Chapter 9: I Mistakenly left My Phone...

Elliot's POV

"Elliot, sit down before you pass out!" Austin shouted, rushing over from his desk with a glass of tap water. "You're shaking like a leaf!"

I collapsed onto the edge of my narrow mattress, my knees trembling violently. The glass of water shook in my grip, spilling cold drops over my bruised knuckles. Every muscle in my thighs burned with pure fire.

"Twenty extra suicide sprints," I choked out, taking a fast gulp of water. "Nathaniel told Coach Vale my line transitions were sloppy, so Vale made me skate until the ice melted under my blades."

"Nathaniel is doing it on purpose!" Austin said angrily, dropping into his desk chair. "He saw Coach put you on the first line today, so now he's trying to physically exhaust you before tomorrow's game against Eastview!"

"I know," I breathed, leaning forward with my elbows resting on my knees. "He wants me too tired to skate. He wants me to drop back down to the bench."

"Then don't let him get to you!" Austin urged, leaning in close. "Just rest tonight, Elliot. Get some sleep. Tomorrow is the big match."

I reached into my hoodie pocket to check the time, wanting to set my alarm for morning skate.

My hand met empty fabric.

I froze. I jammed my hands into both front pockets, frantically turning them inside out. Nothing. I grabbed my gym bag off the floor and dumped its entire contents onto my bed—my dirty towels, socks, water bottle, tape rolls, and textbooks.

My phone wasn't there.

A sharp, ice-cold panic instantly gripped my throat, cutting off my breath.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Austin asked, jumping up when he saw my face go pale.

"My phone," I gasped, my chest heaving as I tore through my bedding. "Austin, my phone isn't here!"

"Did you drop it in the locker room?" Austin asked, stepping over to search under my desk. "Check your jacket!"

"I didn't bring it to the locker room!" I cried out, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I grabbed Austin by the shoulders. "I left it in the back storage area behind the equipment bays! I sat on top of the locker while I was taping my backup stick before practice started!"

"Okay, okay, don't panic," Austin said, trying to calm me down. "It's locked in the athletic building, right? The janitor will find it tomorrow morning during clean-up."

"You don't understand!" I yelled, my voice cracking with pure terror. "It doesn't have a passcode! The screen lock button broke two weeks ago!"

Austin blinked, his eyes widening. "Wait... it's unlocked?"

"Yes!" I shouted, tears of frustration stinging the corners of my eyes. "Austin, my mom sent me text messages yesterday about our rent eviction notice back home! She told me she couldn't afford her medicine this month because she sent her last hundred dollars to buy my hockey gloves!"

"Elliot..." Austin whispered softly, his expression softening with deep sympathy.

"That's not even the worst part!" I sobbed, gripping my hair tightly in my hands. "There are saved voice notes on that phone from my brother, Liam! Before he went missing two years ago, he recorded three messages for me! I listen to them every single night when I can't sleep! If anyone reads those texts or deletes those recordings, I will lose the only piece of my brother I have left!"

"Oh no," Austin gasped, realizing the true weight of what was at stake.

"If Nathaniel Reed finds that phone," I said, my voice rising in sheer panic, "he will read those texts to the whole team! He will show everyone how poor my family is! He will laugh at my mother's struggle and use my missing brother to mock me until I break!"

"Elliot, listen to me!" Austin pleaded, holding my arms firmly. "It's 10:30 PM! Curfew started thirty minutes ago! Security guards are patrolling the main quadrant right now with searchlights! If they catch you outside the dorms after hours, you get an automatic two-game suspension! You'll lose your starting spot on the first line!"

"I don't care about my starting spot!" I yelled back, pulling away from his grip. "I care about my brother! I care about my mother's dignity! I cannot let those rich elite bastards laugh at my family's pain!"

"It's too dangerous!" Austin shouted as I grabbed my dark black hoodie from the chair. "Elliot, please! Let's ask Coach Vale in the morning!"

"Coach Vale won't care about my voice notes, Austin!" I said, zipping the hoodie up to my chin. "I'm going. Keep the door unlocked for me."

"Elliot, wait!" Austin called out, but I didn't stop.

I slipped out of the dorm room, pulling my hood low over my face as I stepped into the dark, silent corridor.

The night air outside was bitterly cold, freezing the moisture on my eyelashes as I sprinted through the shadows of the tall campus trees. My legs were screaming in pain from the suicide sprints, every muscle pulling tight with exhaustion, but the panic in my heart pushed me forward like a whip.

I dodged behind a row of brick pillars as a security golf cart rolled past, its bright yellow lights sweeping across the empty courtyard. I held my breath, pressing my back flat against the cold stone until the engine noise faded into the distance.

As soon as the cart turned the corner, I sprinted straight toward the rear of the main athletic building.

The massive glass front entrance was locked tight, but I knew the venue inside out from staying late to work on my skates. I hurried around to the back delivery dock, where the ice-resurfacing zamboni machine loaded in supplies.

I grabbed the handle of the small side service door and pulled gently.

With a faint, quiet click, the latch gave way. The door slipped open two inches.

A wave of relief washed over me. I squeezed my body through the narrow gap and quietly pulled the door shut behind me, stepping into the pitch-black interior of the building.

The vast arena was dead silent, smelling faintly of rubber mats, cold sweat, and freshly cut ice. My secondhand sneakers made no noise as I crept down the concrete service corridor toward the back storage bays.

I passed the main locker room doors, keeping my hand flat against the cold wall to guide myself in the darkness. My heart was hammering against my ribs, each second feeling like an eternity.

Just ten more feet, I told myself. Grab the phone from the top locker and get out.

I reached the narrow hallway leading directly to the back equipment bays where the extra sticks, nets, and puck crates were kept.

Suddenly, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Farther down the pitch-black corridor ahead, a soft sliver of light was spilling out from under the half-open door of the central equipment bay.

And then, cutting through the silence of the empty building, came the sound of quiet, intense voices whispering back and forth in the dark.