The Sound of Ice

1

There are many situations I would rather be in. Getting chewed out by your coach isn't fun. At all.

"Beckett, are you listening to me?"

I glance up. Coach is pacing in front of me, his shoes slapping the concrete of the locker room floor. Behind him, a row of navy blue lockers flash in the fluorescent lighting. His face is twisted in a disappointed frown. God, I hate that face.

"Yeah, Coach."

"You can't let your grade slip like this. You understand? Being a good hockey player means nothing if you're failing out of high school."

"I'm not failing -"

"Really?"

"Just that one class -"

"Beckett, I know your future is hockey. I get it, okay? But you have one more year of high school, and it matters. You're the co-captain of this team."

"Yes, sir." 

"What class is it, math?"

"Yes. Pre-calculus."

Coach pulls at his tie. "Can you find a tutor or something?"

"I think I can, yeah."

"Do so. Immediately. Or you're benched tomorrow."

I wonder if he's serious. The St. Anne Lion's can't afford to bench me. Then again, he hardly ever jokes. 

"I will," I say. "I swear."

Coach puts his hands on his hips and stares at me, and I fight the urge to look away. I instinctively reach up and push my baseball hat lower on my head.

"Alright, get outta here," he says, and I don't hesitate.

~

Ethan Craley is leaning against the hallway wall with his bag hooked under his arm, the blue light of his phone illuminating his face. He glances up and grins as I walk through the locker room door.

"So," he says, the smile still on his face as he struggles to match my fast pace. "Another argument with Coach. What was it this time? Matthew again?"

"My grades," I say. "He says he's going to bench me."

Ethan laughs. "I can't wait for that day."

I roll my eyes. Ethan is the team goalie, and we've been best friends ever since he was drafted to the Lions last season. He billets with a family near me, so I usually give him a ride home. 

We push open the glass doors of Parkway Stadium, immediately shivering in the cold autumn air. Clouds in the sky hide the moon, and yellow streetlights shine brightly. Across the street of the stadium, St. Anne is lit up colorfully. We don't have skyscrapers or anything here, but downtown is always a fun place to be at night. 

Ethan and I slide into my car and he cranks up the heat.

"I hate your car," he complains loudly, waving his hand in front of the choking air vent.

"Give it a sec," I mutter, clicking in my seatbelt. My car may be old and crappy, but we're tight, okay?

Ethan flips through the radio channels and settles on an old station, and I smile. We play this game every time. He pretends he wants to listen to pop music, but he always ends up picking the 80s channel.

"So," he says as I merge on the highway. "You're failing school?"

I squint at my mirrors. "Just pre-calc," I say, and shiver. This car's heating really is not the best. "Can you tutor me?"