The Cocky Hockey Captain

Chapter 29 ● Counseling The Unhinged

In the end I wasn't allowed to skip practice. Dean left me alone for the rest of the day and the hours counting until practice were even more terrifying than the morning had been.

I was under attack. What kind of war was this if I secretly wanted him to win?

I knew he was not going to try anything while we were in the middle of drills, not exactly because of who was watching but more for the fact that he was always 100% focused on practice. He skated the hardest, his passes were the most accurate, and he also had a hawk of an eye on everybody who was not giving it their all. I was not in any risk of seduction while he berated me for taking breaks that were too long. He was also not in any risk that I'd jump him in the middle of the ice when all he made me feel was like flipping him the bird.

And I did. Twice. Things had got a little heated since this was the last week of practice leading to the make or break game of the season.

"Bernal," Coach called out from the side.

I skated a nice turn that I wouldn't have been able to achieve in my dreams four months ago. The pride for that was dimmed by the constant fear that every time someone called my name, it was for the nefarious purpose of revealing my lies to everybody. I forced my heart rate to slow down as I skated over to where he and Gauthier were standing.

"What's up, Coach?" I asked, panting. I hoped it came across as a result of the exertion, and not on the fact that I grew more and more nervous with each passing day.

Coach Martel said, "Get your stuff. You're done with practice for the day."

I froze and opened my mouth. He did a double take and chuckled.

"Nothing bad, kid. I just thought you should spend the last half hour of practice on something different."

"Oh." I dialed it back down to zero, looking from one man to the other. "Alright, Coach. What do you have in mind?"

"In light of the conversation with your dad, I was thinking that from today on we could try a little counseling," Coach said, jerking a thumb towards Gauthier. The meaning was very clear. The counseling was to be given by the Assistant Coach, and I was the one to be counseled.

I felt my brow plunge and my face scrunch up. "Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"Not if you want to remain in the team," Coach Martel said with far too much of a chirp in his voice.

"Fine," I said as I yanked my gloves off. "Lead the way."

Gauthier made no reaction other than to turn and motion after me with his hand. I skated out of the ice and followed him to the locker room, except at the last second he made a turn and headed farther into the hall. I cleared my throat.

"Um, sorry sir. But the floor is too slippery in that area to go with my skates," I said.

He seemed to just realize that he was wearing shoes and I wasn't, so he agreed to wait for a few minutes until I changed out of the skates. As I unlaced them I wondered what the whole deal was about. Had the school forced them to do this, to deal with my violent tendencies? That was probably the case. I could see how they thought I was a liability to the team, more than an asset, now that they had discovered just what was the fuel behind my explosive punches.

But on the other hand I would have much preferred it if it'd been Coach Martel doing the counseling.

Gauthier waited for me outside when I came out, and I followed him down hallways dimly lit up with halogen lights. It tinted everything with surreal shadows, given that little light was coming in from the windows at this time of the evening. He veered left on the next hallway toward the infirmary, a place I'd met soon after tryouts when Dean and the coach forced me to get my hand checked for breaking Kyle Bouchard's nose. I hesitated outside, but Gauthier was starting to grow visibly impatient.