34
Duck-N Dash
There's one thing I can always say about my friends; no matter how much trouble we're in, or if we're being stubborn about something, or think we can handle things all on our own, we're not afraid to call someone out on it. We're not afraid to be the one person, maybe the only person, to see that one of us is struggling and be brave enough to try and help, even if we don't want it. We may bicker and fight, and get on opposite sides of arguments, but we always find a way to become that cohesive group again.
Sometimes though, I hate how long it takes to get there. I hate figuring out that there were some who fell through the cracks because we were so absorbed in ourselves.
But, that's just how Ducks are, I guess. On the surface we're fine, but underneath we're paddling like hell. Everyone once in a while, a few get swept downstream, but the rest of them will be coming to rescue them.
Eventually.
"You don't have to sit and wait for my therapy to be over. I know you'd rather not be here."
Danielle lifted her eyes from her math book and over at her mom who sat cross legged on her hospital bed. Sure, sitting in a hospital wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, but it was better than being stuck at Eden Hall all day. Classes were boring, homework was being piled on by the work load, no one wanted to talk about how their friendships with each other were strained after being split between those who were playing hockey and those who weren't, the Varsity hockey players weren't giving any of the any slack, and if she heard the words "practice quiz" or "practice exam" one more time she couldn't be held responsible for her actions. The Ducks continued to play games to the best of their ability, but their track record of being the best was quickly dwindling.
"I'd rather not be doing math, either, but here I am," she replied, tapping her pencil against the pages of the thick book. Bumping the corner of her notebook with her elbow, she pursed her lips as she watched the paper fall to the floor. Tilting her head back, she let out a sigh, but didn't move to grab her fallen homework. The numbers looked like they were swimming on the page, anyway.
It wasn't like she wasn't going to use Geometry in real life. Being on the ice, a game was basically all geometry. She wasn't going to stop in the middle of a game and calculate the angle of a triangle between her and Connie and blah blah blah to earn a point for their team.
Evelyn Taylor chuckled as she pulled her dark hair back from her face. "Math was never my best subject," she explained. Danielle watched as she looked around the room. "You think I would've gotten the hang of it by now. I've been to hundreds of therapy sessions, multiple programs, and have counted the ceiling tiles way more times that I care to admit. By now there's a pretty good chance I'll go insane at some point."
Danielle blinked. "Ha, ha?" she asked, making a face.
"You're not ready to make jokes about it, got it," Evelyn said, slowly nodding her head. She rubbed her hands together before sighing. Danielle closed her math book, making sure to keep her place with her pencil, sensing a parental talk coming. "I'm glad you've been coming to see me, Danni. I know it hasn't been easy."
"Sorry I didn't come earlier," Danielle replied. She knew things couldn't have been easy for her mom either, but didn't know how to put those in words. Or even if she wanted to. Visiting her mom has been…interesting if not awkward.
The first visit she had Charlie and Fulton there who looked like they were trying really hard not to say the wrong thing that t looked more like they were constipated than anything else. She understood the sentiment; she didn't know what to say to her mom either apart from "How are you?", "How's therapy?", and "the food here sucks" as if she hadn't spent the past couple years in and out of hospitals partaking in mental health programs.
After that, things had been running smoother. Danielle could see real progress with her mom, and even got a glimpse of her old self, all the while finding a quiet place to study. And a place to avoid her friends as well. There was only so much complaining about Coach Orion she could take (which was funny given how often she did it when she was on the team). It was just all of the hockey talk; if it wasn't about Coach Orion, it was about how her friends wanted her back on the team, or she was realizing how much she missed being on the ice. Not to mention, all the times Dean Buckley tried to corner her to talk about her scholarship. Going to the mental ward of the hospital seemed to be the best people repellent. It sure as hell worked on her.
"No, don't apologize," Evelyn replied, putting a hand in the air, shaking her head. "I should be the one apologizing to you." She hesitated before putting her warm hand over her daughter's. "I know I haven't been there for you. I've missed so much, sweetie."
"I've missed you, too, mom," Danielle muttered.
"You'll see, when I get home, I'll be the mom you deserve to have," Evelyn continued, squeezing Danielle's hand. "You won't even have to worry about working—you shouldn't have had to worry about it in the first place." Her lips pulled back into a smile. "I know I've missed a lot of your games, but I'll be there in time for the Varsity/JV Showdown I've been hearing so much about. You
Danielle bowed her head for a moment before looking up at her mother, "I'm not on the team anymore, mom." Evelyn blinked. "I haven't been for a while. I quit."
"Honey…you love hockey," Evelyn said, sitting back onto the side of her bed. "Why would you quit? You're really good at it."
"Why do you think I'm here all the time?" Danielle asked with a laugh. "I've had plenty of time to visit dear old mom now that I have so much free time between school and work." She shook her head back and forth, chuckling quietly, but didn't say anything until her laughter had subsided. "How would you know? How would you even know I'm good at the game?"
Evelyn winced. "You're right," her mom agreed.
"I'm not even playing my usual position anymore," Danielle continued, talking over her mom as if she hadn't said anything. "But, I'm sorry, there's no way you'd know that. You said it yourself; you were never there." Evelyn winced. "You haven't been to a game in years, mom."
"I know I haven't. I'm sorry. But, I want to change that now."
"There's no point when I'm not even going to be playing." Danielle grabbed her fallen notebook and flipped the cover shut. "I quit because I was so tired all the time working and trying to keep my grades up." She used her hand and brushed her hair out of her face. "Plus, my coach is a freaking battle ax that doesn't make playing a whole lot of fun."
She could feel the tears suddenly coming to her eyes despite how rapidly she blinked trying to get them to stay back. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed to try and open her airways, but it was all coming too fast. "I hate it at Eden Hall, but hockey and the scholarship was the only way I could afford to go there," she said, feeling the muscles of her jaw ache. "No one cares that we thin Eden Hall sucks. No one but Hans, but now he's gone!"
Her shoulders shook as she sobbed; finally letting out the week's worth of frustration, pressure, and exhaustion hit her. "I hate it at school. But being there, I don't have to worry so much about being the daughter of the woman who tried to hurt herself. Multiple times! Only now I had to worry about my stupid coach, and my grades, the Varsity team, and being kicked out by a dean who cares more about the publicity of the school than its actual students. "
"Honey—"
"No one cares that we're not happy at that school, no one but Hans." Danielle repeatedly wiped at her eyes, sniffing. Finally looking up at her mom, she swallowed thickly. "He was the only one there 'cause dad was working all the time to help you." She was crying so hard she started coughing.
"Honey, breathe," Evelyn said, reaching out for her daughter's hand. Danielle pulled her hand back from the touch and sucked in a deep breath of air to calm herself. "I need you to come home, mom. I needed you to come home and be better ages ago. It sucks not having you around. There are all those mothers out there that daughters want to be like, but I don't want to be like you!" And yet she already felt like she was losing her mind with trying to keep everything in her life straight.
Seeing the look on her mom's face made a knot of guilt form and tighten painfully in her stomach despite feeling relived she could finally get her thoughts off her chest. She had talked with her dad and doctors a lot about mental health, how no one used the word "crazy", and how Evelyn's depression was something the whole family needed to support each other on. But there was only so much support she could give before she felt burned out not only on that topic but in general.
Not that she could really blame her mom; not only did Evelyn suffer from postpartum depression after Danielle was born, but she had also had a miscarriage later in life. Danielle didn't have her mom's brain or could read her mind, but she couldn't imagine it being that easy to continue through life thinking that she wasn't doing her part in being a mother.
Evelyn let out a long sig, her shoulders slumping. "Danni, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "I know it's been so hard for you. All I've been trying to do is make myself better for you." She gave a weak smile. "I've been trying to come home to you because I know you need me there. I didn't feel like I could be strong enough for you until now. I never meant to put so much pressure on you, your father, either."
Danielle shook her head back and forth. "You were always so happy to see that I was doing well no matter what," she said quietly. "I kept thinking, if I can just get good grades, things will be ok, you would stay happy. I know that's not how it works, but I was hoping. You were getting out, I kept my grades up, go back on the team, and everything would go back to normal."
"You're pushing yourself to the limit, Danni," Evelyn said, reaching forward to brush her daughter's hair out of her face. "You're fourteen years old and you should act like it." Danielle snorted; she had the selfish act down pat. "You should be going out with friends, and getting in trouble." Oh, she had no idea. "You should be having fun and getting interested in boys."
"Oh, mom!" Danielle groaned and Evelyn chuckled. She certainly was getting back into the swing of things.
"I'm just saying." Evelyn put her hands up defensively. "I've noticed Adam coming around here a lot."
"We're just friends, mom," Danielle insisted, moving to pack up her belongings, an excuse to keep her pink cheeks away from her mom's line of sight. "And we work together. That's all."
"Here I always thought you'd end up liking Charlie."
"Oh my god, stop."
"And then there was that incident with Fulton."
"I'm leaving now," Danielle said getting to her feet. "I don't want to make you late for therapy." She hesitated for a moment before kissing her mom on the cheek before she pulled her backpack onto her back. "Have a great day."
"Sweetie, are you sure you'll be ok?" Evelyn asked.
Danielle patted her warm cheeks with her hands. Her eyes were still stinging just slightly, and her throat still felt like it was thick and coated, her jaw muscles were still tight, but she felt like a big weight was lifted from her shoulders. "I think I will be," she replied with a nod of her head. "I'll see you later, mom."
Portman shifted in his seat as he waited for the bell to ring, signaling the start of class. He already wanted the day to be over. It was just the same routine everyday; get lectured, get yelled at for a harmless scuffle and exchanging of words in the hallway with a Varsity player, get yelled at during hockey practice, do homework, and go to sleep only to repeat it all over again.
He thought spending another year with his friends was going to be great despite the setbacks he had to go through to get there. It wasn't coming out as great as he hoped. Not that he'd ever admit it, but when Eden Hall had initially decided not to enroll him into the school with the rest of his team, he felt left out. Sure, a part of him expected it a bit, but he didn't have the time to prepare himself for it before Fulton called him asking if he was going to attend the prestigious school.
That was ok; Portman never went where he wasn't wanted. He just kicked back, cruised around Chicago, and did what he wanted, just like always. Until it became too lonely, anyway. He was too used to being around the other dweebs plain and simple. Despite the initial misgivings of how the Ducks and the ringers from around the United States were going to work together, they were one cohesive group of friends and that was evident on the ice during their games.
Truth be told, he missed how everything was. He missed all the inside jokes, and the burns, and the laughter, and just the unity that were the Ducks. Eden Hall had pulled them all apart. He wasn't confident in his abilities without everyone there in their own positions. None of them were. Eden Hall had stripped them all of their confidence, plain and simple.
"Hey, Portman."
"Speak of the devil," Portman said, leaning back in his chair as Danielle side-stepped him to take her seat in the classroom. Here came someone whose confidence was hard. Not as hard as Charlie's or Adam's in his opinion, but it was enough.
"Huh?" Danielle wrinkled her nose.
"Nevermind." Portman rocked back and forth in his chair. "Usually you're the first one here. What gives?"
"I was looking for Coach Orion," Danielle replied.
Portman did a double take before swinging his chair around to face the smaller girl. "Explain," he insisted (which, coming from him, sounded more like a demand). "Because I never thought those words would come out of your mouth."
"I want to be back on the team," Danielle replied. Portman silently lifted his eyebrows. "I miss you guys and I miss playing. I think I could just deal as long as everyone is there." She twisted her mouth to the side. "I think Fulton would come back, too. It's just convincing Charlie I think would be hard."
"Oh, I'm sure Fulton and I can knock some sense into him," Portman said with a grin, cracking his knuckles as menacingly as he could. Danielle shook her head, rolling her eyes. "I knew you'd come crawling back, eventually."
"More like, walking back with a bruised ego," Danielle admitted, making a face at him. She crossed her arms over her chest, turning away from him with mock haughtiness. "Well, if you don't want me back…"
"Not if you're going to act like that I'm not," Portman replied with a smirk. "We all know I'm the most important person on the team." He laid his hands on his chest. "There wouldn't be the 'Bash Brothers' without me."
"All right, all right," Danielle conceded laughing, "I get it." She bowed towards him. "All hail Portman."
"Thaaaank you," Portman chirped. He held his fist out towards her and Danielle bumped it. "No, but seriously, it's sweet that you're coming back."
"If Orion will let me, anyway," Danielle reminded him. "Something tells me he's not too fond of quitters. He was basically kicking us out the door, all the while holding it open for us."
"True," Portman agreed. He had quickly, and he meant very quickly, learned not to talk back to Coach Orion. Or to even talk under his breath, he swore the coach had supersonic hearing or something. Skating laps around the rink in punishment quickly got old, but he at least was getting them done faster. "Nah, but that's cool. Hopefully I'll see you at practice later."
"Fingers crossed." Danielle crossed her index and middle fingers on both hands. Her gaze then shifted to a spot over Portman's shoulder and he turned to see Scooter dragging himself into the classroom. "What happened to you?"
"You look like a drowned rat," Portman commented as the Varsity hockey player dropped heavily into his seat.
"Heh, thanks," Scooter replied before he let out a yawn. "Rick had us on the ice late last night and early things morning." He ran his hand over his face, wiping the water from his wet head from his face, before looking over at the Ducks. "You two haven't seen Adam this morning have you? He hasn't shown up for practice."
"Adam?" Danielle repeated.
"Cake-Eater actually skipping hockey?" Portman asked, sharing Danielle's tone of surprise. "That's a first." He shook his head. "No, I haven't seen him since...well, since Hans died."
"Well, neither has Rick," Scooter said with a sigh as he dropped his shoulder, allowing his backpack to slide down to the floor. "And he's not exactly keeping it secret that he's pissed." He lifted a hand to massage his shoulder. "I'm so tired I don't think I'll be able to stay awake through the test today."
"Oh noooo."
"No, no, no, no," Portman said, turning towards Danielle who suddenly flopped face down onto the table in front of her. She frantically grabbed her bag and started looking through. "Just calm down, you'll be fine."
"I completely forgot about it, how am I going to be fine?" Danielle asked, her voice muffled. "I didn't prepare. I didn't study." She brought her thumb to her mouth and started gnawing on the nail. A far off look came to her face and she said, more to herself than anyone else," I can't stay on the team with less than a B. If I don't keep my grades up, mom won't see me play." Portman grabbed her arm as she reached for her backpack.
"I swear, you'll regret it if you do this," he said quietly, leaning in close to make sure only she could hear him. "I won't let you do this."
"What are you going to do?" Danielle countered, retrieving the class's book and setting it down in her lap before pulling her arm out of Portman's grasp. She pulled herself forward until the table covered her lap and then looked him dead in the eye. "Tell on me?"
"Maybe," Portman replied with a nod of his head. "I've been through this before, it's not worth it."
"Portman, just leave it alone," Danielle said in a tight voice.
"No."
"Is there something the two of you would like to share?"
Portman sat up straight in his chair. He didn't even realize when their teacher had entered the room, or had even started the class. The older man looked back and forth between the two JV hockey players before an annoyed look crossed his face. "Mr. Vanderbilt," he called in a loud, booming tone. Scooter jumped in his seat, startled. "I understand you need your beauty rest but not in my class, yes?"
"Uh, yes sir," Scooter said, saluting the teacher. "Sorry. Practice was rough."
"Yes, well, I understand how important this upcoming match is," Mr. Sotori said, clearing his throat as he started around the room, passing out test papers. "Just remember that getting an adequate amount of sleep is just as important. I'd hate for that to impact your success on this examination."
"Yeah, me too," Scooter muttered, pulling his paper towards him after it was set down on the table in front of him. Mr. Sotori continued to pass out the rest of the papers (and Portman started in on his own test) before taking his place at the front of the classroom.
Portman hated tests in this class. They were never as simple as memorizing dates and facts (whenever he had to regurgitate the names of the books, the authors, and when it was written he was golden), but it was all about analyzing what they read in books and novels and was writing well thought out essays to thoughtful questions. Writing that much just wasn't anything he was really into, but that wasn't to say he was pretty good at it.
He talked tough and with shorter sentences, but he was book smart whenever he needed to be. He knew it wasn't something people would think just by looking at him at first. His grades could combat the reputation he had gained as being aggressive, or a goon, or someone looking for a fight. It was something he was proud of and he was happy to know that he achieved with good hard work. He was going to be sure he never gave anyone a single second to think that he was a cheater whether that was on the ice or off (he hadn't forgotten the Varsity team playing dirty during their spontaneous match). And he wasn't going to let anyone think his friends were that way, either.
Dropping his pencil, he grabbed Danielle's arm, stopping her in mid page flip. "Danni, don't," he said, reaching for the book. "You're only hurting yourself."
"Stop, Portman." Danielle strained to keep her voice low as she tried to keep her book hidden in her lap. "I have to—last time. I promise."
"No way." Portman gave the book a hard tug, pulling Danielle and her chair across the floor with a loud scuffling sound.
"All right." Mr. Sotori pushed his chair back and slapped his hands down onto his desk. "The two of you take yourselves down to Dean Buckley's office and explain to him what exactly is going on. That's an automatic zero for both of you. Go. Now."
Portman pushed his chair back from the table and grabbed his backpack from the floor, roughly pulling it over his shoulder. Easily pulling the book from Danielle's shaking fingers, he tucked it under his arm before making his way to the Dean's office. He had made this kind of walk plenty of times before, but it didn't stop his stomach from forming nervous bubbles.
It wasn't a long wait in the administrative office until Dean Buckley would see them. Maybe it was Mr. Sotori calling ahead, or maybe it was because his name was related to the Dean, he wasn't sure. Nor did he really care. He just wanted to get out of the uncomfortable chair he had to sit in across from the spectacled principal as fast as possible.
Both his and Danielle's silence wasn't helping matters much.
"Do either of you have anything you want to share?" Dean Buckley asked, folding his hands on top of his desk. He looked back and forth between the two hockey players sitting before him. "I have an idea for why you're here, but I've always liked to talk things out."
Portman suddenly became interested in the loose thread on his gloves and pulled at the thin piece of fabric. He could hear Danielle shift in her seat over and over and over. She sighed and then said, "Um…I…We're here because—"
"I copied off of her," he spoke up, talking over Danielle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her whip her head around to stare at him. Keeping his face forward and his expression neutral, Portman nodded his head in response to Dean Buckley's raised eyebrows. "I've been copying off her since I officially enrolled here."
"I see." He didn't sound too surprised, almost like he was waiting for Portman too mess up. Portman felt the muscles in his jaw clench. Dean Buckley asked, looking over at Danielle. "Is this true?"
Getting silence in return, Portman turned to look at his former teammate. She was sitting on her hands, frozen, jaw dropped just slightly as she stared back at the head of the school. "It's true," Portman said, speaking for her. "The academic system here is a lot harder than I thought it'd be. I wasn't prepared and Coach Orion insists on a B-grade at the minimum to stay on the team. I came here for hockey and I needed a way to keep my grades up to continue playing."
Dean Buckley pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, nodding his head. "Ok," he said quietly. "I'll get in contact with your parents to let them know whatever course of action we decide in your case." He pulled his glasses down the tip of his nose and looked at Portman over top of the lenses. "In the meantime, I will not and cannot allow you to play in the Showdown match against the Varsity players."
"I understand," Portman said with a shrug of his shoulders. "It is what it is."
"That's such a shame, Dean," Dean Buckley said, reaching for his phone. He lifted a spindly finger and started slowly punching in a phone number, using his other hand to remove the receiver from its . "You've certainly have been turning yourself around here, and it's all for naught. Even more so, it's another loss for your team. I don't know how they'll fare with this many teammates off the team. Might not even be a reason for them to keep their scholarships anymore."
Portman froze as the words sunk in. He and Danielle exchanged looks of horror before he set his gaze back on the head of the school who was sitting back in his seat, watching the two hockey players. His phone was cradled against his shoulder. "I'm sure the two of you remember the stipulations for receiving your scholarships," Dean Buckley spoke up. "You only keep them as a team, if you keep your grades up, no disciplinary problems et cetera, et cetera. No team, no scholarship."
"But…" Portman opened and closed his mouth. "Uh, but…" He sucked in a deep breath of air before waving his hands in the air. "Fine, whatever."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr. Portman." Dean Buckley let out a sad sigh. "Miss Taylor if you'd please leave us alone." Danielle hesitated before getting to her feet. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to call your coach. But, I'll let you do the honors of relaying the information to Coach Orion."
Portman shrugged, repeating weakly, "Whatever." He curled his hand into fist and bit down on his knuckle. That pain was nothing compared to what his teammates were going to feel when they were blindsided by the news.
"Don't skip practice again! You hear me?"
Breathing heavily, Adam stumbled into the locker room. Why did he think he could just avoid Rick? Hockey wasn't on his mind since the funeral, but how could he tell his captain that?
Sweat and tears of anger and frustration slid down Adam's cheeks as he wobbled on exhausted legs to the bench in front of his locker door. His skates felt too small, his hockey stick was too heavy, and his body felt like it was being pulled down into the Earth. He threw his hockey stick and gloves at his locker where they harmlessly bounced to the floor, the wooden stick following with a loud clang.
"Hey." Rick stormed over to him and roughly pulled at his arm. "Did you hear me? That wasn't just one practice, it was two."
"I heard you," Adam managed to get out around the stiffness of his jaw. "I'm sorry."
"Why are you crying?" Rick demanded, glaring down at Adam. "If you thought I pushed you hard, you have no idea what it's really like to be a Warrior."
Angrily wiping at his eyes, Adam pulled his arm out of Rick's grasp. That was it; he wasn't a Warrior. He wasn't into cheating, and mentally breaking another team just to get ahead. He hadn't having to stand by and watch his friends suffer at the hands of his new teammates. And it was only because his dad kept reminding him over and over again that it was a great opportunity and that scouts would be looking for out for things like that.
"Sorry," he said, bending over to unlace his skates. "I just…I couldn't do it."
"Look, I get you're still upset over Hans's death," Rick said, stepping behind Adam. He lifted his shoulders to his ears, a shudder rolling down his body. "But, I need you to keep your head in the game, Banks. The team is counting on you and we need to be in great shape for the Showdown. We brought you to our team for a reason."
"I know," Adam said, removing his aching feet from his skates. He sighed as he pressed his feet flat to the floor.
"And you should be proud." Rick's breath puffed on the back of Adam's neck. Reaching into his locker for his towel, Adam buried his face into the fibers. "This is why it's important that you keep up with practices. We've all put in our dues and now it's your turn." Adam felt a thump on his back, one that held more warning in it than friendliness. "Good work today."
Adam didn't answer, but he pulled his towel over his head, trying to block everything out. He didn't want the pain, he didn't want the threats, and he didn't want to be in the locker room anymore. He didn't want to be on the ice anymore. He didn't want to be seen as weak.
He didn't know how long he had been holding his breath for until it all came out in one rush. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he gasped for air, tensed his muscles, anything to try and calm him down and rid himself of the rage that was building in his body. He removed the towel from his hand and gripped it tightly in his hands. The white fabric shook in his hands. No, his whole body was shaking.
He got up to pace, nearly tripping over his hockey stick. Twisting the towel in his hands he lifted it to his mouth and placed it between his teeth. Bending at the knees, he gripped his hockey stick between his hands, looking over the sport equipment before he grasped it firmly in his left hand. Holding his right arm out in front of him, Adam lifted his arm over his head and brought the hockey stick down on his previously injured wrist as swiftly and as hard as he could, screaming out his pain and sadness.