On Thin Ice

41

Coach Silva paced in front of the team as we sat down on the benches in the locker room while Coach Merton stood at the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Looking around at the rest of the team, we were a rough looking bunch. Everyone had bruised faces and knuckles, some even bleeding.

Our coach had been too silent since he entered the locker room. His silence was more terrifying than if he came in screaming. We didn't know what to expect from him and it was agonizing waiting for him to speak.

He finally stopped after a while, standing in front of us with a stern expression and his lips tightly pressed together.

"I honestly don't know what to say," Coach Silva started. "I never expected that from this group of players, truly."

The room stayed silent.

"Needless to say, we are going to be disqualified from the tournament," he continued. "And probably going to have to face some consequences from our league. I'll have to sit in meetings with the league board and try to negotiate with them not to end our entire season."

Fox glared down at his skates, the bruising painted on his face like permanent marks. All I wanted was to reach to him and take the marks and pain away.

"I thought it was obvious that fighting was not tolerated," Coach Silva said. "But apparently that message never got across."

Coach Silva looked over to Coach Merton, the two of them seeming to have a silent conversation, before turning back to the team.

"Everyone needs to go back to their hotel rooms and stay there. We will let you know what's going on and when we're leaving in a little bit," Coach Silva finished, dismissing us. 

We started getting out of our gear, frustration clear from Fox as he tore his pads off and threw them on the floor. I bit the inside of my cheek as I watched him undress, not knowing if anything I could say would ease his emotions.

Fox noticed me staring, dragging his eyes to my face and his expression hardening as he zeroed in on where my skin throbbed.

"Are you okay?" he asked me, tightly pressing his lips together.

"I'm fine," I assured him. "Are you?"

Fox scoffed and nodded as he threw a new shirt on over his head and grabbed his things.

"That kid's got a weak punch," he said, though by the look of him, the punches didn't look weak. 

Bruises created patterns on his face while blood dried under his nose and on his knuckles. There was a particularly dark mark under his eye that made me wince as I looked at it. A weak punch wouldn't do this much damage.

"What did you say to him to make him freak out like that?" I asked, grabbing my bag and walking with Fox toward the exit of the locker room.

Coach Silva had made us wait a little longer in the locker room until the other team had all made it back to their hotel rooms so that there would be no more altercations between us. Once he gave us the go-ahead, we left ahead of the rest of our team to walk across the street to the hotel.

"Literally nothing. He's insane," Fox grumbled, stomping along our path.

I gave him a knowing look, silently telling him I knew that wasn't true.

He sighed, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. 

"Fine," he said with an exaggerated breath out. "He was calling me all sorts of stupid names and then he started talking about you and I was like 'This is a bit much. Are you sure you're not in love with him?' and he freaked out."