myself. I have to make sacrifices to succeed. I just hope Amber will see it the same way.

The next day, I make a visit to Mr. Higgins, the English teacher who runs the school paper. I explain my situation and tell him that I need to be removed from the Homecoming Court nominations. “I’m not going to be in town, it should really go to someone who can actually be there to enjoy it.”

I explain about the tournament and how big a deal it is.

Mr. Higgins nods. “I understand. Just don’t forget to take a break every once in a while, or you’ll burn yourself out. Still, congratulations on the tournament. You should be proud of yourself!”

And I am proud of myself until I get around to talking to Amber. She must have heard through the grapevine that I dropped out of the Homecoming nominations, because she finally corners me at lunch to ask me about it.

“What’s this about?” Amber has the latest copy of the newspaper in her hand, and she slams it down on the table in front of me and Mike, her brother and my best friend.

I assume it’s just about the Homecoming thing until I see the article she’s pointing to. FAMED LOCAL HOCKEY PLAYER INVITED TO PRESTIGIOUS TOURNAMENT. I stare down at the title, my mind racing. “I… I just mentioned it in passing to Higgins. I didn’t ask him–”

“You’re going to this tournament instead of Homecoming?” Amber folds her arms across her chest, glaring at me.

“I mean, yeah.” I point to where it says “prestigious” in the article. “It’s a really big deal, Amber. If I want to make it playing hockey, I need to be all in.”

“All in?” Amber huffs. “So you’re breaking up with me?”

“I guess I am!” I snap, the words burning in my throat before I can stop them. Her eyes immediately fill with tears and she runs off. I stand there, thinking I should go after her, but Mike stops me.

“I think you’d better stay here.” He looks me up and down, seriously disappointed in me, before going after his sister. A few of our other friends are watching on, but they go back to their food — my threatening glare convincing. Still, I hear whispers rising up around me, everyone discussing the fall of the school’s “It Couple”.

I let my head fall into my arms. This sucks.

A week goes by, and I’ve managed to convince myself that it was all for the best. I’ve never been a great boyfriend anyway, too focused on hockey to be able to give Amber the time and attention she deserves. Now she can go date someone else who will put her first.

I haven’t talked to Amber or Mike, so another guy from the hockey team has to be the one to show me the latest article in the paper. A JOCK BY ANY OTHER NAME: AN OP-ED BY AMBER MORRISON.

Good God. I skim the piece, which gets downright nasty in parts. The whole thing is a tirade about selfish athletes who put sports above all else at the expense of their friends and family. She goes on about “single-minded jocks” and their “ego-driven choices.” Worst of all, though she doesn’t name names, everyone knows she’s talking about me.

The words blur as I stare at the page. My heart pounding, heat rising in my face, I crumple the paper in my fist and toss it to the ground while my teammates just watch on.

I try to take a few deep, calming breaths, but Amber knew how to hit me where it hurt. I’ve already been the subject of too many curious looks after the breakup, I know people are talking about me behind my back. But this is going too far.

Coach Johnson calls me into his office. “Harrison, a word?”

I slump into the office, rage still simmering just below the surface. It surges when Coach Johnson pulls out his own copy of the school newspaper and gestures at me with it. “Have you seen this?”

“Yes, Coach,” I mutter.

“This article doesn’t make us look very good, kid.” Coach Johnson finds a line from Amber’s article and reads it aloud to me. “‘The Bayside Hounds Hockey Team has a reputation for success, but at what cost?’”

He glances up at me, and I press my lips together to keep a frustrated groan from escaping. “She called us out by name. I will be having a talk with Mr. Higgins about retracting this editorial. I know he encourages "student self expression on most any issue" in his editorial section but this….? Am I correct in thinking that this is a friend of yours? Wait, isn't Amber Morrison your girlfriend?”

“Not anymore, Coach,” I grunt.

Coach Johnson lets out a short laugh. “Yes, well, I figured that. You’re lucky she didn’t name you specifically. If the scouts find out you’re the guy this article is about…"

“I understand, Coach.” I decide right then that I am never speaking to Amber Morrison again. And I will never forgive her for ending my career before it even began.

Of course, I did end up getting scouted at the tournament, and I got that coveted hockey scholarship. But the rest of senior year was no picnic, finishing my senior year, working to help support my mom, playing club hockey, preparing for college, and nursing my broken heart.

Now I understand that she was just hurt. Choosing hockey made sense to me at the time, but I never told her the real reasons for ending things with her. In fact, I realize there are still things I’m hiding from Amber. Things that affect even the way I am now.

I was such a scared kid back then. And I know now that Amber never meant to hurt me quite so badly. She was lashing out because she was scared, too. Scared of losing something that meant a lot to her — Me.

I spot her in the stands, right where she always sits. She gives a shy wave, almost unsure. I can’t stop the smile that creeps in. I’ve spent a decade running hurt and scared—but I’m done running. Time to throw off that heavy backpack of pain and anger.

I want that second chance. And I think I might just be ready for it.