✔ SLAPSHOT ✖ irwin au

twenty-eight.

k a r r i s

✖

Home was so close, yet so far. My body was crashing from sudden fatigue and I couldn't wait till I was finally reunited with my bed. Hockey practice had yet to resume and while my normal weekday afternoons consisted of yelling at sweaty, teenaged boys, the hiatus meant I had to find activities to keep myself occupied after class.

I stood before my locker, seizing my messenger bag and placing various academic items into the larger compartment. As I glanced at my open planner, using it as a guide in which textbooks and folders I should take home, a warm presence tickled my surroundings. Furrowing my brows, I looked to my left, and standing behind the metal locker door, was Michael and Calum.

"I thought I smelled Hot Cheetos," I smiled, making note of the open bag of junk in Michael's hands.

He pushed the snack towards me, "we have a proposition."

"Okay, speak," I pulled out a few pieces of the crunchy, red-orange sticks of heaven, carrying them in the palm of my hand.

"We know that you've been tutoring Ashton," Calum began, "and well, we tried studying on our own but--"

"--do you even own any of the textbooks?" I interrupted, raising a brow in mischief.

"Ha, ha," Calum scoffed as I chuckled.

"I'm sorry," I laughed, "continue."

"Will you tutor us too?" Michael went straight to the point, pouting his lips to embellish his proposal.

My eyes darted from Michael to Calum, who had the same hopeful expression painted on his face. The hockey duo stared at me in silence, patiently waiting for some kind of response from me. It wasn't that I didn't want to tutor them, or the rest of the team for that matter, I was just shocked of the fact that I was needed.

Me.

Of all people, they chose me, to help them out. Attention was something I never vied for; never thrived as my own personal agenda. So for two boys, who were at the top of the social chain at Willowridge High; who had girls licking the ground they walk on; who normally wouldn't have anything to do with an awkward nerd like me, were now needing me.

"I'll bring you more snacks," Michael's voice was sing-song as he shook the bag of Hot Cheetos in his hands, teasing me with my favorite junk food. "But seriously, we're in deep shit right now. A lot of us have a huge exam in Chemistry and our goal is to use that exam to raise our grade to a C-average so we can be back on the team just in time for the Brampcrest match."

"Karris, we know you love the hockey team as much as we do, and you of all people understand how important winning against Brampcrest is," Calum expressed, taking a step forward. His tall, muscular body blocked any view I had of Michael, and for a quick moment, it felt like it was just him and I.

I nodded in agreement, "beating Brampcrest means more to me than even I could ever understand."

"I understand," Calum's focus was on his black converse when my eyes drifted over to him. He did eventually lift his head, the messy disarray of hair draped across his forehead, almost poking him in the eyes. He swallowed in nervousness, "it's for Gabe."

I let out an exhale, silently agreeing with him. Reaching a hand forward, Michael rested it on top of my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze in assurance. His lips formed into a half-smile, the gesture alone warming me up from the inside out.

"Beating Brampcrest isn't just for Gabe, doing well in school is for him too," Michael disclosed. "I'm kind of ashamed," he shrugged, "Gabe never let us slip in class."