Chapter 9: Great Expectations

"I still can't believe he's alive."

"Thank God Orion knew what he was doing. I owe that man everything now. And the team's tutor, too; she came in just in time. I'm just glad there were people there that knew what they were doing."

He groaned softly; his throat felt dry, like cotton had been stuffed inside it, and there was a dull, burning sensation as he tried blinking his eyes open, only to be greeted with blinding white lights. Gasping, he just as quickly shut them.

"Billy? Sweetheart? It's me, Mom, can you hear me?"

"Come on, bud. Please, open those eyes for me."

He tried again, this time his vision clearing as the blurry outlines of his mom and dad came into view.

"Mama?" he moaned, feeling her fingers in his hair. He hadn't called Julie "Mama" or Adam "Daddy" since he was eight. But lying there in a hard, uneven hospital bed after having gotten his throat sliced open by that enforcer's ice skates, his throat burning and his head foggy with medicine-induced exhaustion, he felt that sensation of being eight years old again, vulnerable and small and yearning for the comfort only his parents could provide.

"Shh, we're right here," Adam whispered, moving until he was seated in the bed right next to him, winding an arm around his shoulders comfortingly. "It's okay now. Orion saved you, you're okay."

Billy nodded, his vision clearing as he coughed slightly against the sandiness in his throat. "I want water."

"Here. Just take tiny sips, okay? Your throat is stitched up and we can't risk anything," said Julie, tilting a cup of water toward his mouth. He sipped it slowly, choking against the sensation of the cooling liquid going down his sore throat. But it also brought him tremendous relief as he drank.

"I think that's enough for now." Julie pulled the cup away and set it aside before she grasped her son's hand gently. And as Billy's vision finally cleared even more, he saw Gordon Bombay standing in the doorway, an easy smile on his face.

"Gordon, what are you doing here?" Billy rasped, managing a smile.

"Well, Teddi and Logan informed me that you had this strange desire to reenact Clint Malarchuk's stunt from 1989, so I decided to come over and check it out for myself," Gordon said dryly. However, the smile on his face remained warm and gentle as he came over, and Julie allowed him to take her spot on the bed as he leaned over, pulling the Ducks' goalie into a gentle hug.

Billy hugged him back, clutching the back of his shirt. "It's so good to see you."

"Good to see you, too," Gordon told him. "Though I wish it were under different circumstances."

"So do I." Billy heard his voice break as tears pressed at the backs of his eyelids, and he clung to Bombay a little harder as he felt the older man rubbing his back. He didn't know how long they sat like that for, but Gordon was the first to pull away, leaning Billy back against his pillows as he stroked his hair off his forehead.

Bombay whispered, "Teddi and Logan also told me Coach Cole has violated one of the NCAA legislations."

Billy nodded, glancing down as his tears rolled down his face. He hated it whenever his parents saw him crying because, like his dad, he couldn't stand pity. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice breaking as he closed his eyes in shame, partially because he believed that his mom and dad would be disappointed that he wouldn't be playing for a bit. For once, they'd be disappointed in him for something. But now, he was dreading them acknowledging that imperfection.

But Bombay wasn't stupid, because he leaned a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Alex told me he's been putting you guys down a lot. Has he said or done anything to you?"

Billy felt his cheeks turning red as he glanced down even further, his neck craning so far down it was like a turtle trying to retreat into its shell. He wanted so badly to hide the tears that he knew were flowing down his hot face, his throat closing up. Nonetheless, he nodded vigorously. But he didn't want to say what it was. He didn't think he could take needing to tell his mom and dad.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that, okay? Because your dad, Alex, and I are taking this to the NCAA. We're gonna present our case and hopefully, we can get him barred or suspended from coaching. And if that doesn't work, we'll sue him. Because what he's doing is unacceptable."

Billy just nodded again, more tears rolling down his face as he continued looking down, feeling Bombay rubbing his shoulder gently. He barely acknowledged that Bombay had left the room, or that his dad was now sitting in front of him on the bed, taking his hands into his.

"Billy, look at me, bud. Please."

Billy shook his head vigorously, not wanting to see his dad's disappointment. The other night, he joked about asking if he could play in the third period even though his jugular had been sliced open. But partially, he hadn't been joking. He'd still wanted to play badly. He wanted to prove himself and show that he wasn't weak.

He felt two fingers underneath his chin, gently pushing his head up. But he kept his eyes closed, still not wanting to look at his dad.

"Look at me," Adam repeated gently.

Billy reluctantly opened his eyes. Only his dad's face didn't reflect any disappointment. Only worry. He wasn't disappointed. He was concerned.

"You're not mad?" he sobbed.

Adam looked at him incredulously. "Why would I be mad? Because you got hurt? Billy, I was scared when that happened. I thought I was gonna lose you. And yes, I am mad, but I'm mad at Coach Cole, not you."

Billy just let out another sob, trying to wipe his eyes, but it was no use as more pent-up tears that he'd kept inside since the day he got to Anaheim flowed down his face. His mom handed him a box of tissues, which he took and used to wipe his eyes and blow his nose.

"Billy, what has Cole been saying to you?" Adam asked, his voice gentle.

Billy sniffled. "That he . . . he expects more from the son of Adam Banks and Julie the Cat, that I'm failing you and Mom . . . During our second practice, he said I suck, that I'm spineless, careless . . ." After that, his throat closed up far too much for him to speak normally, and he started to sob, "I . . . all I've done, since I got here, I've been trying so hard for you and Mom. But I'm sick of this, Dad. I'm sick of us being compared all the time and people talking about how they expect me to be so great because of who my parents are! I just wanna be my own person, why isn't that enough? Huh?"

His dad and mom looked positively stunned by this. Their blue eyes widened with surprise at their son's revelation. Adam was the first to snap out of it, saying, "Mom and I don't expect you to be just like us. Cole is wrong. He hasn't got any right to say that to you."

"And you're benched until you're fully recovered," Julie whispered gently.

"But I gotta play!" Billy insisted. "All the scouts are here watching me! This is my shot!"

"Bud, you're young. You're gonna have plenty of shots, believe me," Adam whispered.

"But I just want you guys to be proud of me!"

"We say we're proud all the time," Julie said gently.

"Well, yeah, but . . ." Billy looked down, more tears rolling down his face. Of course, he knew his parents were proud of him. That wasn't it. It was because he wanted them to see him play among the best of the best and make it out on top. He wanted them to see that he could hold his own among the greats.

Adam sighed. "Jules, honey, can you go check on Violette? I think Charlie said he was taking her to the cafeteria to get some breakfast."

"Okay." Julie departed with a loving kiss to the top of Billy's head, and once they were alone, Billy felt Adam squeezing his hands gently.

"Hey." Billy looked up at his dad, still not seeing the shame and disappointment he expected. "Look, I'm gonna tell you a story, okay? I was around your age when I got invited to play in the Jr. Goodwill Games. Gunnar Stahl broke his stick over my wrist, and it let to me getting hurt. I was determined to play with a sore wrist until Bombay stopped me and told me he was benching me. I told him a lot of the same things you told me, that the scouts were watching me, that my dad was counting on me. And you know what he said to me? He told me when he was growing up, his dad worked all the time, so when he made it to a game, Bombay wanted to score a hundred goals for his old man. And I felt the same way about my dad; I'd spend the entire game a nervous wreck, my stomach in knots."

"That's how I feel," Billy confessed. "I wanna block every shot like Mom did – not because I wanna be her. Maybe when I was younger, I used to say I wanted to be just like you and her, but not like that. I mean, like, I want to do better than my personal best."

"And you shouldn't settle for less; I'd never suggest you should settle. But here's the thing," Adam said. "Bombay told me his dad told him something along the lines of what I'm about to tell you: The happiest times of my life are watching you and Violette skate around at the Duck Pond when it freezes over during winter. I don't need you to block every single shot in the goalpost for me and Mom. We're proud of you because you are our son, and no matter what, you do your very best."

Despite the tears rolling down his face, Billy managed a genuine smile. The whole time he'd been in California, that was exactly what he'd needed.

"Thanks, Dad."

"How long have you been feeling this way?"

"Huh?"

"You mentioned Coach Cole constantly belittling you. But it cannot just be because of that."

Billy sighed. His dad knew him so well; he knew that it went far deeper than a bullying head coach making derogatory comments. "It's kinda hard not to, you know? My whole life I heard people talking about how amazing you and Mom were. Everyone on my hockey team would always stare at you guys whenever you came to my games, and it's like they never noticed me; they just noticed who my parents were, you know? Especially Evan and Nick, I mean, God, do you even know how many times growing up I had them ask me if I could ask you to sign their hockey sticks? You and Mom are like celebrities around Minneapolis; everywhere we go, everyone's always looking at you guys, and it's like Violette and I are an afterthought."

"How come you never told me this?" Adam asked.

"Because I never wanted to hurt you and Mom," Billy admitted. "It just sucks when people compare me to you guys, because I know I'll never measure up to what your reputations were."

"And I'd never expect you to be me," Adam reassured him gently. "I want you to be your own person and to think for yourself and play because you enjoy hockey. If you never enjoyed it or if you felt pressured, I wouldn't have put you in it to begin with. You know how I told you Grandpa one time tried cutting a deal with the Peewee hockey league to keep me on the Hawks, right?"

"Yeah."

"He wanted me to measure up to what your uncle, Luke, was. He was obsessed with me following in your uncle's footsteps and playing for the team that won. But it wasn't until I switched back to J.V. in my freshman year of high school and saw he was disappointed I was no longer playing on Varsity that I told him that his expectations for me were too high and that by him putting all that pressure on me, I felt nothing I ever did could make him proud. And things were hard between us after a while. And I told you that your grandpa and I are starting to speak again; we're starting to fix things and he's changed because he wants to have a relationship with you. So, I'm glad you told me how you feel. Because when I was your age, I never expressed how I felt and I allowed myself to get pulled into whatever direction someone wanted me to go. I want better than that for you."

Billy nodded, his smile widening despite the tears flooding his eyes. It was just what he needed to hear from his dad. Silently, he felt his dad pulling him in for a hug, and Billy willingly returned his dad's embrace, burying his face into the crook of Adam's neck while his dad cupped the back of his head in his hand, rubbing his hair and kissing him on the temple.

"I love you," Adam whispered.

"I love you, too," Billy choked out.

After having breakfast at the hospital with Julie and Violette, Charlie Conway knew that there was a lot more damage that needed to be repaired. He knew Gordon, Alex, and Adam would be arranging a hearing with the NCAA on Tuesday to get Cole suspended or, preferably, fired from coaching. But until then, the kids' mental health was the primary concern for him. In recent weeks, the kids have seemed to have forgotten how fun and easy hockey could be when you weren't playing your heart out. And he decided that they needed a reminder of that.

But he knew the only way he'd be able to make this work would be if he and Isla Vaughn worked out some kind of deal.

He knew she was a reasonable person; she was warm and caring and seemed to prioritize the well-being of the kids before anything. She almost reminded him of Michelle McKay, his tutor from the Junior Goodwill Games, who'd been more than a tutor for the Ducks, and he was glad that there was somebody there who cared about the kids and their best interests. When Gordon had become known by the team as "Captain Blood" and obsessed with winning and going for bigger and better things, Ms. McKay had been the one who was always fighting for them and making sure that they were okay; she'd been the one to cancel their practice when she noticed they were falling asleep in class. It was because of Ms. McKay as well as Gordon that he'd been inspired to become a teacher, because they were proof that the world needed more great teachers to train the next generation to make a difference in the world. And Charlie admired that Isla cared as much as she did. After all, she'd been the one giving him full reports on the kids' performance in the classroom every day, and she'd voiced her concerns for Koob, Nick, Billy, and Gordy, who'd been the most affected by Cole's coaching.

Today, the scrimmages for the night got canceled, by the insistence of the other coaches and tutors, who complained to Coach Cole that a lot of the kids were still traumatized by what they saw the other night on the ice; several of the kids on the opposing teams had panic attacks and others had gotten violently ill, especially the kids on the Iceland team, who'd fainted at the sight of so much blood. Nobody ever could've expected such a horrible injury could happen to any kid. And this was a really bad look for Cole; even Wolfe Stansson had said that if he allowed scrimmages to continue tonight, kids would complain to parents, and parents would take their complaints to someplace even higher than the police, and it could lead to Cole losing a lot more than his coaching career if he forced the children to play scrimmages underneath this kind of emotional distress.

Charlie was shocked that Cole complied. But he presumed it was out of severe guilt more than anything, not that he felt guilty for how he treated the kids, but more so because his ridiculous expectations led to this disaster in the first place.

Sighing, he wandered down the hallway of the apartment complex the teams and tutors were living in for the summer until he reached Isla's apartment, knocking on the door and hoping he wasn't disturbing her. Luckily, she opened the door, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose, signifying she'd been grading papers and quizzes.

"Hey," he said, "can I come in? I need to talk to you about something important."

Isla nodded. "I have a feeling I know what it is." She beckoned him inside. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"I'd love one," Charlie said, having not had any coffee at the hospital. He wouldn't trust any coffee that came from the hospital.

Isla smiled, walked over to the kitchen area, and poured him a mug of hot coffee, handing it to him. "Do you take anything in it?"

"No, thanks." Charlie sipped the bitter hot coffee, sighing with relief. As he glanced at the papers, he winced as he noticed Nick and Koob's grades on the quizzes. "That good, huh?"

"They're at 'C' averages, which isn't anywhere near where they're supposed to be. But I have a feeling I know why," Isla said sympathetically. "I see them trying so hard. It's not them. It's Cole. He's the real problem here."

"I know. I think everyone saw that when they saw what happened to Billy yesterday," Charlie said, "and thank you for what you did. I was relieved that you and Ted knew what you were doing."

"I was a pediatric nurse before I became a teacher," explained Isla, her green eyes soft and thoughtful. "I just knew what needed to be done."

"Julie said that Billy woke up and he's talking. He's gonna be okay. But I don't know about Koobler. He's still not talking to anyone; I tried visiting him this morning to see if I could convince him to have breakfast, but I don't think I succeeded. I'm really worried about him; he's making himself sick."

"I've noticed he's getting worse. He fell asleep in class on Thursday, and his grades are steadily declining. It can't go on like this, Charlie. How does Cole expect them to be on their game if all he does is verbally belittle them?"

"That's why Alex, Adam Banks, and Bombay are taking this to the NCAA," Charlie declared. "They're going to see if they can convince the NCAA to suspend or fire Cole. And if they don't do anything about it, they're going to take it to an even higher place and sue him."

"Would you like for me to write a letter on your behalf?" Isla offered.

Charlie nodded, hardly able to find words. While he knew Isla cared about the kids, he didn't think she'd turn against her own boss for them. It was enough to render him speechless, but looking at Isla, he knew she was completely serious. It meant more than he could express. So he didn't even think twice as he leaned forward and pressed a thankful kiss against Isla's cheek, by means of silently expressing to her that he was thankful she was there and that the kids had somebody there looking out for them.

Luckily, Isla seemed to understand, because she smiled back at him kindly, her emerald eyes seeming to grow softer, as soft as her honey hair. "You're welcome," she said.

"I'd appreciate it if you canceled their tutoring and practice for tomorrow," he said. "They deserve some time for something fun."

Jaiden Koobler always knew he was the heaviest one in the room. It was kind of hard not to. And years of isolation, hiding in his mom and aunt's basement after the sudden death of his dad from stage-four stomach cancer when he was four years old (which had forced him and his mom to move in with his mom's sister in Minneapolis), didn't help. For years, he was content with hiding, playing video games, eating junk food, and not socializing with anyone if it weren't behind a computer screen.

And then Evan and Nick pushed for him to join the Don't Bothers.

Suddenly, isolation wasn't an option anymore. They asked him to be a goalie until Coach decided Billy needed to be in the goalpost full-time, and Koob would be a backup goalie/defenseman. Since then, he'd grown content in his role as a defenseman; Coach Conway and Alex never needed him to play goalie, and he honestly much preferred throwing his massive size around and knocking other players over. It made him feel useful, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

But then, they got invited to EPIC's summer camp.

Granted, he knew he'd have to work hard. But he never thought they'd have to work this hard to prove themselves. Maybe part of him had gone into this a little too overconfident; they beat Coach Riley, Coach Cole, and Coach Tingman's Ducks and won the title of the District Five Ducks fair and square. There was no reason they couldn't do this.

That wasn't until he met Coach Cole.

Just the thought of that man gave him nightmares at night. Every day, he heard the horrible things Cole would say about him or to him:

"You're too fat and lazy to play defense!"

"Try losing a few pounds, kid."

"I knew he was gonna screw up."

It made Koob want to prove that he was more than just the awkward fat kid. He wanted to prove that he was a great defenseman.

But he knew the first thing that would need to happen would be losing weight.

Exercise had always been something he dreaded. For years, he'd look for excuses to get out of PE. It wasn't until he met Bombay and Orion that somebody managed to make it fun for him; Orion having him chase after him to make him move faster was some of the most fun he'd ever had.

But Coach Cole's drills weren't fun. At all. Mostly because they were accompanied by verbal beatdowns and harassment about his weight. So, Koob took that as the message that he should eat less.

He cut breakfast in half. He cut lunch down to just salads. And he cut dinner down to a third. But what came with that were the constant hunger cramps in his stomach as it yearned for more food, the intense drowsiness that would hit him at random periods throughout the day, and he was nowhere near where he wanted to be, even though he weighed himself every morning. But he still saw that same disgusting whale Coach Cole saw him as, and it made him want to lose even more weight. If he gained even one pound, he'd go into a panic.

And he knew the Ducks were seeing it. Heck, Ms. Vaughn was seeing it. But he turned down all her offers to give him snacks during class. Snacking on junk food was what led to this point. And he didn't want to go back to that again.

He stood there on the scale in his bedroom, which he shared with Nick, since he and Nick were the odd number that had to share with Jace. He looked down at the number. He was still a little over what he'd consider desirable. And whenever he lifted his shirt, all he saw was flab, no muscle. Tears flooded his eyes as he felt the shame settle in. He just had to faint on the ice Saturday night. Yesterday morning, the doctors at the hospital had given him food. But he ate two bites of it and threw the rest of it in the toilet, flushing it down.

But he was also hungry all the time. And he was so tired of it.

As he continued staring at himself in the mirror, he saw the door to his and Nick's room open slowly, and Bombay entered, holding what looked like a brown paper bag that could only contain one thing, the very thing that had become his worst enemy in the past week since he'd gotten here: food.

The very thought caused him to close his eyes as the tears rolled down his face. He expected Bombay to express disgust or disappointment; that was all he ever heard from Coach Cole since he got here. He wasn't expecting any compassion. He didn't deserve it – at least, that was what he told himself.

He didn't open his eyes even as he felt Bombay leaning a hand on his shoulder.

"Koob, come on," Bombay was saying. "Come sit with me, all right?"

He sighed, hating the way it shook as Bombay motioned for him with a hand on his shoulder to come out to the living room. Together, they sat down, and Koob opened his eyes to see Gordon emptying the contents of the bag in front of him: two bottles of orange juice and two bagels wrapped in tinfoil.

"I got us breakfast," Bombay said, unwrapping the first tinfoil wrapping to reveal a multigrain bagel with egg whites, cheese, turkey bacon, and avocado; he passed it over to him before unwrapping his cinnamon raisin with cream cheese.

Koob looked at the bagel in apprehension, his stomach tightening just thinking about it. But he also couldn't deny he was starving, either. He was worried if he ate any of it, he'd puke. Logically, he knew it was something that was supposed to be healthy for him; egg whites and turkey bacon were leaner protein options, still, he couldn't help thinking about the calorie count that came along with it, given that bagels were a lot of bread.

"I can't," he whispered.

"Try and eat at least half of it," Bombay compromised. "You don't have to finish the whole thing."

"But . . ."

"But what?"

Koob felt his face flaring hotly as more tears filled his eyes. He just shook his head, not trusting himself.

Bombay sighed. "Listen, I know what Coach Cole has been saying to you and what he's been making you do. Alex filled me in already. And Teddi told me the other night that she's worried you haven't been eating."

"I just hate being known as the fat one," Koob admitted, his voice breaking as he looked down in shame. "That's all I've ever been."

"For how long?" Bombay's voice was sympathetic; not an ounce of judgment was detectable.

"Since forever." Koob felt his face twisting up as he began sobbing. "I always ate when I was stressed; it started when I was four, that was the worst year of my life."

"Why?"

"My dad died that year." Koob's voice broke; for years, he never told anyone about his dad's death because the pain was just too much. It always sucked every Father's Day knowing his dad wasn't around, and he never had a good male role model whom he could look up to. For years, it had just been himself, his mom, and his aunt. Until Coach Conway, Gordon, and Orion, he never had a father. Now, thanks to his involvement with the Ducks, he had three, which was more than he'd had all his life.

"I'm so sorry."

"That was when Mom and I moved from Lima to Minneapolis; we had to move in with Mom's sister. I . . . I remember one time, we were in music class and the teacher was having us sing 'We Are the World.' Somebody said I was so huge I could sing it all by myself." His face flared hotly again as he tried wiping the tears off his face, but more just kept falling. "So, it was just easier for me to hide, 'cause it was clear no one wanted me. Evan and Nick were the first real friends that ever bothered with me. And then after Evan left the team, I . . . I just . . . I felt so alone and . . ."

He wasn't quite sure why he was divulging all of this to Bombay. Surely, the man had other priorities that were more important than listening to his stupid problems. This was supposed to be his honeymoon. Why the hell was he taking time out of his honeymoon to sit and talk with him about his eating habits and his self-esteem issues? But Bombay didn't seem to mind at all. He never once lost any patience and only seemed to grow more sympathetic. And it helped that he was a good listener, never interrupting to insert himself; he waited until Koob finished spilling his guts out. He felt Bombay shifting next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and Koob found his head leaning against Bombay's chest as his tears continued soaking his face.

"Look, I may not have ever experienced that. But I also know how you feel," Gordon whispered, his voice kind and thoughtful. "I got plenty of crap from guys in my gym class; they always made fun of me for my height, and I got pushed around for being the shortest one, especially when we had to pick teams for basketball. And when I got older, and I became a lawyer, I ruled in the courtroom, but on the inside, I was a mess. And I started drinking. It wasn't until I was thirty that something changed."

"What changed?"

"I was caught with a DUI and got arrested, and sentenced to community service; Coach Conway and the Ducks were there that first day," Gordon said, and Koob heard the fond smile in the older man's tone as he recounted how he met Coach Conway. "I was also told I needed to complete AA. I got clean for a while. But then, I lost my coaching job at St. Paul State, and I went right back to drinking again. But it was Coach Conway who pushed me to get clean when he told me he was thinking about starting a family; he told me that if I was going to be around his family, he needed me to be my best. And he knew that couldn't happen if I didn't go to AA again and surround myself with people who wanted to see me get better."

Koob opened his eyes, turning to look at Bombay, who looked at him with nothing but compassion.

"This isn't the way to go about it, Koob. What you're doing is not okay," Gordon said firmly. "You should only want to lose weight because you want to do better for yourself and you want to be healthy. But starving yourself; obsessing over it, is not healthy. And I'm sure if your dad were here, he wouldn't want you doing this to yourself, either. He'd want to see you be your best. And you can't be your best if you're constantly hungry all the time and punishing yourself. You're not supposed to have to suffer like this."

Koob just stared back at Bombay, unable to think of much to say. Finally, he just conceded with a nod as the realization settled in. He turned his gaze back to the food in front of him.

"Just eat, okay?" Gordon asked. "Coach Conway and Alex have something planned out for you guys today. They talked with your tutor; she canceled your class and practice for today."

At that, Koob looked up at Bombay in surprise. "Can she even do that?"

"She's been worried about all of you," Gordon explained. "But it's you she's been the most concerned about. So, Coach Conway and Alex are taking you and the Ducks somewhere special today. And Casey and I will be coming along with you guys."

"Really? Where?"

"I can't tell you. It's a little surprise. So, eat up."