Page 2

CHAPTER 2

Andry

I groan at the sight of my jersey.

“I'm going to look like a fucking turtle in this thing,” I mumble. Don't need Coach to hear me complaining this soon.

He stepped out on a limb by recruiting me. Even made sure that I got here ok and roomed with people on the team.

It's not every day you get an offer to be a foreign exchange student to America just because you're really fucking good at hockey.

Yet here I am.

Andry Rykov.

The first in my family to leave our home country. Definitely the first one to go to college.

My family all work in the coal mines back home. They spend their days digging in the dirt, trying to make a living.

I never wanted to be like that. My dream has always been to do more.

At first, I had no idea what that more was. Now it's clear as day.

I want to be a professional hockey player. I want to reach the level that seems so unattainable.

But I know I can get there.

All it takes is keeping up the dedication that got me here. I've made it this far. This is America. I'm going to college on scholarship. And I'm on a team that's set to do great things this year.

We will win the big Independence Conference game. I know it.

I bet that’ll get some scouts out if we work hard. It would probably be wise to get my degree as something to fall back on too though.

If I can't be in the NHL, then I might be forced to go home to Russia. I'm not good at anything else.

“The guys are on their way,” Coach says with a slap to my back. “Why don't you go ahead and put that thing on? It'll make them like you a little more.”

He chuckles as he walks off down the hall, leaving me with the atrocious green fabric in my hands. I miss the bold red of my team back home, though team was not what we really were. I played hard. The others worked to get the puck to me each time.

Still, I would miss those guys and the clearly better color choices they made.

Once I flip the jersey over my head, I’ll forget all about its color. All I have to do is keep my eyes up and not look down. Easy to do considering I was 6'5" and built bigger than most grown men. I'd been that way since my twelfth birthday.

I hear the outer doors of the locker room slam open, then the shuffling of feet. The first guy that comes in has shaggy brown hair and a cocky grin.

"You must be the big Russian beast. The tough guy of the ice. The one who will be our savior.” His speech makes the others laugh.

I ignore him as I look over the other players. They are equally as plain with simple hair and pale skin. There's one young man in the back with brown skin. He stands out among the others.

Not only because he looks as if he lays out in the sun often, but also because of the rest of him. His hair is braided to his scalp like I've seen some of the women back home do. The reminder sends a bolt of homesickness through me.

Maybe together we'll find a kindred friendship over being the odd ones out.

If it weren't for my size, I would still look different. I'm all muscle and my skin is ghostly pale. Add to it my jet-black hair and the scar that runs across the side my forehead through the edge of my eyebrow, and you get one scary-looking person.

It's always been hard to make friends, especially when people want to prove that they're the toughest person around. Exhibit A being the guy in front of me who's still spouting off jokes that I have no intention of listening to.

I turn my back on him as I stuff everything into the locker Coach gave me. Before the team gets too worked up, Coach comes back into the room and whistles.

Everyone turns to face him. Their expressions focused.

“Glad to see you're all here.” He looks around the room. “Well, almost all of you. Anyone know where Parnap is?”

“I'm here, Coach.”

I watch as a guy pushes his way through the crowd. He looks almost identical to the guy who was giving me crap earlier. They have to be related. Brothers or cousins. Something.

They share a look as Parnap positions himself beside the other guy. It’s as if they communicate without words.

I turn my focus back to Coach because I know whatever he's about to say is important.

“Glad to see you could join us, Liam. Next time be on time or I'll have you skate laps until you puke. Maybe take a cue from your brother. He got here early.”

He nods and salutes him. “Yes, Coach!”

Coach shakes his head, then goes down the plan for the day. “I want everyone dressed out and on the ice in ten. We're going to run a few drills and get an idea of Andry's presence on the ice. From there, we’ll look at the lineup to see who's going to be first and second line. Some of you might have to move around and change your spots. You will not bitch and moan about it or you will be benched. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Coach.” The men shout as a chorus.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins at the sound. This is what I was missing in Russia.

This teamwork

This community.

I don't have to like these guys. To know that they respect this man who will lead us to victory is good. Because that means they’ll see me play and understand that I am their secret weapon. I’m the one who will come in and destroy all who go up against us.

Coach turns to me. “I want you to give it your all out there, Andry. Don't let these guys think they can pull it over on you just because they played together for a while. Prove to everyone that bringing you here was worth it. There were other guys who could have had this spot. Aiden Mercer was one I’d been watching. Another school snatched him up around the time I found you. Had I pursued him first, you’d still be across the pond.”

I give him a nod as I set my shoulders back and puff my chest up. Aiden Mercer is a damn good player. To know I got a spot meant for him is slightly intimidating.

He and I are about the same when it comes to skill. To know Coach went out of his way to get me first means a lot.

“I will prove it, Coach.”

“See that you do,” he says before tapping his clipboard against his hand and walking away.

Some of the other men follow him out. I would bet anything they're the assistant coaches. Or maybe they're the support staff.

I've always heard that American colleges have loads of money to put towards their athletics. If that's the case, they can have many people on staff with jobs I know nothing about. Back home it was only bare bones help.

The other guys talk and joke amongst themselves, playing music and dancing around the room in our ten minutes. I find it all a little foolish because I want everything to be just right. They should be focusing on getting ready, not this.

My pads need to be perfect. My jersey tucked just right. My skates need to be laced until I can feel every single movement of my foot within the skate. There's nothing that can be off-balance for when I get out there. My dedication is what has gotten me this far. I can't stray from that.

It's why when someone steps into my line of view as I'm lacing up my second skate, I feel a growl build in my chest. I'm like a feral animal now. All I want to do is fucking destroy whoever decided to interrupt my process.

I raise my head to see that it's the guy who was late. He raises his hand in a gesture to say he surrenders.

“My bad, bro. I know better than to interrupt someone's systems. I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself. I'm the team captain, Liam Parnap.”

I dip my head. "Yes," I say.

He tilts his head. "You don't speak much, do you?"

"No need."

He laughs, his hands moving to his hips. “I can't say that I'll complain. Talking can be fun, but yeah, I want my guys to be focused. I think you'll like it here in Bellport. Let me know if you need anything. Coach said that you're moving into the underclassman house. We’ve already cleaned out your room.”

Part of me shrivels up and dies at the thought of having to live with these guys. My living situation was supposed to be one of the perks of my moving here. Now, I’m not so sure.

I can withstand it, so long as they don't interrupt what I'm here to do. If they become a problem, then I'll just have to find another plan.

Maybe it means getting a place of my own or finding a job to keep me busy when I'm not around them. My primary goal is to play hockey. The next is to keep my grades up well enough to play hockey. Anything else after that is not important.

"Oh, and there's a party tonight," Liam says as he walks away. "You should definitely come. We have a good time at these things. You might get a chance to meet a girl. Maybe hook up and lose some of that tension you got, bud."

He motions towards his shoulders as if to say mine are too tight. I'd give anything to be able to flip him off and tell him to go fuck himself.

My shoulders are this big all the time. I'm not stressed, and I sure as shit wouldn't need a woman to help me destress.

Yeah, they're beautiful and I respect them, but they're not what I want. I wonder if he’ll freak out when he realizes I'm gay. It's not something I ever got to confess back home. While I had one or two stolen kisses with someone else, there wasn’t much else. Anything past that was too dangerous.

My country doesn't like same sex anything. Homophobia is the standard.

Coming to America could mean I finally get to explore that part of me. In the same breath, I chastise myself because I know that would only be a distraction. It would be something that could cause strife with my game.

I may not have ever been in a true relationship, but I've watched enough TV and seen enough movies to know that they're not picture-perfect. Something always goes wrong. The idea of risking my entire future for someone who could just bring trouble to my doorstep is not my idea of a good time.

By the time I'm on the ice, I’ve made my decision. I'm not going to date anyone, and I'm sure as hell not going to any party.

We go through drills and begin working as a team on the ice. I give it everything I've got, just like Coach said to. I can see in everyone's eyes that they're surprised by my skill level. I'm able to steal the puck and make a goal more than once.

Our goalie, Tao, is good, but he's not better than me. I get more than a few shots past him, and by the end, he's cursing my name loudly.

"Where the fuck did you come from, Rykov?" he shouts as he skates forward.

The others crowd around me, clapping my back and asking similar questions.

"Russia," I tell them seriously.

My breath is only slightly heavy from the exertion. They laugh, then Tao punches my shoulder. It's not a hard hit, though I still tense at the movement.

“We know you came from Russia. We mean, how are you this good? No one gets past me. That's why we're the best. Now we'll be even better.”

"If you were the best, why didn’t you win last year?" I ask seriously because his words are confusing. “The best are the winners. That's the way it should be, right?”

Liam steps in when the rest of the guys go quiet. His gaze takes me in from head to toe. "I can see this is going to be an issue between us. Let me help explain. We are the best; however, due to some bad calls and bad plays last year, we didn’t win the Independence Conference like we should have. But this year is our year. We've got scouts that will be coming to our games hoping to pick us up. And there's nothing that we can do better to get their attention than to play the best game possible. Who's with me?”

He throws up a fist and several more follow it. Their eyes turn to me, waiting. I repeat the motion.

“Together!” Liam's shouts.

“Together!” we all repeat.

As we skate off the ice, I hang back a bit. I watch them to see how they interact with one another. During practice, my focus was only on that puck and doing what Coach tells me. I didn’t care who was friends with who and how they wanted to spend time together.

But now I can better see the group in front of me. Liam is the captain, and his brother, the one Coach spoke about earlier, is basically his assistant, though he doesn't wear the A designating him as assistant captain. In fact, I didn't see the A on anyone, which I find odd. I don't question it, though.

Ignoring the confusing thought, I take in everyone else. The defenders and our goalie are in the mix surrounding Liam. Everyone seems to wear a smile that's not quite full.

Are these guys holding back secrets or are they just worn out from practice? Is there something I should keep an eye on or am I making it up in my head?

I'm not sure.

All I know is that whatever comes next involves a spot at the NHL for me. Then I'll have money, and I can send some back to my family so they don't have to work as hard. Maybe if I'm lucky, I can even bring my parents here and take care of them. It would be nice to see them thriving in a situation that wasn't based upon what they had to do as their only option.

We shower and change out. Then I've got my bag thrown over my shoulder and my bag full of clothes that Coach tucked away in his office on my other arm.

“Come with me, Andry. I'll show you where your new home is,” Liam tells me as we exit the building.

He throws his arm over my shoulders and talks the entire way there. All I can think as he speaks is about how I can't stand him already. It's going to be a really long year.

If I'm lucky, they'll draft me, and I can just dip out early. It's not like there's anything keeping me at the college if I get the opportunity to go after my dream sooner.

My loyalty is to myself.