Teen half-brothers Kain and Scott Banks, who live in a small New York fictional town called Dalton. They battle each other on the hockey rink while navigating through high school romance and drama.
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"Are you ready?"
I spin around and see my Mom standing by my bedroom door. She has a laundry basket on her hip and she's leaning against the door frame.
"Mmmhmm..." I nod my head slowly.
She walks over to my bed, sits down at the foot and pats the bed next to her. I walk over from where I was standing in front of the mirror and sit down on the edge of my bed, next to Mom.
Mom looks at me, I can feel her eyes on me as I look down at my lap. "What's wrong?"
I play with the loose strand from my shirt then I stop, pick my head up and look straight ahead at the wall. "I just don't want people to think that I'll be joining the team to get closer to Davis."
Mom bumps me with her shoulder. "Since when do you care about what other people think? Just ignore them. Just go out there and let your playing do the talking. Don't worry about what they think."
"Yeah..."
There's a knock at the front door, I get up and answer it. The front door is just to the left outside my bedroom door. Nate's standing on the front porch with his hands in his pockets. "Nate! What's up, man. Come on in."
I turn, leave the door open for Nate and he comes in, shutting the door behind him. "Oh, you know, just in the neighborhood and I thought I'd stop in and see you before your big game tonight." Nate says while following me down the hall and towards the kitchen.
We walk into the kitchen, Mom is standing by the counter going through the mail. I sit on the bar stool on the other side of the counter, in front of Mom. Nate stands behind the bar stool next to me.
Mom looks up from the mail and greets uncle Nate with a welcoming smile. "Why hello there, Nathan."
Nate nods his head. "Quinn."
I watch Mom and Nate's strange interaction then I chime in myself. "Nate said he was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by to see me before my game."
Nate slaps a hand on my shoulder. "Yup! Came all the way here to see my boy before he tears it up on the ice and everyone goes crazy over you and you become a big star!" He walks behind me, grabs me by the traps, squeezes and we both laugh.
Mom drops her hands down on the counter and looks at Nate weird when he said. "My boy." I don't understand why. Nate has called me. "My boy." or "My guy." for as long as I can remember.
Actually, I do remember when he asked me if it was okay if he called me that. I was about seven or eight years old, Nate took me of for ice cream. We got our ice cream and sat down at a table, we started talking about school and sports. Nate was telling me how proud he was of me and he wished he had me as a son. He asked me if he could start calling me. "My boy." I remember I was so excited, I had a million emotions going through my body and mind. I was ready to scream "Yes!" but instead came out "Why?"
