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I do wish I cared half as much as Coach Damon did.
Other than hockey, what purpose did I have here at Puckford University?
“Miss Morgan…”
“Rebecca is fine.”
Coach Damon nods. “Rebecca.” He smiles. “We’ve had a few of these meetings.”
“We have,” she says.
“I believe people are allowed to slip. To fall. But they need a chance to get back up. It’s not like Mr. Archer has nobody supporting him.”
Miss Morgan looks at me, her eyes bug-like through her glasses.
It’s her and two men.
Miss Morgan. Mr. Weatling. Mr. Broderick.
They’re all part of different boards and committees and all kinds of collegiate shit that I don’t give one damn about at all.
Ultimately though, they’re going to decide my fate.
“I want to hear from Mr. Archer,” Miss Morgan says.
“Please,” I say. “Jax.”
I wink at her.
I can feel Coach Damon ready to groan.
“Jax,” Miss Morgan says. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
I stare forward at Miss Morgan. My brain is telling me to just spout the nonsense she wants to hear. She wants me to tell her I’m a good person. And that I will study extra hard. That I will turn my grades around. She actually needs to hear it. It’s the only way I can save myself and the only way she can save me.
The pause drags out for way too long.
I can practically hear the pores on Coach Damon’s face opening, ready to leak sweat.
I suck in a slow breath.
In a way I guess my entire future is on the line right now.
“A tutor,” Coach Damon blurts out. “Jax is meeting with someone. Today, in fact. Someone who can help him. The athletic and academic schedule is tough. Jax can handle it. This is his dream. He’s getting help.”
My jaw tightens.
I turn my head and look at Coach Damon.
“Is that true?” Miss Morgan asks.
I look at her.
“Jax?” Miss Morgan asks. “I need to hear you speak at some point.”
I’m thinking. I don’t want to talk to you either. You’re just touting the collegiate line so you can collect your fat-ass paycheck.
“We do not have all day,” Miss Morgan says.
