Page 49 of Cheap Shot

It was obnoxious that hockey came so naturally to him when we were younger, but now he was arrogant, and that would catch up to him at some point. Probably college when he was on a team of guys at his same level, and he got the reality check that he was not that special.

It was harsh but true.

“Even if you can get an excused absence, don’t you think Mom and Dad will figure it out? They always do.”

He huffed and fell back onto my bed, lying with his legs hanging over the edge.

“You know how they are. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

I knew exactly what he meant. It was easier to avoid them being here where I had the option to ignore their calls, but I remembered what it was like living at home. They took helicopter parenting to the extreme. They were still controlling my life, to some degree.

“Yeah, I get it.” I kicked my feet up on my desk. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m passing my classes but just barely. Dad emailed my teachers for my grades and freaked out at me. I’m staying above the minimum for any scholarship, but he doesn’t think that’s good enough. He wants me to pull all my grades up to a B average, but he doesn’t understand how hard that is for me.”

It was like deja vu listening to him complain about the same thing I’d gone through my junior and senior years. It was a constant clash of wills in my house. I should have been there for Jake. I knew better than anyone what it was like, yet when was the time I checked in? When was the last time I sent him more than a meme or a good luck text?

I was still fighting my own battle with my parents, but I should have been more of an advocate for him.

“I’m sorry. I want to tell you it gets better, but they’re still trying to control everything I do.”

He huffed and rolled over, bringing his legs up on the bed so he could see me. “It’s like nothing I do is good enough. It doesn’t matter that Harvard, Notre Dame, and Madison are looking at me. Coach even mentioned that he’s received interest from some NHL teams. Like I could enter the draft next year, but all Dad cares about is my history paper or chemistry test. When will I ever need to know the atomic weight of hydrogen? When?”

I couldn’t argue with him. None of his thoughts were things I hadn’t said to myself at some point.

“He just doesn’t understand that I’m not him. I don’t think like him. My brain doesn’t work the way his does. He’s so smart, and school came easily to him. He can’t wrap his head around the fact that we’re different. I learn differently. I don’t get math and science concepts right off the bat. I have to work so hard and spend so much time studying just to get a B, and it’s not worth it. Not when I have practice six days a week, plus games, plus trying to work in time to eat and sleep. Being at school for six or seven hours is a waste. All the other guys on the traveling team only go four hours a day because their parents have them set up on a special program with school. My school will do that too. They count a certain level of competitive sports as credit. There was a girl that did diving and went to the Olympics, and she got a special schedule to make sure she could fit in training. But Dad doesn’t want hockey to affect my learning.”

Once he was finished, I lowered my feet to the ground and leaned toward him. “I’ve been exactly where you are. I know what you’re going through. I had the same struggles. I’m not book smart either. I have to get help from the tutors and labs to pass my classes now. My teachers are really understanding about the hockey schedule, so at least I can tell you things will get better. You just have to stick it out. It’s your last year.”

He rolled his head toward the ceiling. “It sucks.”

It really did. Why did I let them still control me? They weren’t paying for school. I didn’t have a car, so they weren’t holding that over my head. They were my parents. I was taught to respect them. Listen to them. They knew best.

But did they really? Did they truly know what was best for me? Neither of them were athletes. They didn’t really appreciate what Jake and I were going through. How much pressure was on us from our team and coaches. Plus, the expectations we put on ourselves.

Maybe it was time to stand up to them. It might not make much of a difference for me, but I could stop the cycle for Jake.

“Want to go to my practice?”

He shot up. “Can I join?”

I shrugged. It wasn’t unheard of, but I’d need to get permission. “Bring your stuff just in case.”

He hopped off the bed and followed me out of the room with more excitement than I’d seen from him in a while. When we got to the arena, I directed him to the locker room while I went to Coach Weston’s office. The door was closed, so I knocked gently.

“Come in,” his deep voice called.

I stepped in and shut the door behind me.

He glanced up from the iPad he was looking at and waved for me to sit.

“What do you need, Bayman?”

“Two things.” I decided to start with my brother as if that would soften the blow of telling him about the party. He couldn’t get too mad at me if he knew my little brother was around, right? “First, my brother is here for the weekend, and I was wondering if he could join us in practice.”

His eyes met mine and an eyebrow rose. “Has he decided where he’s going next year?”

I shook my head. “He’s got several schools interested, and he just told me some NHL scouts are looking at him too.”