In The Penalty Box

by Lynn Rush

  Bile stung the back of my throat, and I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs. Darkness curved my vision as I focused on my breathing. In. Out.

  “I know you are.”

  Gramps’s voice was calm, but it didn’t help. My breathing hitched. This wasn’t happening. There must be a misunderstanding. Today was the first day I’d tried jumps on the ice, and while they didn’t go super well, it didn’t mean they never would. I just needed more time. How could they do this to me?

  He let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, Willow. They’ve filled your spot.”

  Black spots dotted my vision. Gramps continued to talk, but the words melted into nonsense.

  “Willow?” Gramps squeezed my hand. “Are you all right?”

  I couldn’t respond. My heart thumped so hard, it literally stole the words from my mouth. I could feel my pulse in my ears. They filled my spot? I bet freaking Sasha Abbott weaseled her way in front of Coach while I was away. I’d only been gone two weeks—two freaking weeks. I should have stayed in Colorado for my rehab, then I could have been at the rink each day…

  Shit. I balled up my fists, my nails digging into the palms of my hands.

  Our waiter skated out of the restaurant and toward the car. “Here are your root beer floats. I’ll be right back with the rest of your order.”

  Gramps thanked him and set the floats in the cupholders between us.

  “This can’t be happening. It has to be some kind of mistake.” I hid my face behind splayed fingers and rocked back and forth in my seat. “I—I need to call Dr. Nolan. Figure this out. There’s no way they’d cut me.”

  I’d brought home more gold than any other skater on that damn team. I’d sacrificed so much. My family had, too.

  I felt light-headed. This couldn’t be happening.

  Oh, God. Mom and Dad. Everything they’d given up for me to skate. To live at the training center. A wave of nausea cramped my stomach, and I leaned forward in my seat. Everything. Everything I’d worked for had all been for nothing.

  No. No way. I sat up straight and drew in a deep breath, willing the burning tears away. It was not going to end here. I’d get back there, or I’d find another training facility to take me. I only had until January to get back in shape so I could pass my level assessments and get picked up by a new skating program.

  Pain ripped through my chest. Hot searing pain. Like someone was burning my skin with a hot poker.

  Jake returned with the rest of the food, but before he could clip the tray on to the side of the car, Gramps whispered something to him. He gave a quick nod and skated away with the tray underhand. He came back a few minutes later with our food in to-go bags.

  “Snowflake, I know it’s overwhelming right now, and I know it’s hard to see them, but you do have options. You could go to college next year. Get into coaching…”

  “Skating is my life, Gramps,” I finally said, breaking the silence.

  Gramps set the food on the backseat floor. “Is there anything your old Gramps can do to help you?”

  “Thanks, but no.” The team I’d given my life to had abandoned me. They didn’t believe in me. They didn’t think I could do it. My hands trembled as I ran them through my hair.

  Hot tears welled in the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill onto my cheeks at any moment. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t blink.

  I couldn’t breathe. I was done skating?

  Hell no, I wasn’t.

  I fisted my hands and rested them on my thighs as a wave of warmth blanketed over me. My heart rate calmed down a little as I focused on the goal. No matter what I had to do, I would return to skating.

  This was not the end of my dream to be Willow Covington, Olympic gold medalist.

  Somehow, I’d make sure of it.

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  Willow

  “Can you please pass me a can of diced tomatoes?”

  “Sure thing, Hana.” The director of the Helping Hands Homeless Shelter had promised the residents she’d make them their favorite chili recipe tonight.

  The shelves in front of me were barely stocked, leaving a twinge of guilt in my gut. Feeling upset about losing my spot on the training team in Colorado seemed a lot less relevant when there were people with nowhere to live and nothing to eat. Just like Gramps had said when I’d told him I didn’t want to come today.

  I’d found out I was cut from the skating team two days ago, and I’d felt like a lump ever since. I didn’t want to go anywhere or talk to anyone. I’d finally told Jessa this morning, and she was as sweet as could be.

  Being here reminded me that I’d relied on the kindness of strangers for the past three years, considering the only way I’d been able to train and go to school in Colorado was due to sponsorship from a private donor. It had been awarded to me when my parents weren’t able to pay for my skating anymore. The sponsorship was based on skill and financial need. Skating was expensive.

  Back when I was five, my parents nearly had to pull me out of lessons because they couldn’t afford proper skates. Luckily, someone at the rink had donated a pair that fit me. It had been a struggle from that point forward, but my parents had given everything they had to help me reach elite status.

  That was why losing my sponsorships had been an even bigger punch to the gut. Everything my parents had sacrificed over the years and the money people had donated with the hopes that I’d end up at the Olympics…it was all in the garbage until I could get back into championship shape.

  I pushed a sack of potatoes to the side. “We’re running low, but we have two big cans of diced tomatoes with garlic and oregano or one with green chilies.”

  Hana smiled, her silver ponytail swinging over her shoulder and her gray eyes sparkling. “I’ll take one of each.”

  “Gramps said as long as he’s feeling up to it, we’d be able to pick out a few things this weekend when we go grocery shopping,” I said, glancing back at the nearly empty shelves. “What’s at the top of the list?”

  Gramps always put the needs of others before his own well-being. According to my dad, he hadn’t blinked when my dad asked if he and my mom could move in. And then when I needed to move in, too, he was genuinely excited about it.

  It was supposed to be temporary, until Mom found a job closer to Woodhaven. But secretly, I enjoyed living with Gramps. He made me laugh, and there was always a hot meal on the table. Things were so much more relaxed at his house than at the training center.

  The only time there was tension was when Mom and Dad talked on the phone. Their terse conversations in hushed voices were starting to worry me. Dad always brushed it off, but it didn’t take a genius to know things weren’t going well between them.

  “Anything is helpful, but canned vegetables, oatmeal, and rice always go a long way. Fresh fruit and vegetables are great, too. They don’t last as long and cost a bit more, but they are always appreciated.” Balancing one oversize can in each hand, Hana smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here, honey. Your grandfather talks about you constantly.”

  Her smile warmed my chest. She really was sweet. I never would have guessed she was in her mid-sixties by her energy and enthusiasm, and she always wore something pink, too, whether it was clothing, something in her hair, or her painted nails. She said the bright color made her smile.

  “Thanks. I’m glad I’m here, too.” I checked over the sparsely filled shelves one more time. “I’ve put everything away. Is there anything else I can do before I leave? My dad isn’t picking me up for twenty more minutes.”

  “If you want to help me prep for dinner tonight, that would be great.” Hana motioned with her shoulder toward the hallway.

  Nodding, I folded up the paper bags the donations had come in and set them on the lowest shelf. This was only my second time volunteering here, but I was finally starting to get to know my way around the plac
e. Gramps had only been out to visit me in Colorado twice, but the first time, he made sure that I was volunteering at least five to ten hours a week somewhere. He said volunteer work not only helped others, but it built strong character.

  Gramps usually spent every morning at the shelter, but he mentioned he wasn’t feeling well yesterday, so he was at home resting. Hopefully he didn’t get bronchitis again. Last time he had it, it landed him in the hospital for a couple of days.

  “Hey, Hana! Sorry I’m running late,” a voice called from around the corner where the front door was. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t picture the face it belonged to.

  “Don’t worry, Preach! That busted pipe is still waiting for you in the basement,” Hana said with a chuckle as she shut the closet door behind me.

  Preach? I froze. Part of me wanted to melt into the wall. Sure, he was a nice guy and all, but I didn’t really want to face anyone right now. Then again, he didn’t know I’d been cut from my skating team. Unless Jessa had told him already. Which would be fine, I guess, but still.

  My heart ramped up a couple of ticks per minute, and my hands went sweaty. I wasn’t sure why I was suddenly nervous, but I was. The word would get out soon, considering it was probably blasted all over social media by my not-so-favorite ex-teammate Sasha Abbott. So I needed to toughen up.

  “Everything all right, Willow?” Hana asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Preach stuck his head around the corner. “Toe Pick?”

  “Toe Pick?” Hana said, laughing. “Now what kind of greeting is that, young man?”

  “Nickname of affection, right, Willow?” He grinned, and his dark brown eyes flashed with mischief as he stepped into the hallway.

  I chuckled at his playfulness and said, “If you say so.”

  “I didn’t know you volunteered here.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  His flawless skin and perfect smile that triggered a slight dimple on his left cheek were hard to ignore. He stood about six feet tall, and his floppy, dark brown hair framed his face in a perfectly messy fashion. Brodie was much more my type, but damn, Woodhaven had a lot of hot guys…

  I’d watched him play hockey, and he was good, but he didn’t come off as cocky like a few of the other guys in that pick-up game. According to Jessa, he not only served here at the mission, but he led the school food drive every year, and he single handedly raised over $2,000 for a kid whose family needed help paying for his leukemia treatments.

  “Willow?” Preach said my name and waved his hand in front of my face. “You still with us?”

  “Oh. Uh, y-yeah,” I stammered. “Just thinking about something.”

  “How do you two know each other?” Hana asked.

  “Willow joined our pick-up game the other day. She’s really good.” Preach smiled. “She even stopped one of Wind’s shots.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that while I was grocery shopping yesterday.” Hana grinned and nodded. “I didn’t know that you played hockey.”

  Heat pooled in my cheeks. “Uh, no. I don’t. I was practicing my jumps, and Preach invited me to join their game after their goalie got hurt.”

  Preach leaned against the wall, beside the painting of the founder of the mission. “You know we have another pick-up game tomorrow… You interested?”

  “Hockey isn’t really my thing,” I said, my palms starting to sweat. Had he really asked me if I was interested in playing with them again? “Anyways, uh…I’ve got to get in the kitchen to help Hana with dinner. I’ll see you later.”

  Me play hockey for real? Impossible.

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  Brodie

  “Careful, Limp Lungs, or you’ll have another attack,” I said as Caleb tackled me around the waist.

  For an eight-year-old with severe asthma, he was impressively strong. He couldn’t participate in sports or many outdoor activities, yet here he was almost knocking me over on the living room floor.

  If I’d been on the ice, he wouldn’t have even budged me, but on land I wasn’t as coordinated.

  “Dork face.” Caleb tightened his hold around me as my butt thumped against the carpet. I twisted at my waist and easily flipped him onto his back. He grunted and let out a wheeze.

  I froze.

  He punched my stomach.

  And then I started wheezing.

  “Ha.” He pushed off me. “Sucker.”

  “That was dirty.” I rolled onto my stomach and planted my elbows in the shag carpet.

  He flopped onto his back, laughing. Sprinkled in the laughs, though, was an all-too-familiar cough. His lungs were filling up again. Third cold in as many months.

  Damn asthma. One minute we could be messing around, having fun, the next he was almost suffocating from horrible coughing and wheezing. Mom had always hated when we’d wrestle, but the kid deserved a little bit of normalcy, so I made sure not to push too hard. But there was always the underlying worry that we’d get a little too rough and we’d be making another trip to the emergency room.

  If I lost him, I wouldn’t survive it. I’d barely survived Mom dying. An image of Mom’s face flashed before my eyes, and I flinched at the impact. She’d died just under two years ago, but sometimes it still felt like yesterday. My chest ached at the memory of Dad—

  No! I shook my head, dislodging the memories from my mind. My stomach churned, but I fixed my focus back to Caleb. He needed me to be strong. Be here with him.

  When his last cold had turned into bronchitis, it landed him in the hospital for three days—and I’d almost completely lost it.

  “You boys settle down out there,” our maid, Rita, called from the kitchen. “And Brodie, quit calling your brother Limp Lungs!”

  “Rita!” Caleb smacked his forehead, then got up. “Haven’t you seen The Goonies?”

  “Is that one of your video games?”

  I chuckled as my little brother rolled his eyes.

  “No! We’ve gone over this a million times!” Caleb stood in the entryway to the living room, and I could see her shadow against the wall near him. “These friends and one of their older brothers go on an adventure to find One-Eyed Willy’s long-lost treasure. The older brother always calls the little brother Limp Lungs because he has asthma, like me!”

  “It’s still not nice.” She peeked her head into the living room and smiled at me. “Enough roughhousing.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  “Suck up!” Caleb hopped onto the couch and stuck out his tongue.

  Just like Willow had stuck her tongue out at me at the rink a couple of days ago. Right before she stunned me with her goalie skills.

  I shook my head. No, no thinking about Willow.

  “I hate Rita’s food.” Caleb stuck his finger in his mouth as if he was trying to gag himself or something.

  “Whatever Rita’s making, you’ll eat it and say ‘thank you.’ Or I’ll start making dinner and then you’ll really be sorry.”

  He rolled his eyes, then leaned to the side and dug out his phone. The kitchen was at the end of the hallway, but I could hear pots and pans clanking. Rita was a horrible cook, but I was way worse.

  Unless it was corn dogs and Tabasco sauce. I could totally nail that.

  We’d eaten plenty of those meals after Mom died, before Rita came to take care of us. George, our house manager, and a couple other staff members helped her, but it was mostly Rita.

  I was glad for them, though, because over this last year Dad was constantly away for work, so we needed the help. Not to mention, it got pretty lonely here with only me and Caleb in this huge house.

  My breath hitched in my chest. Damn, I missed my mom.

  Guess Dad really didn’t know how to take care of us or himself after Mom died. She’d been killed by a drunk driver, and now when Dad was home, he was usually drinking.

&n
bsp; “Who’s Willow?” Caleb asked as he sat up, staring at his phone.

  Wait a minute, that was my phone.

  “What the hell, man?” I shot up and went to grab it.

  He pulled it out of reach and laughed. “You’re quick on the ice, but off the ice…not so much. Should we get you some skates? Would that help?”

  “You’re so dead.” I hopped up to tackle him, but he leaped over the back of the couch and darted behind the dining room table, holding my phone out to tease me.

  I stood at the head of the table, and he stood at the other end, a grin filling his face. His shaggy brown hair was a shade darker than mine, and even though he had the same brown eyes as me, they appeared darker, because his skin was so pale all the time.

  He really did look like a mini-me, only sickly.

  “That’s the new girl from the pick-up game. The figure skater?” He looked at me with wide eyes. “Why are you on her Instagram profile? I’m so posting a comment.”

  “You better not!” My heart shot up into my throat at the thought of him commenting on her stuff. Talk about mortifying.

  I darted around the corner, but he did the same—and how the heck did he do that while looking at my phone? The kid was a ninja.

  “You loooove her. You want to kiss her. You—”

  Picking up my speed around the table, I almost caught him, but he bolted through the doorway into the main living room where we’d been watching a movie. He scrambled over the back of the leather couch, landed on the cushion, and jumped onto the coffee table.

  I did the same but stopped on the cushion, towering over him more than I normally did, since the coffee table was short. I stared him down and held out my hand.

  His grin vanished, his chest rose, and he let out a deep cough that about rattled my lungs.

  He handed my phone to me mid-cough. “I’m okay.” Cough. “Here.” Cough. Cough.

  “Dude.” I stepped down.

  “I’m good.” He plopped onto the center of the coffee table and sat cross-legged, still coughing.