Josh's POV
Still angry as ever, I'm debating whether or not it's worth risking the change of running into my dad to go get a snack from the kitchen.
I decide it is.
As I start down the stairs, my dad stops me directly in front of the fridge.
"Joshua Hyland, WHAT were you thinking out there today!?" He scolds.
"Dad, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened-" I start, but he cuts me off.
"You let your entire team down. If you has just kept your head in the game, you would be never missed that pass. You would've seen that wingman coming up behind you. We would've won." My father yells.
"Look, dad I didn't mean to, there was a lot going on at the moment, I just am having an off day." I explain, reaching out for the can of Pringles in our kitchen cabinet.
My dad grabs them out of my hand, and produces a little bowl of fruit from behind his back instead.
"Haha, real funny dad." I say sarcastically, getting annoyed.
"Josh I'm serious. You need more discipline. No more junk food, no more girls, and don't spend longer than an hour on homework a night. You're going to go to the rink whenever I say. You're going to eat what I say, and only want I say, and you're going to train you butt off." My father starts to rant. I recoil in alarm.
"I've always done just great without all these restrictions." I complain.
"Do you think Wayne Gretzky or Bobby Orr ever slacked off like you have been lately. No. Now go to your room." My dad growls.
I storm upstairs, cursing under my breath. I look at the stupid fruit cup in my hand and pop a blueberry into my mouth. I rip the stupid posters off my walls. I smash my lamp off the side of my nightstand.
Maddie ruined my life.
