Several heads whip around to where the Badgers are gathering in their own box. I have to resist the urge to look over and see if I can make out Nicko. I need to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble on my behalf. And that he’s alright. I don’t want him to deal with Zollweg’s bigotry by himself.
“That fucker,” Baker growls.
Some of my teammates are starting to mutter amongst themselves. Coach is still looking at me, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder as he pulls me off to the side.
“Are you alright?” His voice is significantly quieter now, his gray eyes calm but serious in his bearded face. For once the laugh lines aren’t softening his severe appearance.
I swallow and nod, even though I can still feel my insides writhe.
I hate this.
I hate being the center of attention, the cause for the whole uproar—because of who I am. Even if I know in reality it’s Zollweg and what he thinks is alright to put on the ice. It’s not my fault he’s an asshole, but it feels that way.
“Sit down, boy. We’ve got this,” Coach tells me, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
I nod again, feeling like even if there were words I wanted to say, I wouldn’t find my voice.
Somehow, I get to the bench and only become aware of two bodies settling in on either side of me when Nate bonks his helmet against mine.
The referee’s whistle sounds again.
I pull myself together, looking over to where the striped figures have finished their talk, two of them breaking off to speak to the coaches while one steps out onto center ice.
“Number 17 St. Bernard’s Bats, game misconduct, insulting an official. Number 48 St. Bernard’s Bats and number 16 Bonham Tech Badgers, two minutes for roughing. Number 6 Bonham Tech Badgers, no penalty. The game continues.”
“What?!” Nate is on his skates immediately.
“No penalty at all?” Baker is just as outraged. I clear my throat but Hill, our captain, steps up before I can say anything.
“You wouldn’t even consider a game misconduct?”
“Not with only one accusation.”
“That’s bullshit! I was right there!” Nate stalks over to join Hill.
“And insulted an official. Now stop arguing and get back on the ice.” The second part is directed at Hill, who shakes his head but turns around to us. He studies each of our faces closely.
“What are we feeling, guys?”
I’ve always appreciated the democratic way the Bats are working, but right now I wish someone would tell me the right decision.
I shake my head, uncertain if anyone even notices.
“What’s the alternative to playing? Throwing the towel?” Taylor huffs, hands on top of his helmet as he walks up and down.
“No! The Frozen Four is right there!”
“We can’t!” Several voices are piping up, others just huffing or grumbling vague dissent.
“Xan gets two minutes for doingnothing, and I have to sit on the fucking bench while Zollweg walks away without a scratch? After throwing around slurs like that? We can’t just go back!” Nate’s voice is angry enough to hurt my ears.
“Idon’t wanna be on the ice with an asshole like that!” Baker chimes in, shifting his weight as he takes a step closer to me.
“But can’t you just...y’know...ignore him?”
I don’t know who said it, but everyone turns to me. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my head.
“I...no.” I clear my throat to make myself heard. I don’t want to be that guy, but I have to be. Because people think this is just a minor hiccup, something I just have to swallow and get over. Because there’s kids watching, wondering if this is okay. If insults being thrown at you is just something you have to live with and ignore but keep on playing through. That’s not the point I want to make.
