Coach walks in while Stacey’s taping up my socks. Something he knows I can do in my sleep.
“Is something wrong with Leslie, Alderchuck?”
I love that he doesn’t ask me directly.
“No, sir, Coach. Just helpin’.” He shines a goofy smile at me, like he’s got a big dopey crush and moves hair off my face.
Mercy doesn’t show any signs of jealousy, but his face is plenty contorted into confusion. “Quit goofin’ around. Unless he’s hurt or something, keep to your own socks, Alderchuck.”
I check his face for any signs that he’s irritated by Stacey’s attention on me. There are none. He’s being logical that’s all.
“Don’t worry,” Stacey whispers to me when Coach moves on. “This was only phase one.”
Phase one? What the hell is phase two?
* * *
On the Ice
Stacey’s a consummate professional, or well, as far as that phrase can apply to a hockey player. During the changeover, he puts a little something extra into his smile and sits beside me during the break while we wait for Coach to put our line out again.
“Need some of this?” he asks, holding up one of the bottles of sports drink.
I let him feed me sports drink.
After a full period of this, Mercy’s demeanor changes. He’s tense and it’s nothing to do with the game. This game is smooth as hell. Truth is, he probably knows we’re fucking with him. The sock-taping debacle might have been pouring it on a little thick in hindsight.
When we’re in the locker room between the first and second period, Coach doesn’t even have that many notes for the team, but he has plenty for me.
“Leslie, can I see you for a second?”
The room fills with taunts and low whistles and laughs.
“Sure, Coach.” I walk to the entryway with him, just outside the locker room.
“You can stop it now,” he says when we’re semi-alone. We’re away from the team, but it’s not a private hallway. Anyone could walk by. “You have my attention, Leslie.”
Fuck. The way he says that. Don’t think he can help the smolder. I suppress the desire that rises up and shrug. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Coach.”
“Alderchuck. I know it’s all bullshit anyway.”
“If it’s bullshit then why do you care?”
His jaw grinds and then twitches. He crosses his arms at me, but he’s left without anything to say. “I do not care for it,” he finally admits.
It occurs to me that one young man should not have this much power. I now fully understand supervillains. I could go mad with the bolt of lightning I have in my hand and I’m going to side with the devil on this one. It’s too much fucking fun.
“Not my problem, Coach. Anything else?”
He seethes and his lips sneer and just when I think I’ve gone too far, he turns and walks into the locker room. “Glad we cleared that up,” I say to his back as I follow him in.
Everyone can tell Coach is pissed and that I’m the source of his ire. It’s endless entertainment for them. The best part is, he can’t even retaliate. I love what winning feels like.
During the second, Stacey and I keep it up until Mercy changes our line. “Line change, Leslie. You’re with the Nolan and Boulder line.” He wears a triumphant grin, thinking he’s thwarted me.
But my besties are my besties for a reason.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take over for Stacey,” Dash says. “This is fucking fun.”
