TWEET!

“Alright boys, it’s time to hit the showers! Get your butts off the ice! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Coach Heinrich’s whistle blasts and I glance up along with the rest of the guys. I skate toward the panel door leading to the locker rooms with the rest of the University of Ontario’s Bobcats ice hockey team.

“Jayden Fisher, skate aside. I need to talk to you.” The rest of the team gives me the knowing smirk of Oh shit, he’s stepped in it now. I cut a loop out of the line up on my skates and reverse, sliding back toward Coach before sharply slicing my skates to the side and coming to a stop.

“What’s up Coach?” I ask as I watch the rest of my teammates file off the ice. My stomach sinks as I try to think of what I could have possibly done that will earn me extra laps around the rink, but I’m coming up empty in the guilty thoughts reservoir.

“You’re maintaining a C in your humanities course,” he states. I look into Coach’s gray eyes and see that he’s serious but not angry. Maybe there won’t be extra laps after all. After an hour and a half of suicide drills, going line to line, my calves are burning and I’m ready to crash for a couple of hours. He’s standing, legs apart, sure-footed on the slick surface with his arms folded across his black and gold Bobcat’s team jacket. I’m not sure if he’s asking a question or demanding an explanation.

“That is still passing Coach. Are you gonna bench me at tomorrow’s game?” That feeling of apprehension once again churns in my gut.

“No, I won’t bench you. A C is passing but I think you can do better than that Fisher. I want all my players to remember that applying themselves in everything they do is worth more to me than the fastest skater or best puck handler I have.”

I nod, “Ok, I’ll get the grade up.”

“That’s right son. I’m going to give you two weeks. From what I understand, you have a major paper due at the end of that and your professor has assured me that if you do well on that, your grade will bounce back up to a B.”

“Understood Coach.”

“Good, which is why I’ve signed you up for the tutoring sessions provided at the campus library starting tonight. The brainiacs will help you sort out what you need for the paper and all that. So, make sure you show up.” With that, Coach doesn’t even give me a chance to groan and complain. He walks off the ice leaving me staring after him wondering what the heck just happened.

I push off on my right heel and glide to the door after him. When I enter the locker room, the guys are all in various states of undress, but the first thing they do is slap my back and ask, “Yo man, what did Heinrich want? You good man?”

I clunk my way to my locker and begin stripping off layers of padding and sweat soaked clothing. I keep my eyes fixed on the internal cavern of my locker and lean my stick back against the far corner.

“Come on, dude! Don’t leave us hanging!” Barry jostles me from the side.

“I have to visit the geeks the next two weeks, man.” I answer him. He looks confused when I look over at his freckled face and ginger sweat-matted hair.

“What’s up bro?” he asks.

“Gotta get my damn Humanities grade up,” I explain.

“Yeah, but you got a C in that class. It isn’t failing.”

“True, but Coach wants me to do really well on the midterm paper and get it up to a B,” I gripe.

“What!? He’s not benching you, is he?” Clive comes up behind me, slapping my shoulder. I punch the locker in an effort to stay upright. Clive is the biggest guy we have on our team and the best defensive checker.

“No, not yet. But he will if I don’t do better.”

I throw my gloves into the locker and grab my shower gear.

“He can’t do that man!” Clive sits down on the bench in a towel next to me. I avert my eyes. Most of the guys on the team are down with the fact that I’m out, but bro code still dictates I don’t make shit awkward for them in the locker room by glancing below the belt.

“Well he is. I don’t get why I need to know about arts and sculptures and all that shit. It’s cool to look at, sure, but my contribution to humanity is on the ice.”

A great whoop sounds through the locker room and a couple of the guys slap me on the back on their way in and out of the showers. I know it’s all bullshit and everyone here knows when Coach says to do something, Coach’s word is law. But that doesn’t mean they won’t bitch about it right alongside with me. It’s what got us into the grueling two-hour practice at six in the morning on a Saturday to begin with.

Clive is the captain of the team and after a night of drinking at the campus frat chapter house, he decided it would be fun to go to Coach’s house and toilet paper his front yard. Coach Heinrich isn’t a total stickler. He had a good laugh after he came out to see what all the ruckus was about and found Barry who had thrown a roll so hard he fell over into his wife’s hydrangea bushes.

He’d gotten the last laugh when he came to the dorms this morning and woken us all up with an air horn at 5:30 and told us to get our asses onto the ice for an extra practice this weekend. The only guys who grumbled were the ones who were still hung over and Barry because his sweat was making the scratches on his face from the bushes sting. Knowing Barry, he was already plotting to stuff Coach’s car full of stuffed animal bobcats, which are a dime a dozen in this town, at the next game we win.

I love the dynamic of this team and despite our endless antics, we all respect the hell out of Coach Heinrich. So, I would go to his study sessions and work my ass off through midterms getting under his radar for the academic shit list. I sigh as I realize I’m going to miss round two at the frat house though. Just as well, I haven’t been able to shake this headache all morning. I hit the showers with a grin on my face despite the double duty study session times coming on, but the nerds are always fun to mess around with until it’s time to get serious.

I shower off and feel the snap of a towel on my ass which leaves a red welt as I’m walking out.

“What the hell man?” I glare at Kasey, our goalie.

“Get your shit together dude. You’re our best frontline man and if you get benched, we lose our shot at playoffs.”

I nod. Kasey has always been quiet and serious. He’s at school on scholarship and knows above anyone else the perils of screwing that up.

“I’ll sort it out.” I reassure him, and he leaves it at that, turning back to his locker.

I get dressed and head back up to my dorm for a post-practice pick me up nap. After half an hour of tossing and turning, I can’t fall asleep. I glance over at my desk and see the barely cracked Humanities book lying on my desk. I sigh and get up, hopping back into bed with the book. I crack it open and after ten minutes of skimming through dates and historical facts about the stuff I’m looking at, I fall back asleep with the book on my chest.