The Assistant Coach (BOOK 1: OMEN KING SERIES)

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Kohl Warren

"Hey, over here, pass the damn puck!"

It's that obnoxious freshman in the bright yellow jersey again. I swear, I've passed him the puck so many times it's like he's my shadow on the ice. I decide to switch things up and pass to Ant, who's clad in a red jersey.

As I skate, I dodge a bulky yellow jersey guy barreling towards me. Ant effortlessly snatches the puck with his stick. Tim, a junior in red like us, gives a rough nudge to another player as we zip through the drills.

Coach Johnson is in his element, blowing that whistle like he's conducting a symphony of music on the ice.

When Ant scores a goal, the freshman players erupt in cheers like they just won the Stanley Cup.

It's a drill, for crying out loud. Their lack of teamwork is enough to make me want to pull my hair out underneath this helmet.

"What's your deal, dude?" The freshman finally works up the nerve to confront me, skating over with all the confidence of a chihuahua.

The other guys on the team quickly skate between us, creating a human barrier. Coach Johnson just stands there, arms crossed, shouting instructions like a drill sergeant at boot camp.

"You keep playing favorites with your buddy, and it's screwing us over," The freshman accuses, his voice filled with righteous indignation.

I take a deep breath and try to keep my cool as I explain, "I don't even need to look at your jersey to know that I've passed you the puck three times already. And each time, you either lost it trying to be a hotshot, couldn't see where the puck was, or just completely ignored your position."

The freshman starts to shrink back, either from embarrassment or finally realizing his mistakes.

"I'll pass to whoever I damn well please. Got a problem with that, kid? Tough shit,"

Owen gives me a pat on the back, stepping in to talk to the freshman, while Ant lounges on the ice, unbothered as always. This team is a disaster without our star players from last year. Winning a single game this season will be a miracle with this bunch.

It's like we are all playing a different sport and we are doing it individually. Every freshman here wants his shot to show off his skills, fair, but their egos are so big that they aren't showing off their skills, they're just playing like complete shit.

Coach Johnson calls me over, and I quickly skate to the penalty box, trying to keep my composure.

I notice the arena light shining off his bald head, giving it a white glow that I never thought possible. It's so bald and looks so smooth that it would put MJ to shame.

"Good work out there, but remember, you're the captain now. No need to fight with the damn freshmen," he says with a chuckle. His laughter sends ripples through his body, down to his round belly, which jiggles with each chuckle.

"Just tough love, y'know?"

It's moments like these that make me appreciate having Coach Johnson around, because the last coach gave a rat's ass about our season. He was more focused on making Tom Zenderski, last year's star, more noticeable than coaching us.

I finally arrive at the frat party thrown by the football team, with me, Ant, Owen, and Tim in tow.

The hockey and football teams have a good rapport, maybe even better than within our own teams. Considering the fact that the football team works better with each other, I'm sure that they are getting more girls than we are right now.