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The vibration of my phone startles me as I continue walking toward the arena. Pulling it out of my pocket, it’s a message from Flynn, another staff member here at Groveton. He is a counselor for the students. My heart drops. What’s wrong?
Coming to a stop. My heart is racing, he doesn’t usually text. The advisors and counseling staff all have each other’s numbers. Our students could have crossovers and we like to keep each other in the loop, as needed and within reason, without breaking any confidentiality. I swipe my screen and open the text.
Flynn
11pm
Tonight
End of semester fire at the abandoned Grange Manor
I readit at least five more times, my face scrunching up as I decipher his message. My first thought is thank goodness everyone is ok. My second thought is, do the staff actually do this? They must. Why else would he text this? Unless it’s a last-minute thing, I would think I would have heard about it sooner if it was tradition. But, I guess it could be fun. Let loose for afew hours before going back to my lonely apartment. The Grange Manor is an amazing location, too. It’s kind of creepy, something I love. Spooky season is a favorite of mine. And the best part is it’s far away from students.
The Manor is well off campus, at least a thirty-minute drive. The family that once lived there are rumored to have just left one day and never returned. Absolutely no student would find us there. It could be fun to check it out after the game.
Replying to Flynn,
Sounds great! See you then.
When I start walking again,I see the arena has a slight line to get in, which is exciting. Games are so much more fun with more people in the stands. The players thrive off the energy of the crowd. I pull my lanyard out from under my hoodie where my staff badge hangs, and show it to the ticket kids at the doors, “Hey, Ms. Banks. Happy Holidays,” one says to me. It’s a volunteer position where a group of students rotate doing it, tonight it’s Jaden and Kane. They are good kids.
Some volunteer because it will look good on their resume when applying for jobs after they graduate. Others, like Kane and Jaden, love the game and want to be involved in any way they can. Plus, they get free tickets to watch after the doors close.
“Happy holidays, guys!” I smile back at them as I pass through the doors.
The main concourse is packed with people. Some are in line for drinks and snacks, others just hanging out before puck drop. I love it all, nothing better than game night at home. Weaving through the crowd, I pass the staff entrance door off the main hallway and continue walking toward the double doorsthe players go through, they are closer to the dressing room. Scanning my badge, the doors unlock and I push one open and slip through, making sure it closes behind me.
These guys sometimes have a handful of females waiting at these doors. The last thing Coach needs is one sneaking in. He would lose his shit. The guy doesn’t mess around when it comes to game night.
This is my home game routine: come to the arena; wish the guys luck; and then go to my regular seat, center ice behind the bench.
Just before walking into the dressing room, I put my hand over my eyes, slightly covering them like a visor, “Is everyone decent?” I shout into the room.
“Ms. Lewis, where would the fun in that be?” Trace hollers back at me. Cheeky bastard, I have to give him that much.
“Yeah, come on in Ms. Lewis,” Brandon yells. The guys call him Smiley because he is always happy, not the brightest bulb, but he doesn’t let that get him down.
Removing my hand visor from my face, I walk in. Guys are lined on either side sitting on their bench at their wooden lockers. They have a shelf and hanger space behind them, which houses their gear and jersey. Coach Taylor walks in behind me, his one hand goes on my shoulder, making me aware he is there. I try to move out of the way as he begins to move his hand, it brushes faintly along my back, which is not normal for him but I’m sure he means no harm by it.
Bringing my attention back to the team, “I just wanted to wish you guys a great Christmas break and I hope you kick Richardson’s ass!”
The guys cheer, “Fuck yeah, Ms. Lewis.” Trace stands, and fist pumps into the air bringing a smile to my face.
My eyes wander over to the twins.
Landon’s face remains expressionless as he looks at me. His eyes feel like they are looking through me and into my soul. It’s eerie. Moving my gaze to Hudson, he is wrapping his stick with precision and focus with his dark hair hanging slightly over his forehead. His lips move slightly. Mumbling something only Landon hears. The only reason I know this is because Landon slightly nods in response.
“You got it, Banks.” Hudson casually says while side-eyeing me and winking. A few of the guys whistle after it. I’m not bothered. I’m sure they are still pissed at me, for their grades and having to bag skates on weekends after break until midterms. It makes sense, I’m the problem, in their eyes.
“Well, on that note. I’m going to let you guys get to it,” I say to no one in particular before turning around and heading out of the locker room.
Coaches' eyes linger on me more than is socially acceptable while I turn to leave. Which is also completely out of character for him. Maybe he is having an off night… I hope.
I hear the guys do their team chant as I walk down the hall,
“Check Hard. Play Hard. Fuck Hard.”
“Shut the fuck up, would ya?” Coach scolds them. He hates it. I think it’s funny, but I would never admit that to them.
