Chapter 2 – Protests

When Ted woke the next morning, he felt sick. It wasn't dinner not settling right. It was the fact that he'd lost the job he'd worked so hard to get two years ago, his second chance after retirement from playing pro. He couldn't sleep all night; he tossed and turned despite feeling Bella beside him. He woke several times to go to the bathroom, and nothing appeared to be wrong each time he sat on the toilet. Bella ended up giving him ZzzQuil to help him fall asleep, but even that didn't help much.

When he woke the next day, it was to Bella still asleep beside him. She'd worked all day the other day, and he knew today was her day off, which he was grateful for. He was concerned because, lately, the hospital had been giving her quite a few night shifts, which were a strain on her due to her pregnancy, especially since their babies had a habit of coming earlier than expected.

Sighing, Ted rose from his bed, his stomach twisted into a giant knot as he sat down on the toilet, last night's dinner finally leaving him, and he winced, knowing the diarrhea was due to the stress he'd been under yesterday at the board meeting. The only thing giving him hope was that if Gordon went through that lawsuit, things would change. But he knew that until it took effect, he'd be without a job.

By the time he finished on the toilet, he got undressed and went into the shower, the hot water making him feel marginally better as it hit his shoulders, his face, his chest; his arms as he scrubbed himself down with Old Spice. He also took the time to shave his face clean before changing into a Minneapolis North Stars sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers and heading downstairs, where he smelled coffee, bacon, and eggs, but he wasn't up for eating anything, not after his dinner left him the way it did.

But he wasn't surprised that Bella gave him the cold shoulder when he kissed her good morning and grabbed his coffee mug. She'd been furious that he'd lost his job and even more furious at the board members. But what infuriated her the most was that she needed to be the breadwinner and pay all their bills until he found another job. Not that he could blame her. She worked too long and hard at eight months pregnant; it shouldn't just be all on her. It wasn't fair. When they got married, they'd decided it would be an equal partnership between them, that he would help her in any way that he could, and he couldn't even do that. What would that make him look like a husband and a father if he couldn't even provide for his family?

"Belles," he whispered, "I know you're mad. But I promise that I'll find another job soon. I swear."

"I know that." Bella whipped around and looked at him sharply, her long red hair flying around her face. "I just . . . I can't believe they did that to you after everything you'd done at Eden Hall! How am I supposed to be the only one working with the baby on the way? Huh?"

"I'm gonna talk to Jan," Ted soothed her. "His flight landed from Norway last night, and he's back at the skate shop. I'm sure he'll find me something to hold us over."

"We can't lose this house." Bella's eyes filled suddenly. "We just finished the nursery. And . . ."

"We're not gonna lose the house, honey." Ted cupped her face into his palms, brushing her tears away. "Listen, we will make it work. We did it before when I retired. We can do anything. We're in this together, okay?" He moved his hands from her face to her stomach, feeling his baby son kick against the inner walls of Bella's stomach. "Right, little guy?"

Bella smiled tightly despite everything. "Yeah, I know. Do you want any coffee?"

"I don't know," Ted admitted. "I woke up not feeling too good."

"How about tea instead?"

Ted nodded. "Yeah, that would be great."

Bella nodded, grabbing their stash of herbal tea out of the cupboards and beginning to boil the water as Lucy came rolling out of her bedroom, yawning.

"Hey, honey, good morning," Ted said.

"Daddy?" Lucy asked.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Is it true? That they took your job away?"

Ted sighed. The last thing he'd wanted was to have to explain all this to his daughter. She was six years old, too young to understand the burden her parents had to deal with. She didn't deserve to have anything fall on her shoulders.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Ted told her. "Let Mommy and I figure it out."

"But I wanna help. Should Sadie, Seth, and I do our lemonade stand?"

Ted couldn't help smiling despite the situation. If he admired one thing about his daughter, it was her will never to give up. If it meant she and her little friends starting a lemonade stand out of their front lawn to earn one dollar per every cup they sold to the neighbors, she'd do it. She didn't like seeing her Mommy and Daddy struggle with anything.

"If you think it'll help, you can do it until the temperatures drop, honey. Maybe when it gets colder, you could even do hot cocoa."

Lucy beamed brightly at this and rolled over to the kitchen table so she could start eating her breakfast. By the time the water was boiling, Bella placed an herbal teabag in Ted's mug and poured it over it.

They ate breakfast together in silence until Ted looked at the clock; it was nearing time for him to drop Lucy off at school. He helped her into her jacket and strapped her backpack onto the back of her wheelchair before pushing her out the front door, kissing Bella goodbye and promising they would eat dinner together later after Lucy's hockey practice at the District Five Ice Rink.

After dropping Lucy off at school, he drove toward the skate shop, where he knew Jan would be waiting for him. His heart sank, knowing he'd be going back to the place where Hans had died in his sleep. It never ceased to sicken him that Hans had died alone; he couldn't help thinking that maybe if he'd been there, he could've done something. But he also knew realistically that nothing could've been done.

He pulled up in front of the skate shop and parked his Land Rover before climbing out and going around the shop until he found the back door. He knocked quietly, hearing Jan mumbling to himself.

"That old strudel-head threatened to leave me for Florida and open a surf shop! Bah! Now, how I wish that were true!" As he stepped inside, Ted could see the tears sparkling in the older man's eyes.

"Hi, Jani," he whispered.

Jan turned to him, smiling brokenly. "Teddy," he said, the sound of Ted's old nickname from his Peewee playing days sending a rush of warmth through him as he met the older man in a tight hug, feeling Jan kiss him on the cheek.

"I'm so sorry about Hans," Ted said gently as they pulled apart.

"I'm going to miss that old strudel head. But at least he's with Greta Thordesen now," Jan said wistfully.

"Greta, who?"

"Our teacher from first grade."

Ted smiled despite everything. He really loved Jan.

Jan patted him on the cheek lightly, smiling sadly. "I heard about you and the Ducks."

Ted heaved a forlorn sigh. "News travels that fast?"

"Gordon told me," Jan explained gently. "And you ought to see this, sen." He led Ted toward the television and flicked it on, and Ted could see the TV was switched to the local news station. Images of a protest flashed on the TV, and it appeared to be outside Eden Hall Academy. Ted saw the members of the student council, editors from the Eden Hall Record, and other students positioned outside the main building on campus, holding picket signs and posters. He also saw a table set up, and Linda Chavez, a freshman girls' representative and a writer for the paper, was seated behind it, trying to get other students to sign some sort of petition. Ted could see the signs had decals of Indian chief heads crossed out, duck heads, and slogans like DUCKS FLY TOGETHER, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, KILL THE WARRIORS, REINSTATE THE DUCKS, REHIRE COACH ORION, and LET THE DUCKS FLY.

But there was also a counterprotest with the Varsity Warriors and cheerleaders, who held signs that said things like THE DUCKS ARE DEAD and WHITE TRASH DOESN'T BELONG HERE. Ted could see Rick Riley and a few other Varsity players burning Mighty Ducks of Anaheim jerseys and Ted's Minnesota North Stars jersey while a few of the people on Linda's side ripped up Warriors state championship banners and stomped on the Warriors jerseys and crewnecks sold through the school store. It was worse than a Devils versus Rangers game at the Garden in Manhattan.

Ted sighed. He knew this would be ugly when the board chose not to reinstate the scholarships. He hadn't expected, however, that enough students would protest and want to see the Ducks return to school. But seeing the student protests and the unyielding support for the Ducks made Ted realize that Linda and those who wanted to see the Ducks return next semester wouldn't take it. In fact, he could see from the way their mouths moved that they seemed to be singing a chorus of Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It." But he also saw the police were setting up barricades, trying to keep the peace between both sets of protesters.

He hadn't expected the Ducks to make this big of an impact. But he could see that the people protesting on behalf of his kids wanted change and they wouldn't stop demanding it and would be proud to call themselves "Ducks" should the school's mascot's name change.

"They're still going to need you, Teddy," Jan said, snapping Ted out of his reverie.

"Yeah, I know." Ted swallowed hard. "I'm scared of how they'll be without me there."


"We're not gonna take it! No! We ain't gonna take it! We're not gonna take it anymore!"

It seemed that Gordon's promise that he'd give those board members hell translated to most of the student body wanting to give the Varsity and Tom Riley hell. It seemed nobody could stop singing "We're Not Gonna Take It," "It's My Life," "We Will Rock You," and "Hit Me with Your Best Shot" endlessly. Charlie felt that he was listening to nothing but the '80s and '70s all morning, and he wouldn't lie if he said he didn't care that it disrupted things in the classroom.

Linda didn't take long to organize the student protest outside the school early that morning. It seemed she'd spent all night working on posters and picket signs, and she'd gathered up as many people as possible to be outside the school to protest as the board members and Dean Buckley entered. While it was nice knowing other students were fighting for them, that didn't negate his bitterness toward the board members and the Varsity team.

By lunch, he found himself humming "We're Not Gonna Take It" on his way to the dining hall. And before he could take his seat, Linda ran up to him.

"Charlie," she said, "I wanna do a piece on everything for the paper. Do you have a minute?"

"Yeah, sure." He exited the dining hall and followed her down the hallway toward an empty classroom. Linda pulled a tape recorder and spoke into it after hitting record.

"Date: September twenty-fifth, 1995, time: noon. I am Linda Chavez, head columnist of the Eden Hall Record, and I am joined by Team USA captain and former Junior Varsity Warriors forward Charlie Conway. Charlie, thank you for sitting down with me."

"Thank you," replied.

"Okay, let's start: You and the other members of Team USA's hockey team from the 1993 Junior Goodwill Games were admitted to Eden Hall on a full academic scholarship, correct?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"But the school board has serendipitously decided you no longer deserve those contracts, despite being well within the average to compete. Why do you think that is?"

"It's prejudicial. They admitted us because they wanted to make us look like a joke to everyone here," Charlie said. "They said they're making us leave because we weren't winning games. But the J.V. team has lost games in the past. Part of why we were brought in was because the previous J.V. team's season went so badly, and they needed new blood in to have a better season. I'd say we delivered that when we beat the Panthers this past weekend."

"What about the abrupt termination of your coach, Ted Orion?"

"It's not fair," Charlie answered, feeling his anger spike as he thought of Coach Orion, who would be struggling to find work after all this; while he knew Jan would give Ted a position at the skate shop, it wouldn't be enough to provide a life for Ted and his family, not with Ted and his wife having a new baby coming, but he wasn't about to disclose that to Linda; he wanted to make sure that Coach Orion's personal life was protected because it was nobody's business what was going on.

"He's earned his position as the J.V. coach and shouldn't have been fired just because we were expelled," Charlie continued ardently. "Sure, he threatened to quit if we were let go, but he should've been allowed to have a choice in it all, you know?"

Linda nodded. "What about this promise your former coach is making about suing?"

"He'll go through with it. He knows there's no cause. Tom Riley just wants our scalp. We'll be back if Coach Bombay can prove no justifiable cause in court."

"Okay, Charlie, thank you. I think that's enough." Linda turned off the recording device, but as they left the classroom to head back to the mess hall, they were greeted with pieces of paper attached to the bulletin boards with crude writing that seemed directed toward Linda. Charlie was disgusted at a lewd note that said GO BACK TO THE KITCHEN, CUNT!

He shook his head in disgust as he ripped the flyers down. "Can you believe this? This is ridiculous!"

"Tell me about it," Linda spat as she helped him tear the flyers down before they headed into the lunch room, and as they did so, they caught sight of Rick Riley throwing Mighty Ducks of Anaheim jerseys into the trashcan, lighting a match.

"Hey, put that out!" Linda snapped.

"Don't tell me what to do, you dumb bitch! You're just as disgusting as the rest of those Ducks. You don't belong in our school!"

"It's everyone's school, you dumb jock!"

"You heard her," Charlie snarled. "Now, put that flame out. It's a fire hazard. You set that trash ablaze; you're dead before the fire alarms go off!"

"It's a free country," sneered Riley, dropping the lit match into the trashcan. The trashcan was engulfed in flames, causing the fire alarms to go off just as Charlie predicted they would, and he knew that this was just the beginning.


Gordon Bombay knew what he was about to do was risky. But he needed to take some risks if he had any hope of getting the Ducks back into Eden Hall and getting Ted his job back.

He couldn't sleep all night long. He'd actually felt sick, and that translated to physical sickness; as soon as he'd returned to his mother's house, he'd ended up vomiting in the kitchen sink. He didn't want to imagine what would happen to his Ducks if they left at the end of the semester. Julie, Dwayne, Kenny, Luis, and Russ would no doubt need to go back to their respective states, and that thought saddened him especially – Ken had a strong friendship with Fulton and Russ, Dwayne was already tightly bound with Averman and Goldberg, and Julie was Connie's best friend. To think they'd have to leave their friends behind like that . . . He remembered how Julie and Connie had cried into each other's shoulders after the board meeting concluded, which shocked him – Connie was one tough cookie due to growing up with two older brothers, whose favorite pastime when she was younger was pulling her hair and teasing her constantly; it took a lot to make her cry.

With that thought in mind, Gordon approached the Star Tribune offices. He knew the person he'd be talking to would no doubt raise even more hell. Granted, he saw the student protest on the news early that morning and how it nearly caused a riot on campus. But if he was going expose Tom Riley and the rest of the school board for what they really were, then he needed to go to someplace even higher than the courts. Granted, he would be roping Adam's father into this, but this needed to get out to the public so that parents would know exactly where they were sending their children for the supposed betterment of their education.

Entering the office's front doors, he approached the secretary at the desk. "Excuse me, ma'am, can you let Simon Gibby know that I'm on the way up?"

The secretary, whose nametag read "Jane," looked up. "You're Gordon Bombay, right?"

"Yes, and Simon won't mind seeing me. He's a friend," Gordon told her.

"Okay, then." The lady picked up her phone and punched in the number, saying, "Simon Gibby? You have a visitor. Gordon Bombay." She smiled before hanging up the phone. "He's ready for you."

"Thanks." Gordon grinned at her before walking toward the elevator, choosing the correct floor number to take him to Simon's place of work.

He and Simon Gibby went way back. Simon had been a freshman at Eden Hall Academy when Gordon and Ted were seniors. Simon had been somewhat of an outlier: he'd been a Junior Varsity hockey player, but he'd also been captain of the chess team and a member of the school newspaper . . . at least until he wrote a puff piece that hinted the Varsity Warriors got by due to preferential treatment; he'd been told if he published the article in the paper, he could potentially be expelled. And Simon had already been a target for bullies – Dennis Cole's younger brother Marvin would flush Simon's glasses down the toilet at least twice a day, and he'd been a victim of hazing on several occasions. Ted and Gordon did what they could to look out for him, but once they graduated, there was nothing that they could do.

Luckily, Simon was an overachiever. He'd been one of the youngest people accepted into Eden Hall Academy on full scholarship at just twelve years old because he skipped a couple of grades. And he'd also graduated early and went to college for journalism. Gordon knew the kid's talent would get him somewhere in life, and now, he was writing for the local newspaper, covering everything that happened in the Twin Cities.

It would be poetic for Simon to write about the unfairness surrounding the Ducks' expulsion and Ted's wrongful termination. If he did, the parents would no doubt see the truth.

The elevator rang sharply once it landed on Simon's office's floor. Once the doors opened, he walked through the halls of the Tribune until he found the room where all the people who wrote for the paper sat. Listening as they typed away on the computers, Gordon quickly picked out Simon – he looked the same as Gordon remembered: blond curls and Coke bottle-framed glasses – he was almost blind without them.

Simon sat in his chair, swiveling around expectantly. Upon seeing Gordon, his face softened significantly, and his eyes twinkled behind his thick glasses. "Hey, Gordy."

Gordon smiled back at him. "Hey, Si, it's been a long time."

Simon extended his hand out and shook Gordon's, smiling so widely that he reminded Gordon of the over-enthused twelve-year-old boy who followed Gordon, Ted, and Basil McRea around like a lost puppy. He reminded Gordon of Averman in an odd way. Perhaps it was the curls to their hair and the fact that they both wore glasses – Gordon would be surprised if he found out that Simon wasn't a distant cousin of Averman.

"Look, buddy," Gordon whispered, "I kind of need a big favor. You see, Eden Hall expelled the Ducks yesterday, and . . ."

"Say no more," Simon whispered back. "I'll remind Eden Hall about a little something called 'freedom of the press.'" He winked at Gordon, grinning gently.

"Do it." Gordon winked back. "And I want you there covering me when I slap them with my injunction."

"I will." They shook hands on it. "Wanna talk about it over dinner later?"

"Sure thing, kid. And don't worry. I'm paying. I owe you one for this."

"Anything for an old friend."


I wanted to make a tie-in to the Game Changers show somehow, so I made a reference to Lauren's father, since we meet her mother, Christine, in the show, but we never met her dad, so this is my way of sort of bringing that in.

Edited on 1/10/25