A/N Heya to all you guys out there. Sorry this took so long but I still have a load of coursework to do (God I hate school). Plz review if you enjoy this – I thought that this was one of my more original ideas yet – what d'y'all think?
"This sucks!"
The Ducks didn't respond.
Averman looked a little dejected. He repeated his statement, louder, "This really sucks!"
Russ didn't turn around, "We heard you the first time, Averman." He continued walking.
The hockey team was making their way across the campus, aiming for the large building which housed the ice rink. No one looked happy at the thought of two hours worth of gruelling practice. Reily always worked them hard but today would be far worse: they had no doubt that he had heard of their efforts to get rid of him.
"Is Charlie gonna come?" Julie asked, quietly.
There was silence. All the Ducks knew the significance of Charlie's absence from the group.
"Would you if you were him?" Luis asked.
Julie hesitated, "I don't know," she admitted finally. "Being made to apologize…" she trailed off.
"I would."
The team looked at Adam, shocked.
"What the hell did you mean by that, Banks?" Portman took the offensive.
"What I said. To me, hockey is well worth the humiliation. But I'm not Charlie," he paused. "I reckon he will turn up though."
Fulton nodded in agreement, "If he doesn't come for the hockey, he'll come for the team."
"I don't know, man," Guy looked unsure. "He can be damn stubborn when he wants to be."
"And that's the understatement of the century," Goldberg muttered to himself.
The team crossed the lawn, vaguely aware of other preppies around them, and got to the icehouse. Ken opened the door but didn't step through into the dimly lit interior.
"We'll stick together in there, right?" he asked, nervously. "I don't think I could face the coach by myself, not like Charlie," he admitted.
Adam threw an arm around his shoulder and propelled him inside, "Don't worry, Kenny. The Ducks fly together, and there isn't anything that's going to change that – not even our favourite sadist."
Portman chuckled, "Just let him try."
The Ducks had just finished changing when Charlie Conway banged open the door to the boy's changing rooms and moodily dumped his skates on the bench. Guy looked at him, surprised but happy.
"Hey, man. We didn't think you'd show. Where've you been?"
Charlie pulled open his locker a little too enthusiastically and the clang echoed around the room. He grimaced and pulled his hockey gear out, "Nowhere," he replied shortly.
The Ducks looked at each other and then at the captain. There was silence.
"We're gonna be late," Dwayne had missed the magnitude of the moment completely. He picked up his skates and moved to the door, "You guys?" he asked, puzzled, when no one made a move to join him.
"Coming, Dwayne. The girls are gonna to be out there by now and sure as hell they're not going to be too pleased with us if we leave them alone with Reily," Russ said, moving to join the Texan. Luis nodded in agreement and opened the door, the three of them making their way onto the ice.
Averman looked at Charlie, apologetically, "I've got to go as well. I don't want him getting mad at me again," he shuddered, "it was bad enough last time. Coming Kenny?"
Ken looked at him agitatedly and nodded, nervously making his way across the room, hockey stick held out in front of him like a shield. They both exited.
Fulton looked across at Portman, "Hey, dude, we can't just leave them out there: they're all so small."
Portman nodded in agreement and grabbed Goldberg's arm, "Come on," he started dragging the shorter boy towards the door, "we could use the extra pounds behind our muscle."
Goldberg shrieked in protest about needing the loo but was dragged towards the door unheedingly by the relentless Bash Brother.
Fulton smothered a grin and looked at Charlie, catching the boy's eye as he strapped on his left kneepad, "Good luck out there, man. Be cool."
Charlie nodded, mutely, and Fulton returned the gesture before catching up to Portman, handing him his hockey stick, and helping him drag the hapless Goldberg to the rink.
Guy and Adam were the only two Ducks left now with their Captain.
"Charlie," Adam started.
Charlie grunted at him, pulling off his normal sock, without looking up at his roommate.
Adam sighed. He moved towards his seated friend and stood over him, his extra two inches allowing him to tower over his Captain.
"Listen to me, Charlie!"
Charlie looked up at him, surprised by Adam's tone.
"What is it, Banksie?" he asked, exasperated.
"Don't do anything stupid out there! You hear? We don't want you getting into any more trouble," Adam's voice was low but forceful.
Charlie looked down.
"Just stay out of his way," Guy suggested, brightly, "he won't do anything if he's not provoked."
Adam nodded.
Charlie looked at them, disbelief etched on his features, "What? So you're saying that going to the Dean's office and trying to get him sacked isn't provoking him?" He glanced up at the clock, "And I'm going to be five minutes late for practice, even if you leave me alone right now," he picked up a thick sock and started pulling it on. "Don't try and tell me that this lesson isn't going to be hell for all of us, because it is. Maybe you could save the team a little from his wrath by turning up on time to practice, instead of berating someone already way up on his list of "Who's Pissed Me Off Today". And if you want to do that I'd suggest moving your asses quickly – it's 28 minutes past and you've got to put on your skates."
Adam and Guy looked at each other, lost for words. They knew Charlie was right but they didn't want to abandon him to the Coach's fury. Guy glanced nervously at the clock.
"Go, damn you! You think you're helping, standing there? I've gotta get changed," Charlie had finally completed the swap of socks and pulled his shirt over his head.
Adam nodded and they both made their way dispiritedly to the door, walked through it and down to the ice rink, shutting it behind them.
Charlie ran his hand through his curly brown hair, agitatedly. He picked up his Duck's jersey, shoved it on with little ceremony, and then focused on getting all the rest of his padding on, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the sharp blasts of the whistle as his Coach called the rest of his team to him.
He hurriedly picked up his hockey stick and skates and walked quickly to the door. He paused, his hand on the handle. He took a deep breath and told himself that apologizing to Reily wasn't all that big a deal, exactly what he had been repeating to himself all afternoon. With a mental shove, he forced his hand to obey his brain and opened the door, quickly making his way down to the ice.
He sat on the end of one of the benches and pulled his skates on. He got up and, shakily, made his way onto the fresh ice. Once on the frozen water, his grace returned and he easily dodged all his team mates as they practiced passing the puck quickly and accurately to each other, making his way to the far corner where Reily was casually leaning against the side, watching the play.
He slewed to a halt in front of his Coach. The man looked at him, not even bothering to feign surprise at the show of the player, who he had said could skip hockey.
There was a silence. Charlie was unwilling to speak first and nervously ran his tongue over his chapped lower lip.
"Yes, Conway?" the Coach's voice was disturbingly pleasant.
"I'm here, Sir," Charlie murmured rather pathetically he thought, grudgingly sliding down to one knee under the Coach's stare.
"I noticed," the Coach said, dryly. "But why, Conway? I thought I told the Dean that you didn't have to come to practice today."
"You did, Sir," Charlie fixed his eyes to a dark scuffmark on the wall behind Reily.
"Well?" his low voice held a faint trace of humour and Charlie knew that the man was enjoying every single moment of his fake bemusement.
"The Dean told me to apologize to you," Charlie fought to keep the bitterness he felt out of his voice, knowing that the Coach would find it even more gratifying if he showed his emotions.
"Why, Conway?"
Charlie paused and, keeping his voice steady, he replied, "Because I lied to him about you, Sir."
"Really?" Reily raised one eyebrow. "What about?"
"He wouldn't believe me when I told him that you locked me in here overnight, Sir," his tone conveyed exactly what he felt about the Dean and the ensuing "Sir" was faintly mocking.
The Coach was silent and Charlie immediately feared that he had gone too far. He wondered, miserably, what his punishment was going to be.
"You'll see me after practice, Conway," Reily's voice was dark. Charlie nodded, cursing himself for insulting the Coach so obviously.
The man raised the black whistle hung around his neck to his lips and blew a high, loud blast. "Ducks, to me!" he yelled in the ensuing silence.
All the Ducks hurriedly skated over to their Coach, dropping to their knees beside Charlie. The Coach surveyed them all for a moment, his gaze lingering on Fulton and Portman. He smiled and all the team shuddered inwardly at what the expression suggested.
"I am moderately happy with the change I have witnessed in these last short weeks. Before I came to Eden Hall, you were all slovenly and undisciplined. I have changed that, as is obvious to see," he gestured towards their kneeling figures. Charlie, Portman and Fulton stared at him through narrowed slits, all three ashamed at the control the man had over them.
The Coach continued, "But what is still lacking is control over the game play. The Ducks winning the league shows that your unruly tactics work to a point, but, have no doubts, your opponents will find them no obstacle this year, as they will all be trained to know exactly how to combat them."
He smiled again, "This year I will take your skills and improve them by adding practiced strategies into your normal play." He paused, "I feel that this week will be a good time to start building on the enforcers' roles in the game. Stand up Reed and Portman and follow me. You others follow but I want five metres between you and us."
He moved around the rest of the team and skated out to the centre. The others followed, uncertainly. Portman and Fulton looked at each other, anger showing on their faces: they had never been shown how to enforce – it had just come naturally.
The team fanned out, watching the Coach as the Bash Brothers warily made their way towards him.
"Now," the Coach looked at them all, "I used to be a enforcer myself when I was playing in the league – "
"Doesn't surprise me one little bit," Averman murmured to himself, careful not to allow the Coach to hear.
"– and so I know a few things about tactics. For example, if I do this," he moved towards Portman, grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him backwards over his knee, "my player is totally unarmed."
Portman winced in pain from the floor and got up, annoyed at the Coach's ability to take him down so easily.
"Or maybe if I try this one it has much the same effect," he skated towards a wary Fulton and slammed into him at an odd angle, leaving the large boy lying on the ice, holding his chest and stomach and groaning in pain.
"That one is one of my personal favourites," he confided to the shocked group of smaller Ducks watching.
Portman skated to Fulton, knelt down and offered his hand. The winded boy winced as he took it and was pulled his feet.
The Coach smiled at the Bash Brothers, "Now then you two, I want you to practice those moves."
The Bash Brothers looked at him as if he was mad. Portman raised his eyebrows and stated simply, "On who?"
The Coach looked at him venomously, "What, Portman?"
"I was wondering, who did you want us to practice on, Sir. We don't normally try out our moves until a game."
The Coach smiled, "I know and that is probably why your game is so appalling." Reily chuckled, "As for your question, I want you to practice on your team. How else do you expect to perfect the actions?"
The team looked shocked at the news.
"You're mad!" Charlie exclaimed, unable to control his mouth after what he had just heard.
"Really, Conway?" the man's tone was icy. "Maybe to prove my sanity I will make you the first volunteer. You are Captain, after all. Step forward, Conway. Reed, try the move I made on Portman."
Fulton looked at the Coach for a second but saw the resolution in his eyes. He moved towards his Captain and looked at him, unsure of what to do. Charlie nodded to him, signalling he was ok with it. Fulton held his shoulder and, almost gently, threw him backwards over his knee.
The Coach looked at him, angrily, "Reed, that was awful." He looked slyly at Portman, "I'll show you it again, just to make sure you get it right."
He moved swiftly towards the Bash Brother and threw him over his knee, nowhere near as gentle as Fulton had been on Charlie. Portman lay on the ice in pain for a few moments before shakily getting back on his feet.
Fulton threw the Coach a nasty look.
"Now then, Reed, you'll try that manoeuvre again on Conway but this time you better make it worth my while. Otherwise I'll have to show it to you again, and that could be painful for Portman here."
Adam looked at the man, aghast. He was blackmailing the Bash Brothers to hurt their own team. If they didn't comply, he would hurt them!
Fulton moved slowly towards Conway once more, his eyes apologetic. Once again, his Captain nodded his consent and the Bash Brother seized him and threw him like their Coach had told him. Charlie landed heavily on the ice and swore quietly to himself: the padding couldn't take all the pain away from a fall like that.
Slowly he got up and skated back to where he had just been standing, his breath catching in his throat.
The Coach ordered Portman to try the action he had hurt Fulton with. Portman stood there, arms crossed, "And if I say no?" he asked bluntly, "I don't want to hurt my team and I don't want you to hurt my Bro. What if I leave right now? What would you do about it? Whatever it is, it can't be worse than this." He jabbed his hand in the direction of Charlie and Fulton.
The Coach looked at him steadily, "If you said no, Portman, I would be forced to find a new enforcer." He looked around at the speechless Ducks, "Maybe Averman or Wu would be up to the challenge. They're quite little but if they stood up to the first couple of times, I'm sure they'd get through without too serious an injury."
Portman swore. He either continued hurting his team himself or he allowed the Coach to do it more viciously to the smallest guys. He had no choice, and both Reily and him knew it.
He nodded and moved slowly towards Guy, the next "volunteer".
Charlie watched silently as the practice proceeded. He knew now how the Coach was punishing them for trying to get him thrown out of Eden Hall. He winced as Averman hit the ice, his small body taking the fall harsher than he himself had. He felt hatred coursing through his veins and he hoped fervently that Bombay would contact him soon.
"That's enough of those two manoeuvres for now, I think." The Bash Brothers looked up at the man, silently thankful for his change in heart. Charlie looked at his Coach and knew better: a smile was playing at his lips.
"I want to show you a different attack," the Bash Brothers looked murderously at their Coach for intentionally raising their hopes. "But this time I want you both to see it. It's the most vicious engagement I know and I want you both to know it."
Charlie felt a needle of fear pierce him for he knew where this was leading. The Coach flickered his eyes onto him and smiled maliciously, and Charlie knew he would regret ever having met the Coach in the next few seconds.
"Ah, yes, Conway," Reily said softly, "you're going to be my next volunteer," and he beckoned to Charlie to join him.
A/N Hoped you enjoyed! Review please – I'm more likely to write another chapter sooner (ok, that was a bad attempt at bribery). More action coming soon. If any hockey buff is feeling particularly nice it would be great to get a list of "proper" hockey words to get my story sounding professional. For example – what is that whole kneeling thing actually called?!? I can't just keep calling it kneeling thing, can I? I no nothing about hockey so anything would be greatly appreciated!
Sophie xxx