Be There | A Dwayne Robertson Fanfic ✔️

City Lights

Arguing, arguing, arguing, that's all I hear. Coach hasn't shown up for our game, and it's about to start. So, everyone on the team is fighting over who should play what position.

"I can handle center," Dwayne says from the outer ring of the group, not that anyone heard him over their own fighting.

I place my hand on his arm. "Everyone, shut up!" I shout, getting all eyes on me. "Fighting isn't going to any good. We need to come to an agreement and compromise."

They blink at me for a few seconds, before returning to their squabbling. I roll my eyes, and Dwayne offers me a small smile. I shrug at him, mouthing "I tried".

"Hey team! Hey team!" Mr. Tibbles claps from the stands, grabbing our attention. "We're gonna be great today, right?" He obviously doesn't know our current situation. "Where's Gordon?"

Luis, sitting on the wall, throws his hand up. "You tell us."

Mr. Tibbles shakes his head, his whole body drooping. "I don't believe this."

We finally stop arguing, but a referee with a stern expression skates over to us. "Team USA, I'm sorry but without a coach behind the bench, you forfeit the game."

"You can't do that," Adam's face scrunches up as he responds to the referee. His blue eyes are narrowed, and eyebrows are raised.

Charlie flicks his eyes back and forth, before lunging forward. "We have one," he tells the ref. "Miss McKay!" he calls to our tutor who's walking behind the glass. Charlie pulls me by the arm, skating the both of us over to her.

"Hey Charlie, hey Meg. What's up?" she asks coolly.

"You have to pretend you're our Coach," Charlie explains. "Or we forfeit the game." He gives her a pleading look as she glances between the two of us.

"Where's Coach Bombay?" she asks, shaking her head slightly, making her hair bounce around her face.

I step closer to the glass. "Pretend or we're out of the tournament," I beg, looking up at her with desperate eyes.

"But, I don't know anything about coaching," she stammers, trying to find a way out of this debacle. The referee skates over, glancing at Charlie.

"Here she is," he points towards our tutor. "Our coach. Coach McKay." The ref looks at her suspiciously, as the rest of Team USA catches on, adding some "yeah, Coach McKay"s into the mix to make it more believable.

Miss McKay steps on the wall, standing up higher. "What are you waiting for? The ice to freeze? Let's play!" she shouts at us, surprising us all. While we cheer, the ref tells us to go, ready to start the game.

"Yes," Charlie high fives me as we skate back over to the bench, getting pats and gratitude from everyone. Dean ruffles my hair, and I glare at him while I smooth it back down.

The game starts, and Germany, the team we're playing, gets the first faceoff. They come closer to the goal, shooting the puck, but it's saved by Goldberg expertly. We handle the puck, but it's difficult since Germany is shoving us down and beating the crap out of us physically.

One of the German players crushes Guy right in front of the bench, where I'm sitting next to Luis and Charlie. "Ugh, we look tired," Miss McKay says, probably because we're still exhausted from last night's practice and then from our school puck game earlier. "We need to trade places."

Charlie scrunches his eyebrows, confusion written all over his face. I don't blame him, I'm in the same position. "What?"

"Uh," Miss McKay stumbles, looking for the right words to say. "New players."