A/N:

I'm back with another Mighty Ducks story; this is inspired by an unfinished fic I read on here titled "Save Me," which served as the inspiration to this one. I'm pleased to say I've pre-written a lot of the chapters and that the story is nearly done, at least from all that I've been writing. Each chapter title is a piece of song lyrics taken from the Goo-Goo Dolls song "Iris," which I listened to on repeat while writing this.

This will be a rated M fic for mentions of sexual assault, hazing, and strong language. Hopefully, you all enjoy. If you want to read more, be sure to post a review and let me know what you think!


Chapter 1: So Sooner or Later, It's Over

Adam Banks was always the first one in and the last one out of hockey practice. It had been ingrained in his DNA from age five when he'd been in Squirts; his dad had played for the Hawks. His older brother Luke played for the Hawks. His little brother Connor would've been playing for the Hawks but was going to be in the Peewees for the Mighty Ducks like Adam was when he'd been Con's age. The sport ran through his veins much like his blood; he was surprised that his body wasn't filled with anything but adrenaline and sweat from years of being on the ice, and that he wasn't immune to the cold after years of living in Minnesota.

Even though they won against Varsity and Edan Hall's team now was officially The Mighty Ducks of Edan Hall, that didn't mean he was about to get complacent. He knew he was too good to be in JV in many ways, but he wanted to stay in JV. He begged Orion after their victory against Varsity to let him stay with his Ducks – his friends – and Orion didn't hesitate; Adam must've let his desperation show a little too much, though, because he hadn't expected Orion to let him stay on JV like that.

None of the Ducks knew time with Varsity had been his own version of hell on Earth.

He was treated differently when he was placed with the upperclassmen in Varsity. He was smaller than all of them, leaner, while the rest of them were larger, bulkier, and rougher; they gave Fulton and Dean a run for their money in terms of aggressiveness on the ice. Also, those guys were plain stupid; even Adam had to admit Charlie's horse manure-brownie prank had been pretty hilarious, especially when Riley fell for it. But it served Riley right for stealing Ken's lunch every day; Ken was the smallest of all the Ducks, which made him more agile, like he was dancing across the ice, but it made him vulnerable to more body checks and harassment than anyone else on the team. After Adam even laughed about the manure-brownie thing to himself, Riley and the others began gunning for him, determined to make his time in Varsity miserable.

Body checks during practice, shoves into lockers, following him into the restroom just to remind him whose side he was supposed to be on, threats that if he even talked to Charlie and the others, they would gun for him harder – it was almost common for him to get that every day. After he left them and rejoined his Ducks, they gunned for him even more, like he knew they would. If the Ducks thought he'd been a traitor for being forced on Varsity, Varsity thought he was an even bigger traitor for going back to the Ducks.

Gritting his teeth, Adam did another lap around the ice, weaving and practicing his triple deke. His skates cut through the ice, coming up in a trail of white flurries as he shot the puck at the goalpost, hard enough that it would give Russ's knucklepuck a run for its money, and he grinned slightly. They had their first upcoming game against the Hawks, and there couldn't be room for mistakes. Even though they were all at a private school, that didn't discount they would play against the other hockey programs in the area, and the Hawks were part of that – he would be facing Reiley again for the first time since the Ducks creamed the Hawks at the Peewees playoffs when he was twelve. The thought of that caused him to grin even more as he glided across the ice, making his way back around to the goalpost again. There was no way the Hawks could beat them. How could they lose between Charlie being reinstated as captain, Portman being back, Goldie being promoted to defenseman, the Cat being their goalie, Connie being one of their best starters, and him being their best when it came to the shootouts? A big part of him looked forward to rubbing it right in Reiley's face, the cockiness of being a Hawk slowly coming back. No matter how hard he flew away from the Hawks, a part of that attitude about winning would always resurface somehow – after all, a lot of that came from pressure from his dad, who still wasn't happy with him that he left the Varsity team.

"How'd your dad take the news that you left Varsity, Banksy?" Charlie had asked him the other day at lunch, Linda on his arm as they stole pieces of each other's lunch off their trays.

"He was devastated," Adam had told him, rolling his eyes. "He claims I'm throwing away my chances of making it to Augsburg and getting the chance to go pro. I thought he was gonna cry."

"Really? Your dad crying? Never thought I'd see that. Maybe he's going soft," Goldberg laughed.

"Goldberg!" Adam groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Ohh, I'm so sorry!" Averman taunted, putting on a fake wounded look with a hand over his heart. "Oh, oh! I'm sure he had a heart attack! Should we plan the funeral?"

"Shut up, Averman!" Adam had snapped, going for a swing at him as Charlie threw his empty Pepsi can at the nerd, and the Bash Brothers rolled their eyes.

Despite his issues with his dad, Adam still loved Phillip more than anything and wanted to make him proud. And despite Bombay's assurances that Phillips only wanted Adam at his best, that turned out not to be true when Adam had gotten an earful from his dad about the Goodwill Games and playing with a broken wrist and the scouts watching him so closely. There was still that part of him that wanted his dad's approval. With that in mind, he shot the puck again at the goalpost, this time aiming for what would be glove-side. He needed to change his positioning frequently because they'd lose their edge if he got too complacent.

Finally, after a good hour of extra practice time, the sweat basking down his forehead, he felt confident that he got in enough hours. Walking over to the benches, he untied his skates to put on his sneakers to head back to the dorm. Charlie was studying with Linda. Another reason he stayed behind to practice more was that he couldn't stand being around them during their study dates because they didn't study half the time. They studied a little bit and spent the rest of the night sucking face, and he winced disgustedly at the thought. He was glad Charlie found a great girl, and Linda was nice and not at all stuck up like lots of the other girls at Edan Hall, but still, he could only take so much of the two of them in small doses. He knew they were in what Connie and Guy called the "honeymoon phase" – Connie and Guy were well past that point and were a full-fledged couple; he wondered if they'd get married right out of high school and run to the nearest chapel.

Sighing, he finished knotting off his sneaker when he heard the doors to the rink opening, and the loud voice of Riley boomed through the empty air. Adam felt his blood go cold. He hoped if he stayed as quiet as possible, he could sneak out, and Riley wouldn't notice. He didn't want to get on Riley's bad side, not before the big game on Friday night. He wasn't about to miss playing because Riley and those boneheads decided to give him a hard time.

But as he gathered up his hockey bag, he heard Riley's familiar voice coming up behind him.

"Ahh, lookie here, boys," Riley was saying, "we've got a lone duck away from the flock. What's the matter, Banks? Why are you here on your own? Where're the rest of your loser pals?"

"Shut up, Riley." Adam turned around and fiercely glowered at the older boy, who was flanked by Cole, Scooter, and three other Varsity team members. Even though the school's logo had changed to the Duck, the Varsity players still wore their old jerseys with the Indian faces on them, probably because they refused to be associated with the Ducks and wanted everyone to be sure of that. Even Riley's stupid girlfriend, head cheerleader Gina Johnson, followed his lead, still wearing her old uniform.

"Look, man, I don't want any trouble," Adam continued.

"You were looking for it when you left Varsity to go back to those fucking losers," sneered Cole.

"Hey, let's watch the mouth, huh?" Adam countered. "Now, back off! I've gotta get back to the dorm; I have a test tomorrow and hockey practice for our game against the Hawks, and I'm not gonna screw up at any of it because of you boneheads."

"Eat shit, Banksy," laughed Riley. The others roared with laughter; Scooter, on the other hand, stayed silent.

"Actually, that's what you almost did when you tasted some of Charlie's brownies," Adam taunted. "So let me leave, asshole!" He heaved his bag over his shoulder and prepared to shove his way through him, only for Riley to grab his arm in an iron grip.

"What do you say, boys, we teach this little duckling how to respect his superiors?" sneered Riley. "He'd be lucky to find a woman who wants to screw him. Even his butt buddy Conway got the girl, and he can barely find one here!"

"Maybe if the girls at this school weren't cake-eating bitches and had more desirable personalities, I wouldn't mind dating any of them," Adam hissed. "Let me go!"

"We're gonna give you a chance you might never get, though, Banksy! After all, a screw is a screw. You should be thanking us, you little bitch."

"What are you talking about –?" Before Adam could even finish, Riley socked him in the face, hard. He felt several more punches aimed at his head, disorienting him as black spots danced in front of his vision. He went in and out of consciousness as they dragged him toward the locker rooms, Riley keeping him in a headlock while Cole and some other guy (he thought his name was Greene) had him by the legs. It occurred to him what they had in mind, and he went wild as his senses cleared slightly. He started screaming for Charlie, Portman, Fulton, Russ, anybody, only to be punched in the side of the head by someone else as they neared the toilets, and Riley had him by the hair, shoving his face into the water.

Riley held him there for a few seconds, watching as he struggled, as he briefly stopped breathing until they let him up for air, which wasn't long, and then shoved his head back in. A hand went over his mouth, and he bit down as hard as he could, drawing blood.

"OW!" he heard Riley scream. "YOU LITTLE BITCH!" For that, his head was pulled out of the water, and he was turned around to face Riley, who still had him by the hair, and punched him a few more times in the head; he felt blood trickling from his nose as somebody else grabbed his right wrist – the same wrist that got sprained in the Goodwill Games – and twisted it. He screamed louder as someone shoved a dirty sock in his mouth.

"SHUT HIM UP, FOR PETE'S SAKE!" screamed Cole.

"Well, where's the fun in that?" Riley let go of him, and he thought he had an opening to flee when he was suddenly grabbed again; somebody pinned him to the ground, their knees pressing into his elbows as they sat on his back. Somebody else slugged him several more times in the face as he heard the rummaging of hockey sticks, and the tears flooded his eyes finally, burning at them and pressing down as they streamed down his cheeks. He felt someone grabbing the waistband of his sweatpants as he was slugged again in the head. He tried kicking out, but someone pinned his legs down as someone reached for his briefs. He bucked harder, trying to get loose, but they were too big for him to fight off, much bigger than the Vikings had been at the Goodwill Games; he thought Gunnar and Sanderson and Stanson were bad; these guys were worse than anyone he'd ever encountered – never did the Hawks or Gunnar or the other Vikings stoop to something like this.

His eyes rolled into his head as he felt the pressure of the hockey stick pressing into his . . . his . . . He felt like he would throw up as he screamed, but nobody could hear him. He looked over at Scooter, silently begging him to help him, but Scooter, although not pinning him down with the others, did nothing; he just stood there with a torn look on his face, as if he couldn't decide what to do, but he did offer Adam a silent, fleeting glance of sympathy, as if to tell him I'm sorry. Nobody was coming to help him . . .


Charlie Conway chewed absentmindedly at the cap of his pen. He and Linda were reviewing That Was Then, This is Now for English class, and for once, he was enjoying a reading assignment; he'd read The Outsiders last year when Miss McKay was tutoring him during the Goodwill Games, and that kid Ponyboy reminded him of himself and his friends, how they were looked down upon as white trash because they didn't come from money, how everyone thought they were better than him and went out of their way to harass him and his friends; sometimes he wondered if Ponyboy's story was his. Except this book showed things getting worse than previously, and he nearly laughed at how it mirrored his encounters with Iceland and Varsity in his time with the Ducks.

But his mind was elsewhere while he attempted to read the assigned chapters for the questions they needed to answer tomorrow during class. He knew Adam had stayed behind after practice to get more hours in. But Adam should've been back to the dorms by now. It was nearing eleven.

"Hey, Charlie," Linda said, waving her hand in front of his face. "C'mon, we've got one more chapter we need to read tonight; we'll have questions to answer tomorrow."

"I know, Linds," he said. "I'm worried about Adam. He's not back yet. And he should be by now."

"He probably got held up practicing," Linda said with a shrug. "You said it yourself; he's obsessed with it; he's always practicing even when you guys are off the ice. He's even more competitive than you."

"Yeah, but it's past curfew. I don't want him to get in trouble." Charlie pushed his copy of the book away as he pushed his chair back. "I'm gonna go and ask around; I'll see if the others saw him."

"I'll come with you; I should also get back to my dorm, too. I can ask Connie and Julie if they've seen him around."

"Okay. But if anything, if Connie and Jules claim they haven't seen him around, tell them to meet outside the boys' dorm building. We can rendezvous and head to the rink, see if he's still there. Coach gave him the key to the place."

Linda nodded, kissing his cheek before she headed off to search for Connie and Julie. Charlie exited his room and headed to Fulton and Dean's, which was next door to his – he could hear their usual heavy metal music pounding through the walls, and soon enough, the hall monitor would come by telling them to turn the noise off. Sighing, he pounded on their door before stepping inside – with Fulton and Dean; formalities were almost unnecessary. He couldn't count the number of times they barged into his and Adam's room in the past week with just towels around the waist, saying "Hey" to them.

Nirvana blared from their speakers as they rocked out, pretending to play air guitar as they shook their heads out. Walking over to the stereo, Charlie lowered the volume.

"Don't you guys answer when someone knocks?" he demanded.

"What is it, Captain?" asked Fulton.

"Banks is missing. Have you guys seen him?"

Portman and Reed shook their heads. "No sir," they said together.

"I'm checking with the others. If they say no, the team's meeting outside. We've gotta find him, or he'll get a disciplinary strike. And we can't have our best man out of the game on Friday," Charlie said in his "leader" voice as he exited the room, heading down the hall to Averman and Guy's room. When he knocked, Guy answered, wearing no shirt and a pair of boxers – he'd been working out regularly in the weight rooms. He began bulking up more lately, making him even more attractive to Connie and even more annoying as a couple than ever before, because Connie spent all her time staring at him, moon-eyed.

"Have you seen Adam?"

"No, Banksy's not here, man," said Averman, who was already lying in bed, his copy of Wuthering Heights open across his stomach (Averman was in the advanced English class with Adam; they were two of the smartest out of everyone in the group).

"Okay, I'll check with Russ and Kenny, and then Mendoza. We're meeting outside if Dwayne and Goldie haven't seen him. I can bet Linda's out there now with the girls." He wandered to the other guys' rooms; the same answer: Banks was nowhere to be found. Sighing, he gestured for Goldberg and Dwayne to follow him, even though Goldie was in pajamas. The other guys seemed to get the message because they all exited their rooms and followed him outside, shrugging on their winter coats over their pajamas. Charlie shrugged his letterman jacket on, but Averman noticed he was still barefoot.

"Uh, Charlie, I think you gotta wear shoes or something outside, Spazway. Unless you don't want all ten toes."

He didn't even add a "Shut up Averman" before racing to his room; he stepped into snow boots, not bothering with socks. The boys all exited the dorm and saw Connie, Julie, and Linda already waiting outside; Linda had her arms wrapped around her shoulders to protect herself against the chill, and Charlie wrapped his arm around his girlfriend, rubbing a hand up and down her arm to warm her up.

"Okay, listen, none of you have seen Banks. That means we've gotta check the rink and see if he's still there. He's got the key; he was supposed to return it to Orion's office before he left the rink, so the doors should still be open. Let's go!"

He led the way across campus to the ice rink, a feeling of apprehension blooming in his chest as they neared it. He grabbed Linda's hand and squeezed it, needing to feel her there. Linda squeezed back comfortingly as they neared the front doors and pushed them open, seeing they were unlocked. As they entered, they noticed Adam's stuff was on the bench; his stick, skates, bag, and winter jacket all lay across the benches.

"Looks like Banksy left his stuff behind." Dean gathered Adam's skates and stick up, putting the stick under his arm and the skates over his shoulder before he grabbed Adam's bag, and Russ tucked Adam's jacket under his arm. They'd return it to Charlie's room later.

"That means he's gotta still be around," Connie said worriedly.

They then saw Riley, Cole, and a bunch of their stupid friends exiting the locker room, a few of them smirking and laughing, and Charlie's apprehension turned to anger as he smashed his teeth together, his blue eyes narrowing; there were times his teammates told him when he was focused, his eyes were like ice – hard and cold and clear like glass, you were able to read him as if looking through a clear pool, and you could see every emotion that crossed his expression. He hoped right now, his eyes were like a glacier, just as icy and sharp enough to pierce as he stalked up to Riley, who was laughing hysterically. Charlie looked over at Julie, who seemed relieved that Scooter wasn't part of that pack – if he were, Charlie could only imagine Julie would kick him in his ball sack just as hard as she kicked those Iceland goons in the shins during the Goodwill Games.

"Charlie," Linda whispered anxiously, but Charlie had already ripped his hand out of hers and was stalking up to Riley, his feet sure and steady underneath him on the ice as he approached the Varsity captain and delivered a lead hook right at his jaw.

"Where the hell is Banks?" he growled.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Daffy Duck," Riley said, rolling his eyes and rubbing his jaw.

"Don't lie to me!" Charlie snapped. "Banks isn't at his dorm. That means he's still here. And you're here. Now, unless you don't want me to sneak you horse shit again, I'm gonna ask again: Where the hell is Banks?"

"Like I'm gonna tell you, you skeevy white trash loser," snapped Riley as Fulton and Dean came around, both Bash Brothers grabbing him by the collar.

"I'm sorry, but what did you say?" growled Fulton, glowering at the Varsity captain.

"You're the one whose trash, cake-eater!" snapped Russ. "So, why don't you tell us where Banksy's at before I use your eyeballs as part of my knucklepuck?"

"We're not scared of you, losers. If you wanna know, check the locker room," sneered one of the Varsity players whom Charlie thought was named Parlato.

Charlie scowled at him. "If he's not in one piece, you're fucking dead! All of you! Or better yet, I'll have my old coach sue your sorry asses. And then you can write a book about it in jail! 'Cause that's where you'll be headed!" He shoved his way past the goons and stalked toward the locker rooms, everyone trailing behind him.

They carefully walked across the ice to the locker rooms, knowing Adam would be in the boys' change rooms. And as he opened the door slowly, he looked around for Adam, but he wasn't visible.

"Banks?" he called. "Banksy? It's past curfew; you gotta get back to the dorms, buddy." He walked further into the locker room, keeping his eyes peeled, but he could've sworn he heard a low, pain-filled moan echo through the room. He reached for Linda's hand again for comfort, and she squeezed gently as he felt his heart pounding fiercely inside his ribcage. That was when they saw Scooter beginning to race out like the devil was after him, his face white, hands shaking.

"Scooter? What did you do?" Julie demanded, her voice filled with rage as she stalked up to him, looking about ready to beat the shit out of him.

"I . . . Julie, it's not what it looks like!" Scooter stammered.

"Like hell it is!" snarled Portman.

"Look, I didn't do anything. I was staying behind to make sure that he was okay! That's it!"

"Who? Adam?" demanded Averman.

"No, the president, stupid! Of course, Banks!" That was when they heard another pain-filled moan echo through the room, and Scooter led the way. "I . . . it's bad. He went crazy! I'd never seen anything like it! It was like he was possessed or something!"

"Who? Riley?" asked Julie.

"He led it. It was his idea! He made me come here; I wanted nothing to do with this!"

"You still chose to come here and follow along with him! Take some responsibility!" screamed Fulton, grabbing Scooter by the collar and shaking him. "If anything else bad happens to Adam, it's your fault, asshole."

Scooter nodded, gulping as he led the way. As they neared the bathroom area, he felt the color draining from his face as he heard Linda letting out a strangled gasp, and as he looked at her, he saw tears flooding her eyes as they took in the scene before them.

Lying in a small puddle of toilet water near the stalls was Adam, shivering. His entire face was already bruising, and his right wrist looked swollen. Charlie winced as he remembered that was the same wrist that got hurt during their match against Iceland almost a year ago. But what scared him more was that Adam's pants and underwear were around his ankles, and he had a dirty sock shoved into his mouth. A hockey stick lay on the ground, spattered with . . . with . . . Adam's . . .

"Oh, God, Adam!" Charlie yelled, racing forward to his best friend, whose face was soaked with tears. He heard the others following closely behind; Connie shrieked loudly, and Julie sounded like she was sobbing. The Bash Brothers were swearing colorfully under their breaths, and for once, Averman and Russ's big mouths were shut.

Charlie landed on his knees beside Adam, turning him over gently, and he nearly got sick. Adam's whole face was bruised, bleeding, and swollen; he had a black eye, his lip was split, and he had a bruise near the side of his head. His hair was soaking wet from the toilet, and he lay there shivering. Gently, Charlie removed the sock from his mouth as suddenly, Fulton came to his senses and ran over, lifting Adam with a surprising gentleness and care (out of the two Bash Brothers, he was the softer and also the most over-protective, having always protected them even before he joined the Ducks). And that was when Adam started sobbing weakly as Scooter came over, looking nervous.

"No . . . No . . . Riley, stop!"

"Banksy, Varsity's not here, buddy. It's us. Charlie and Fulton, we're all here, the Ducks and Linda, it's just us," Charlie whispered, keeping his voice as soothing as possible. He wasn't sure whether to tell Adam that Scooter was there; even though Scooter hadn't participated, he still let it happen, meaning he was just as responsible as the others.

"Spaz-Spazway?" Adam whimpered.

"Shh, don't talk. You're gonna be okay," Fulton whispered, pushing Adam's blond hair out of his eyes as the other boy began sobbing miserably, his whole body shaking. Charlie reached forward, lifting Adam from Fulton's arms and bringing him to his chest, stroking his hair and murmuring in his ear. That was when Fulton and Charlie forced themselves to look lower, and Fulton looked as if he were swallowing back vomit as they noticed Adam's rectum, which was severely bleeding, pure red gushing out of it and pooling on the ground below.

"Shhh, shhh, they're not here. Nobody's gonna hurt you. You're safe now. I've got you." Charlie felt his own eyes stinging as he looked up at his Ducks, swallowing his cries back before his voice shifted into Captain's tone. "Guy, Connie, Cat, Scooter, call for help; get Orion down here now, call him, do whatever you've gotta do. Fulton, Dean, guard the doors. Russ, Goldie, give me your jackets right now. Dwayne, Mendoza, Averman, you wait outside, find somebody, a faculty member, anyone. We've gotta take care of this now!"

They all nodded. Fulton reluctantly parted away to join his fellow Bash Brother in guarding the door. Goldberg and Russ ripped their winter coats off and tossed them to Charlie, who threw them over Adam. Guy, Connie, Scooter, and Jules raced out to call for help; hopefully, Orion would still be awake at this hour, and he would contact Bombay, because they would need all the help they could get. Charlie hoped Gordon was still in town, that Bombay would stay true to his word about always being there for them as he held Adam close to him, rocking his best friend back and forth as Linda came over, crying. She threw her arms around Charlie and rubbed his back gently, shushing him as he, too, started to sob. They soon heard Connie, Guy, and Julie racing back in, tears on their faces as they knelt around them.

"We called for an ambulance and the police," sobbed Julie. Scooter had his arm around her and was holding her closely.

"Why the hell would Riley do this?" Guy asked, his voice stricken. "I mean, I knew he hated us. But I never thought he'd . . ."

"He's been wanting to make an example out of Adam since we beat Varsity," said Goldberg, wiping his eyes.

"This is a hazing," whispered Russ, shaking his head.

"No, Russ, it's sexual assault," Connie choked out as she buried her face in her hands. Julie suddenly looked like she was about to throw up as more tears streamed down her face. Scooter, upon hearing the words "sexual assault," raced toward the toilets and lost his dinner, gagging and retching violently. Charlie couldn't blame either of them. He felt like he would be sick, too, as he held Adam close, rocking him.

"We called Orion," whispered Guy. "He'll probably be here before the ambulance gets here."

"What about his daughter?" asked Charlie brokenly, thinking of the paraplegic little girl in their coach's care who needed him more than ever.

"He's leaving her with a sitter," said Julie, wiping her eyes. "He's also gonna call Coach."

Charlie nodded, sighing as Linda kissed him on the side of the head. It wasn't long before they heard the wailing sirens outside and the pounding of feet, and paramedics rushed in with the stretcher. The female paramedic knelt next to them as the male lay the stretcher down on the ground while a pair of police officers came in.

"My name is Stacey; this is my partner, Kyle. Can you tell us what happened here?"

"His name's Adam Banks," Charlie said, his voice breaking. "We found him like this. We think . . . We think some of the Varsity players assaulted him using one of the hockey sticks." He pointed to the stick that lay in the corner, still covered in blood.

"Adam, Adam, hey, listen, we're gonna get you some help, honey. Can you tell me what hurts?" Stacey asked, her hazel eyes kind as Charlie reluctantly moved to lay Adam flat on the ground. Julie walked over and grabbed Adam's good hand in hers while Charlie kept petting his hair, and Linda leaned a hand on his chest to flatten him out. Charlie was convinced that if Adam didn't have someone familiar touching him, he'd flip out even more. Adam screwed his eyes shut even tighter, squirming against their hold and shivering.

"Can you give us the names of who you think did this?" asked one of the cops. Charlie glanced up and sighed with relief at who it was: Averman's uncle, Oliver.

Thank God. At least they had somebody on their side.

"Um, Rick Riley, Jacob Cole, James Greene, Abraham Parlato . . . and I think Casey Harlowe. All Varsity players. They've had it out for Adam since we beat them and got the school's team name changed to the Mighty Ducks," said Julie, wiping her eyes.

"I was here, but I didn't want to come here tonight," Scooter spoke up guiltily. "It was Riley; he led it, and the others helped him. But I didn't touch Adam. I only stayed behind because I wanted to make sure he was okay."

"Then you know I'm going to have to take you down to the station, son. You'll need to tell us what happened tonight," Detective Averman said.

Scooter nodded. "Yes, sir." He held his hands out as if inviting the police to put him in handcuffs. But Detective Averman shook his head.

"Not necessary. You're coming voluntarily."

"Detective," said Oliver Averman's partner Janice Carlotto, "if this is too personal for you; if you're too close to it . . ."

"I can be professional, Carlotto," Detective Averman said sternly.

The female officer sighed, biting at her lower lip as Stacey and Kyle gently coaxed Adam onto the stretcher, strapping him in place and throwing sheets over him. Adam had just about hit the roof when he felt their hands on him, and he started screaming louder despite his voice being so hoarse.

"Stop it . . . Stop it, please!"

"Adam, calm down, you're gonna be okay, man," Russ was saying as the rest of the team gathered around; Charlie reached over and grabbed Adam's hand tightly as the paramedics walked out.

"Shhh, shhh, Adam, it's okay," Charlie whispered as they exited the rink and stepped out into the cold, Linda trailing close behind him.

"Are you riding along?" asked Stacey to Charlie.

"Yeah." Charlie turned around and kissed Linda quickly.

"We'll meet you there," she said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered back, his voice cracking as he squeezed Adam's hand while climbing into the back just as they heard the slamming of car doors, and Orion ran across the lot to where they were.

"Meet us at the hospital!" Charlie yelled to Orion.

"Which one?" Coach Orion yelled back, his face whiter than Charlie had ever seen it.

"Minneapolis General!" one of the paramedics yelled.

"Okay, who's riding with me?" Orion barked at the remaining Ducks as the doors to the ambulance slammed shut, and Charlie turned his attention back to his friend, whose breathing was near hyperventilating as he screamed, fighting off something that wasn't there. Charlie just ran his fingers through his best friend's hair and held his left hand, trying his best to soothe him, but his whispers fell on deaf ears as the paramedics tried examining Adam, whose face was white as he tried kicking his way free of the restraints pinning him to the stretcher.

Charlie felt his own tears stream down his face as he watched Adam scream. He'd never seen Adam so scared in his life, and he couldn't help sobbing with his friend as Adam's hysterical breathing turned to retching, and before the paramedics could do anything, he vomited all over the front of his shirt, his screams never ending as he freaked out even more.

"Get off, get off, get off!"

"Shhh, Adam, it'll be okay, honey. This'll calm you down." Stacey brandished a needle filled with what was hopefully a sedative; Adam screamed as she cleaned the area with a cotton swab and some alcohol before she injected the medicine into the crook of his arm, and almost instantly, Adam started to calm down. Still, Charlie knew that it was only artificial – if he weren't medicated, Adam wouldn't be calm, and Charlie let out a quiet sob as he continued trying to comfort his friend, rubbing his hair. At the same time, he imagined the different ways he'd kill Rick Riley.