Chapter 2- Once Broken
*****
~~~~~
"Figure skating?!"
The second he yelled it, I knew he'd been drinking. All right. I was just gonna back off and not cause any more trouble... but he wasn't going to let me off that easily. He seized my arm as I tried to get away.
"Where do you think you're going!" he yelled, slapping me hard across the face. I didn't flinch, I knew better. That made him madder. "Figure skating! Of all the sissy hobbies to take up! No son of mine is ever going to be a figure skater, you got that!?"
I wanted to point out that I wasn't his son. But that wouldn't have gone over well at all. I know how to handle this. Don't make things worse. Just get away. I knew when he was sober again, then he wouldn't mind. I could talk it over with him then. For now... "Yes, sir."
"Good! Now go to your room!" he hollered, and slapped me again for good measure.
I went, privately seething.
But I knew I'd gotten off easy that time.
~~~~~
I wake up with a start, drenched in sweat. Ugh. Why am I having nightmares about that? Now, of all times! We've got our first game tomorrow, I really need to sleep. But going to sleep right after a nightmare only makes me have it again.
I thought my nights of useless contemplation were over, too.
I don't remember my real parents. They died in a car crash, when I was 2. All I really know is that my father was Korean, and my mother was American. And from pictures I know I inherited no physical traits from her.
I went to live with my uncle, from my mom's side—though I grew up thinking he was my dad. And I had no mother. But for some reason, to me, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Maybe I was just a strange kid. Wait, what's this maybe?
He waited until I was older, and started asking, to tell me about my parents. In a way, I wish he hadn't waited, but I know he meant well. He always meant well. Unless he was drinking. But then... he was a terror. An absolute terror.
My 'dad' doesn't drink anymore. He got married. She already had a kid, a six (now 10) year old named Alex. I guess there's strength in numbers, having one kid couldn't stop him but a wife and two kids could. He apologized to me once. I know there's not much else he thought he could do but... I didn't care about the apology. He'd stopped and that was all I was concerned with.
And obviously, he did let me figure skate. He was proud of me...
What time is it? 3 in the morning. I'd better not go to sleep just yet, still. Maybe fifteen more minutes. But I'd better start thinking about something else if I don't want to have another nightmare.
Suddenly, Russ sits up. "Tired much?"
I must've jumped six feet in the air. "What're you doing up?"
"Can't sleep. You know we've got a game in less than 24 hours? And with ol' workaholic behind the bench! Who could sleep?" He pauses, reflectively. "And I was havin' nightmares about Mrs. Madigan."
We both laugh at that. She gave him another detention today. In a 'normal' school, he'd get suspended, but luckily Eden Hall doesn't have a rule about some amount of detentions equaling a suspension. I get the feeling Coach would totally lose it if anyone on his team got suspended...
I look at Russ for a moment. Beautiful... did I just think that?! I think I did. Man, I really need to get it together. The last few days, I've managed to keep my obsession to a minimum... but...
Maybe I should tell him? ...What a stupid idea! (There's no such thing as stupid ideas, only stupid people having ideas. Does a stupid person having a stupid idea cancel each other out and make a good idea? Okay, I've officially zoned out. Zoning out irks me.)
"Hey, you okay?"
What kind of stupid question is that? (There is such thing as a stupid question, because that was absolutely not a stupid person asking a question.) Of course I'm not okay. I'm in love, and that's about as not-okay as you can get.
I'm in love. Did I just think that? I guess I'm not in denial anymore. But it doesn't make me feel a lot better. In fact, it makes me feel worse. Much worse. And alone. Empty.
Maybe because of the mess of confusion I call my thoughts, or maybe in spite of it, all I come up with as an answer is, "Fine. Just spacing."
He grins. "Good. Go back to sleep, or you'll be spacing at the game and Coach'll make you ride the pine pony." We both burst into laughter at that.
*****
Attitude. One of the things I admire most about him. Sigh. There I go drooling again, and in the middle of a game no less! But I can get away with it, since we're on the bench. I guess. As long as he doesn't notice. But I wonder... "Russ, you gotta teach me to talk some trash."
He grins at me. "It can't be taught, Ken man. It's gotta be the first thing that comes to your mind. You just gotta go for it."
First thing that comes to my mind? Easy enough. "Hey ref—"
"Uh uh." He slaps a hand over my mouth. "Pick another target."
Well, I guess everyone's attitude has their limits. I glance over at the Blake bench and choose the first player I see. "Hey number 44, you... uh..." It occurs to me that this time there's nothing coming to my mind. This definitely isn't as easy as it looks. "uh... you... you don't play real good." Oh yeah. Go Ken.
Number 44 seems to agree with me. "Yeah right."
That went well. "Shorter, man," Russ tells me when I shoot him a dejected look. "Get to the point."
I think for a moment, then stand up as one of their other players skates past. What have I heard the other Ducks say... ha! "Hey number 9! Bite me—" He shoves me as he goes by and continues on his way. I go tumbling back onto the bench.
"Now we're gettin' somewhere," Russ announces. And he smiles.
Such a beautiful smile...
