by Devon Monk
He had an obvious scar puckering one cheek.
Coach Nowak, the man in charge of the Tide.
“What the hell kind of shit show are you running?” Nowak yelled. “That—” he stabbed a finger at me “—little publicity stunt of yours is a fucking menace. Either you throw him out of the game or I sure as hell will.”
“Fuck off, Nowak.”
Wow. I’d never heard Coach that angry. He started us forward again. I really wanted to help out more with that, but it was taking everything I had to just stay on my feet.
Nowak shot out a hand and clamped down on Coach’s shoulder.
He leaned in, and I could feel the anger radiating off him like heat waves.
“I warned you, Elliott, but you didn’t listen. This time you have crossed the line. If you want to destroy your reputation by parading your team around like some kind of bullshit NHL franchise, fine. That’s on you. You want to turn West Hell into some kind of politically correct, discount, apologetic game for pansy-ass has-beens, good damn luck.
“But you bring in players who are unsafe, uncontrolled when they play my boys? You bring in a wizard with no control over his magic? I will tear this shit show you call a team apart and make sure you never work another day of your life.”
Coach Clay hadn’t moved. Hadn’t flinched. The plateau between them stretched on and on and on.
“Nice talk, Don,” Coach finally said. “All those multiple syllable words almost made you sound smart.” Then he pushed, physically moving the man out of his way as he carried me forward.
Everything was getting a little dark at the edges, and my breathing was going funny. I was losing my grip on reality. Was about to go under.
“Coach,” I gasped.
There were more hands, arms wrapped around me, steadying and carrying me. Even with my iffy vision, I knew some of those hands belonged to Leon, Assistant Coach Beauchamp, Graves, and Duncan.
I was manhandled into a chair, my head pushed down between my knees while Leon told me to breathe nice and slow.
“Okay,” Coach said. “That’s all of us here. Everyone settle and listen up. There will be consequences for that debacle tonight. The WHHL has already contacted me and let me know they are coming up with some new rules about wizards on teams. At this point, they’re going to let me know how many games Mr. Hazard will be suspended for, and how many games we will forfeit.”
Everyone groaned and cussed.
I tried to lift my head to protest. I’d been the one who had fucked up, not my teammates. They shouldn’t suffer for my stupidity. Forfeiting even a couple games could kill our standing for the playoffs this year.
A hand on the back of my head stilled me. Leon again.
“Breathe,” he ordered.
“Don’t blame it all on Hazard, Coach,” Duncan said. “He wasn’t the only one who might have pushed it a little too far tonight.”
“Might have, Mr. Spark? Is that how you saw this, because if you thought tonight might have been a little too far, you need to gather your gear and get the hell off of my team.”
Ouch. I knew that tone of voice. We were so screwed.
“Was it a little too far, Mr. Spark?” Coach went on.
“No, sir.” Duncan’s hand on my shoulder tightened. “It was a lot too far.”
I swallowed hard and tried to talk, but my voice had checked out for good.
“As soon as I hold the press conference I should not have to hold to explain why my team, who should be setting the bar for the professional behavior the Western Hybrid Hockey League, instead lost their heads in a rival game for nothing, we’ll get down to what individual discipline will be required.”
He exhaled a hard breath. “I need you all to listen to me. I’m angry. I’m frustrated. I know you are too. But this ends now. Right here. We do not stoop to their level. We do not lose our heads. We force them to rise up and meet us. On our battlefield, on our terms.
“I am not saying the animals within us are wrong. What we are, every part of us, makes us better fighters, better warriors, better competitors. But this was not a time to resort to magic.
“We must play better, think better, and handle magic better than any other team out there. I want to see this team rise to something better than what is expected of us. I expect discipline. I expect brute force and balls-out skill, backed up by intelligence and un-fucking-breakable focus.
“That’s what makes us the Thunderheads. That’s what makes us a team. I want that. I want your best every damn time you step on the ice.”
“Some of us already give our best, Coach,” Lock said. “Every time.”
Jerk. I mean, he wasn’t wrong. But still: jerk.
“All or nothing, Mr. Laakkonen,” Coach said. “We are a team. What one of us chooses, we all choose. What one of us does, we all do. When one of us falls, we are all there to back him or her up. What we do not do, is let our tempers, our beasts, our magic, our fear, or our anger get the better of us.” He eyed each of us.
“We don’t fall apart the first time someone pulls a dirty move. We fight back, as hockey players, not as animals. “If we can’t be better than the beasts inside of us, then we’ve already lost. And if we’re ever going to gain the respect of the world, if we’re going to become something more than a freak show, if we’re ever going to be seen as a hockey club that is every damn bit as good as the NHL, then we play it hard and we play it right.
“It’s time you step up and prove me right. Now get on the bus. While I deal with this shit show press conference. Coach Beauchamp. Show them the way out.”
I heard him leave, which was saying something, because he was always silent on his feet.
There was a general exhale and then Assistant Coast Beauchamp spoke, his deep rumble a relief. “All right boys and girls. You heard Coach Clay. Let’s get this show on the road. If we run into any reporters, keep your mouth shut. If you can’t do that, say something positive about the game, and about our rivals. Do us right, hear?”
Leon tapped the back of my head. “Think you can sit up without passing out?”
I lifted my face off my knees. The room stuttered and swayed then settled. I’d never been so tired in my life.
“Should I.” I cleared my throat, because all that came out was a whisper. “Press interview?”
Leon squinted to where coach had left. “He didn’t tell you to go with him. And with that voice, you’re not going to do any good anyway. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to smile at the cameras back home.”
Great.
Twenty-Eight
The Thunderheads had to forfeit that game, and the next two. That made the Redding Rumblers and the Nampa Hunters happy, but it shot the hell out of our record. If we continued this losing streak, there wasn’t going to be much chance we’d reach the playoffs.
Coach told me over the phone, “You pulled magic out of a block radius. Completely stripped it.”
“They can measure that?”
“Yes, Hazard. They can measure that.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No. Well, you. The league has passed down your punishment.”
“Oh.”
“Five games. You’ll be off the ice for the next five.”
“Oh.”
“Hazard?”
“Yeah?”
“If you do that again, it won’t just be the league dropping you from games. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“One more thing. They want you to attend a training class. For wizards.”
“Oh.”
He sighed. “Don’t sound so sad, Hazard. This will help you control your magic. This is good. It’s the missing piece of your training I didn’t even think about for you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Because I was that different from all his other players. That strange.
“How’s your recovery?”
That pull on magic had done something to me. Broke something inside me in a way I didn’t un
derstand. I was weak, exhausted. My appetite was dead, my strength shot.
“Good, Coach.”
There was silence. Then another sigh.
“Don’t lie to me, Random. You see your doctor?”
“Yes, Coach.” Sean had taken me and stayed so he would know what my recovery would require. Turned out it was more than ice and elevation.
“Are you following his advice?”
Sleep was the big thing. Had to get a lot of it. After that, no strenuous physical or mental activity. Lots of food, fluids.
No hockey for two weeks.
And absolutely no magic use.
If I never used magic again in my life, it would be fine with me.
“Yes, Coach.”
“Good. If you need anything from me, call.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“Random?”
“Yes?”
“You’re still a part of this team. Still a Thunderhead. We just have to take these steps to make sure there are no more mistakes going forward.”
“Yes, Coach.”
I hung up.
“Move over.” Duncan dropped a pillow next to my shoulder. He stood by my bed glowering down at me like I’d done something personally to offend him.
I shook my head. My throat felt like I’d been practicing sword swallowing but had accidentally used a pitchfork. That was on fire. And covered in bees. And still in my throat.
“I’m sleeping with you.”
He was really bossy tonight. I shook my head again.
“Just—” he blew out a breath. “Move, Random. I want to sleep.”
So whiny. I closed my eyes and didn’t move.
“You suck.” He shouted: “Mom! Random won’t move.”
I heard her footsteps. “Random, are you okay?”
I opened my eyes. Gave her a thumbs up and put whatever I had left into a smile.
“Tell him to move.” Duncan was still scowling at me, like I was some kind of obstacle he didn’t know how to get over put in his way just to annoy him.
“He doesn’t want you to sleep in here, Duncan,” his mom said. She was watching me as she said it, checking to make sure she was correct. I gave her the thumbs up again.
“But I want to.”
Yeah, Duncan was never going to take top scores on a debate team.
Kit looked at her son. “He needs all the sleep he can get, and you being in here complaining doesn’t help with that.”
“But—”
“No. Let him get some sleep without worrying about you stealing his covers or hogging the bed.”
“I—”
“Not going to change my mind,” she said. “And neither is Random. Go on.” She pushed him toward the door, which was always funny to watch, because she was tiny next to him, but he looked like such a chastised three-year-old.
“Mom,” he groaned.
“Out.”
I smiled at the two of them. No matter how tired I was, just knowing they were there, such a part of my life, when it would have been easier a hundred times over to send me packing back to my absent mother and empty house, or out into the world on my own, made my chest warm.
This was my family. It was small and nothing close to normal. But it was mine and I loved it. Loved them. Even Duncan, who really needed a girlfriend so he could get all his wolf-pack cuddling needs out on her instead of me.
Kit came back and stood next to my bed. “Do you need anything, Random? Water? A bathroom break?”
I’d needed help getting to the bathroom, which sort of drove home how badly burned out I was. I shook my head. “Sleep.”
She winced at the sound, then pressed her hand on my forehead, my cheek. She was a nurse, so she knew what she was doing. But I secretly hoped she was just touching me like that because she wanted to comfort me.
“You’re going to be fine. I know you feel bad right now, but sleep is going to do wonders for you. Drink that water any time you wake up tonight. I’ll check in on you a couple times, okay?”
She talked while her palm rested against my cheek, her gaze warm.
I nodded.
“Good-night, Random.” She bent and brushed a quick kiss to my forehead. She hadn’t done that since I was eleven.
She was worried about me. I hated that I’d made her feel that way.
I’d dragged my team down and worried the only people in the world who actually cared about me.
I had to fix this. All of it. But first I needed a plan. I closed my eyes to think and black waves of exhaustion swallowed me whole.
When I surfaced, it was the middle of the night. I didn’t hear anyone awake in the house. Perfect.
I had a plan, and that plan started with me getting out of bed by myself, and walking to the bathroom down the hall.
Using magic had used up my body. That was the downside of being a wizard and it was why wizards had to be so careful with how much magic they used and how often.
I’d dealt with the side effects pretty well all the other times I’d used it, but sucking all the magic out of a city block, and then manipulating that magic had really hit me hard.
If I was going to be a part of the team, I needed to get my physical strength back.
I pushed the blanket down to my thighs and took my time sliding my legs over to the edge of the bed. Getting into a sitting position was no fun, but I did it.
Score.
For my next trick, I stood, bracing my hand on the wall, and then I started walking, slow, careful steps.
Blood pounded heavy and loud in my ears, and my breathing was all weird and ragged. There wasn’t a lot of light in the room, so I could only assume my vision was still holding out.
I’d made it half a dozen steps when my bare foot landed on something squishy and warm.
“Ouch,” Duncan said sleepily. “Get off my arm, Ran.”
He was on my floor? Why was he on my floor?
“I couldn’t sleep,” I lied.
He made noise like he was rubbing his hand over his face, then grunted and stood. “Bathroom?”
“I can do it.”
“Just…stop with the Vader whisper, dude. It sounds terrible.” His big hand clamped onto my elbow. I tried to pull away, but he chuckled. “You are shaking so hard, I’m surprised your teeth aren’t chattering. C’mon.”
I didn’t have the strength to pull away. He walked with me to the bathroom, hung out while I pissed and washed up, then took his place next to me, his hand under my elbow.
We started down the hall. He aimed us toward the bedroom, but I made a noise and leaned a little like I was on skates and could correct our angle.
“What?”
“Kitchen.”
“I can get you food. Are you hungry? You should be hungry, because not to scare you dude, but you’ve lost at least twenty pounds since the game and it’s only been two days.”
I just kept walking to the kitchen. I was not hungry. But the only way to get back on my feet, was to be on my feet.
Duncan seemed confused when we paused, me leaning against the island, him with his head in the refrigerator naming off the contents in hopes I’d say yes to something. Finally: “Water?”
I was breathing too hard to answer, and there was a mosquito-buzz ringing in my ears, I flicked up a thumb in acknowledgment.
“You had water by your bed, Ran.” He filled a plastic cup halfway. I took it gratefully, my hand shaking all to hell until he steadied it and helped me get the cup to my lips.
Drank it all down while Duncan watched.
“You think you can push this?” he said quietly. “Have you looked at yourself in a mirror? You’re a skinny stick insect that’s been drowned in the rain.”
I flipped him off.
He grinned. “Yeah, like you could stop me from doing anything to you right now. I know you. I know you want to get better faster. That’s why you just did a lap into the kitchen, right?” He bent a little to look into my eyes. “Right?”
“Yes.”
“Not. Broken.”
“You were on fire, Random. I think you keep forgetting that. Also, you forced two full hockey teams out of their shifts. Mid-shift. I looked that shit up. Nobody has ever done that. In the history of wizarding. And not just because they weren’t into hockey. There’s a stat on how many wizards have ever, once in their life, drawn someone down out of a shift. You know where you rank? Number one. No one’s ever, ever stopped shift for more than one person at a time.”
I inhaled, exhaled. This whole subject annoyed me.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me. You did a huge, and just so, so stupid thing.”
Changed my mind. It wasn’t the subject that annoyed me. It was him.
“And when we do a huge, stupid thing, we have to take it easy and recover smart. Because if you want to get back out there on the ice this year, you’d better be smart about taking care of your body. Are you listening to me?”
I nodded. He was making sense. Even if I didn’t like it.
“Wow, how weird is it that you finally agree with me?” He crowded my space and pulled me up, draping my arm over his shoulder. When I tried to pull away, he just patted my arm. “Better let me do it this way. Otherwise I’m just gonna put you in a fireman’s carry and lug you into your room like a bag of kibble.”
I would have argued, but by the time I pulled together the energy for it, I was lying in my bed, the covers tossed over me, and Duncan settled beside me, triumphantly, eyes closed, hand on my arm, happy as a stupid clam.
Twenty-Nine
It took me a week to talk Duncan into sneaking me into the rink. We’d done nightly laps at the house, adding in the living room and the hall that led to the laundry room, and Sean and Kit’s home office.
I walked some during the day too, short trips out to the mailbox, or to the end of the block and back.
I worked back up to three meals a day, and then three with snacks but still lost another ten pounds. Right when Kit was about to knock me out and drag me in to the doctor, my weight stabilized.
The team had drills six days straight. Their punishment for the forfeited games. Duncan had gone in every day at five in the morning, and staggered through the door by eight at night.