A helmet now capped his brown hair, but he looked every bit as lanky with his pads on. Someone would have to tell that kid to put some meat on those bones before the season started. His ultra-trimmed beard was the only thing that made him look remotely like a hockey player.
He was a wuss, plain and simple. I saw it in the way he spoke to the guys, how he skated, and how he attempted shots at the net. If you want to make it in hockey, you need intensity. No need to apologize.
Not that I cared about that shit at that moment. I cared that he’d exceeded his limits, both with my locker and withme.
He paused at the blue line, probably needing to catch his breath already or have a good long think about what to do. I skated up to him, stopping abruptly enough to spray a flurry of ice shavings all over him.
And do you know what he did? He just stood there andtookit. Seriously. He might as well have thanked me and asked for another. He looked like a complete idiot dusting himself off too. To tell you the truth, that made it all worthwhile. Before you ask, the answer is yeah, I totally did it on purpose and hoped he knew.
“Time’s up,” I said.
He glanced at his wrist as if to check an invisible watch and then shrugged.
“Oh, this again?” I asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this whole I-don’t-have-to-listen-to-Kayden-Preston attitude you’ve been laying on pretty thick since yesterday.”
“I didn’t lay anything on thick, and I don’t have to listen to you.”
“Nice try.”
I wouldn’t let him control the conversation this time. I circled up to center ice and back, stopping abruptly again, shooting another round of snowy ice onto the dope.
Again, he dusted himself off, like he thought he could ignore me. Obviously, he’d never dealt with anyone like me before.
“You’re not even team captain material, you know that?” I asked.
“Says who?”
“Says me. And Iamsort of the authority around here.”
The corners of his mouth lifted a little but offered nothing close to a smile. That look said he wouldn’t give me the satisfaction. I knew his game.
“Tell me one thing that makes you the authority on anything,” Erik said.
“For starters, you play and coach guys like a total cream puff.”
“Cream puff?”
“Yeah, I saw the way you were coaching Anderson a minute ago. That’s not how you do it.”
Now hedidsmile and shook his head in what I call anokay, buddygesture.
“I have my way and you have yours. I know how to talk to players. I’m a communicator.”
I made a yapping hand gesture so he would know that all I heard anytime he spoke wasblah-blah-blah.
“Don’t believe me?” he asked.
“I believe that’s what youdo. I’m just saying it’s not worth shit.”
“What’s your way then?”
“You show some real emotion, be intense, smash the other guyin the mouth. Take no fucking prisoners. No holds barred.That’show I play.”
I nearly drove a fist into my palm to demonstrate. Instead, I puffed my chest out to show my pride.
