Henriad (History Plays, Book 5)

17: in the adventure of this perilous day

Oddcastle

"We are doing WHAT now?" I honestly only left the gym because I was told there would be beer where we are going but I think it is how kidnappings happen. I really do.
"Your bit is not that complicated," Harry says, shoving a baseball hat down on my head and trying to adjust my clothes.
"Yeah, yeah you'll do great, I have so much confidence in you," Ned, also fussing with my clothes.
"Our coach is regrettably imprisoned. In order to play, we need a coach, and for reasons we're not divulging right now it's imperative that we play," Thomas says, as they usher me into the locker room where children are noisily getting ready.
"Yes—just don't say anything," Harry says.
"Well, I need to coach you don't I?" I ask.
"Do you know anything at all about hockey?" Harry asks, sassily.
"You're trying to get the little flattened ball thing into one or more of the net things," I say, folding my arms.
"Set the bar too low, yeah, okay that's my fault---okay you know nothing meaningful about hockey so I'm asking that you say or do nothing, all right? Just act encouraging and stare a lot. Solid man," Harry says, slapping my arm.
"I feel like I'm being condescended to. I was promised beer for this."
"You were lied to, sorry," Thomas says, darting off.
"Fucking kids," I mutter, trying to adjust the hat.

Henry

"All right, I'm going to be back in five minutes, if I'm not don't feel the need to do anything," I say, getting up and kissing Joan's cheek.
"What are you going to do?" she frowns.
"Absolutely nothing. Watch the game, keep an eye on Harry," I say.
"I'll keep an eye on my Harry as well," she tugs my hand.
"Five minutes---you five, four fuck, five, stay with Joan, be something resembling good," I say, making the v gesture to my eyes and then them as they roll their eyes at me. Little asses. The priest was crying after he was done with them this morning. We'll all have a fine time in hell someday.

Harry

I haven't put on my jersey in over a week. I let my fingers brush over the silky number 5 on the back. I smile. I argued to get that number as well. Coach Bill just rolled his eyes in the end and let me have it. I hug the jersey a bit before putting it on. My battle armor. I enjoy winning a game if not playing.
Then I sort in my backpack and find the cocaine.
"What is the matter with you?"
"What are you doing?" Thomas tries to stop me, as I cough, a hand to my nose so I inhale it and don't snort it out. At least that's what they do in the movies anyway. I have no idea how much goes up my nose since it burns and I automatically start sneezing it out.
"What in god's name?" Oddcastle asks, making sure I don't have more.
"We need to the game lost or a draw, if everything goes to shit out there and you tell them I'm on drugs, then it's a draw--job done," I cough.
"Okay, I feel like there were simpler ways of doing that," Thomas says, wincing.
"Well I did this, I told father that I'd handle it and I am, worst case scenario Oddcastle just refers me for a drug test I will not pass," I say.
"What does it feel like?" Thomas asks, clearly horrified.
"Nothing yet," I say, sneezing and coughing again.
"What if people notice?" Thomas asks.
"How he normally acts--? You know that? That's how people act high all we having going for us is that nobody will fucking notice, now get your bats and get out there with the rest," Oddcastle says, ushering us out.
"They're called sticks," I growl.
"Well, I don't trust you. You've done cocaine."
"Oh my god you're a drug dealer!" I groan.

Henry

I return just as the players are skating out onto the ice.
"How did that go?" Joan asks me, a little nervously. She and—yes wow all the rest of the children and Ned are all here in the first row by the Bard's box. I'm really surprised they're all still here. That's exceeding their communal capacity for being good. Wonder what Harry's been doing to make up for that?

Oddcastle

I guess I go meet the other coach person? A coin toss? Something like that? Don't look at me like that. I know fuck all about sports I am not a sports person. I know boxing and that's really just because I spent my youth hitting people.
"This is ridiculous. They'll never win," the other fellow scoffs, in his little coat that matches all his people's little coats, "I have an actual team who is prepared and know which end their goal is at."
"Oh yeah? Well I have a sixteen year old with a problem with authority who just did a line of cocaine," I say, spitting on the ice, "Good luck to you."
"You---can't speak to me like that---"
"I just did----no idea what the object is, but knock 'em dead boy," I say, patting Harry's arm as I get back off the ice and into the safety of the box. Who on earth came up with doing a fucking sport on fucking ice? That's just ridiculous? Also, I'm not seeing any alcohol involved.