Page 9 of On His Team

I grin. “Happy New Year.”

“What are we doing?” he asks, forgetting all about his other skate.

“Retrievals. Twenty minutes.”

“You say twenty minutes like I haven’t known you for three years.”

I shake my head. “We’re not shooting.”

I start changing.

Mackey drags the other skate closer. “You’re doing the Aspen thing.”

I look over.

He smirks. “Ermington sent everybody’s report to everybody at midnight.”

Down the room, Stanley looks up. “In the spirit of transparency.”

Walker lifts his giant cup. “You sent mine to Beaumont.”

“I sent yours to everyone.”

“My report says I have a weak backhand draw.”

Stanley shrugs. “You have a weak backhand draw.”

“Fuck you, it’s not that bad.”

Mackey ties off his skate. “Mine has a chart.”

I shrug. “Mine has two.”

He pauses. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Sure.”

Coach comes in ten minutes later and doesn’t start talking. That gets everybody’s attention because usually, he is halfway through whatever he has to say before the door finishes shutting.

Instead, he stands in the middle of the room with his hands in his jacket pockets and scans the stalls.

“Ermington.”

Stanley has tape between his teeth. He takes it out. “Coach.”

Coach has his hands on his hips. “Office.”

The entire room makes the same sound. Every locker room in the world knows it.

Stanley looks around. “I’m a grown man.”

“Then go,” Blue says.

He goes.

Mackey leans toward me after the door shuts. “What did he do this time?”