Chapter 15

Adam's POV

I couldn't tell if it was the boredom, but more and more often I caught myself thinking about Eli Brooke. What are actually the chances that I would see him again in this lifetime? And we would have such a cordial relationship. He had forgiven me. Right now, that was all that mattered. Not my father and his usual tantrums. Just Eli.

The first time I noticed Eli, he seemed to be in an argument in the cafeteria. He was not particularly loud or dramatic. He was just standing in front of the cafeteria counter, his eyes planted on his plate like his entire future depended on making the right decision in that minute.

“Does this have mayonnaise?”

The woman behind the counter looked at him with bored eyes. Yes.

“Eggs?”

“Yes.” she said, obviously getting frustrated.

He wrinkled his nose. “Okay, never mind.”

I almost laughed. He was very soft-spoken. Everyone else in the cafeteria seemed to move like they were in a race. People shoved trays across the counters, yelled across tables, stole fries from their friends and complained about whatever the cafeteria was serving. But not Eli. He took his time.

He pointed at something else. “Does that have butter?”

The woman shook her head. “No.”

“Okay, I'll have that.”

He got a bowl of vegetables, some rice, and something that looked too healthy for someone to be having in a high school cafeteria. Then he carried the tray to a table in the corner where he sat alone. I watched him longer than I should. He had thick glasses that practically covered half his face and his ginger hair fell across his forehead. His uniform was conspicuously neat and he set up his iPad, but unlike people who had movies or entertainment going on on their screens, he was reading.

He looked strange, but not in a bad way. Just different from what I was used to.

The bell rang and I didn't move until he did. When I got to history class, I saw him sitting on his own.

“Hi, is this seat taken?”

He looked up at me and glanced around as if checking if I was talking to someone else. And that was how our friendship started. He told me where the science block was because I had already gotten lost twice. He told me which teachers were strict and which ones didn't care if you slept during classes. He told me that the cafeteria pizza was disgusting, but the rice was usually safe. I told him about my old school and he said, “Oh, why did you transfer?”

I shrugged. “My dad.”

What I didn't tell him was that my father thought the hockey training wasn't intense enough. He nodded like he understood. He didn't push me to say anything else.

By the time I returned home in the afternoon, the thought of the new boy I had just started talking to was on my mind. I had barely gotten through the door before my father's voice reached me.

“Practice starts in forty minutes.”

I dropped my bag beside the stairs. “I'm not going.”

There was silence and I heard my own heart thump against my chest. My mom looked up from the kitchen and Dad slowly turned towards me. “What did you say?”

“I said I'm not going.”

His jaw tightened.

“I don't want to play anymore.”

For a second, nobody moved. My dad huffed and then he laughed.

“You don't want to play anymore. You have been playing hockey since you were six. I have spent thousands of dollars on your training. I have sacrificed everything for you.”

“I didn't ask you to.” I said and the room changed. My mom went still and I noticed her hand tightening against the cooking spoon.

Dad's eyes turned cold. “What did you just say?”

“I said I don't want to play.” I looked at him, refusing to back away from his glare.

“You don't get to decide that.”

“I do.”

“No, you don't.”

*I hate hockey.” I said, the words coming out before I could think about it. He stared at me. “I hate waking up every morning knowing that I have to go to practice. I hate that you make me train until my hands bleed. I hate that you decide what I eat, when I sleep, when I train…”

The words were still hanging from my mouth and his hands moved so fast that I barely saw them. A slap cracked through the room and my head snapped to the side.

My mom gasped. “Derrick.”

Dad pointed at me. “You will never speak to me like that again.”

My cheek burned but I did not give him the satisfaction of rubbing on it. I looked at my mom. She was frightened.

“Please.” She said to my father softly. “He's just upset.”

“Stay out of this woman.”

“Derrick.”

He turned towards her. “I said stay out of this.”

“You can't treat your son like that.” She screamed.

He moved towards her and then he shoved her roughly. “You don't get to tell me how I treat my son.”

“He's my son too, you know?” she shouted back at him. “And he's just a child.” She said as she struggled to regain her balance.

He hit her and something inside of me broke.

“Don't touch her.” I yelled.

I lunged towards him and he caught me just before I could reach him. He grabbed the front of my shirt and threw me backwards. My shoulder hit the walls and the picture of me winning my first hockey game slipped to the ground, the glass crashing.

“Adam!” My mom yelled. I got on my feet immediately. I swung and he blocked it.

The next thing I knew, I was on the floor. His fist connected first with my ribs, then my stomach, then my face. I could hear my mom screaming, begging him to stop but he didn't.

When he finally stepped away, I was curled on the floor, struggling to breathe. I spat out of my bloodied mouth.

He looked down at me. “You want to be a man?”

I don't answer. I'm too weak to answer.

“Then act like one.” He picked up my hockey bag and threw it at me. I groaned.

“Get ready.” He walked away and I stared at the bag.

My cheek throbbed, my ribs hurt and somewhere underneath all this pain was something even worse: shame.

I wanted to quit, but I knew that I wouldn't. So I picked myself up, went to the bathroom and started getting ready for practice.

The next morning, I was looking for Eli. I saw him before he saw me. He was sitting alone across our history classroom, reading.

I walked over. “Hey.”

He looked up and his face brightened. “Hi.”

His expression changed. “What happened to your face?”

I blinked. “Neighborhood fight. It's nothing serious.”

“You shouldn't be fighting,” he said softly as he touched my arm.

“Yeah, I know.”

I got into the hockey team at the new school and then the guys noticed my friendship with Eli.

“Yo, Payne.” Ryan called while we were in the locker room. “You're hanging out with that Eli kid?”

“Yeah.” I said and he laughed.

“Why?”

I shrugged, “Because he is my friend.”

Ryan looked at the others and they all burst out laughing. “Your friend?”

I couldn't understand why it suddenly seemed embarrassing.

“He's weird.” Another guy said.

“Have you seen his glasses?”

“He eats like a grandma.”

They laughed again and I forced a smile.

Ryan looked at me. “You're trying to make varsity, right?”

I nodded.

“Then you need to start acting like it.”

“What does that mean?” I asked carefully.

“What that means is that you can't hang around losers in school.” Another person said and my stomach twisted. The thought of them calling Eli a loser didn't sit right with me.

Ryan patted my shoulder. “Come on, we're going to the rink.”

I hesitated but I followed them. That was the day it all started and I would never say that I started hating Eli because I never did.

I liked him, but that was the day I learned that liking him was something that I was supposed to be ashamed of.

My first game came two weeks later and my father was in the stands. Of course he was. I could feel his eyes on me every second. With every mistake, every missed pass, every time I hesitated, every score, every goal I missed there was a scowl on his face. When I eventually scored a goal, he didn't cheer. He just nodded like I had done something that he had been expecting me to do.

Once I was done with the game, I found Eli waiting near the exit.

“You were good.” He said with a huge smile on his face and I smiled back.

“Really?”

“Yes.” He nodded as he pushed his glasses up to his nose. “You were really good.”

His praises meant more to me than I could understand. I sat beside him and we talked about the game. He told me I almost fell during the second period.

“No, I did not.”

“You did lose your balance.” He said softly.

“I didn't.” I said while laughing and he laughed too.

For those few minutes, everything was easy until I heard that familiar gruff voice behind me. “Adam.”

I froze and turned around and saw my father standing. His eyes moved from me to Eli. “We need to go.”

*Dad.”

“Now.” He said without letting me say another word.

I looked at Eli. “See you tomorrow?”

He smiled. “Yes, tomorrow.”

He got on his feet and waved. “Hello, Mr. Payne.”

But my father didn't say a word. He simply turned around and walked away.

“Who is that?” He asked the second he closed the door.

“His name is Eli. He is my friend.”

I noticed his hand tightened around the steering. “That boy isn't going to help you become an elite hockey player.”

I frowned.

“You heard me.”

“He's just my friend.” I argued.

“You need to understand something, Adam. Hockey is not just about playing on the ice. It's about discipline, focus, reputation, and the people you surround yourself with matter.”

I sighed.

“He's not like you.”

I laughed bitterly. “What's that even supposed to mean?”

“It means you have potential.”

“Who says he doesn't?” I spat back.

“Don't be stupid.” Dad said. The words hit like a slap. “You are better than that boy.”

I stared out of the window, hoping the conversation would end.

“You need to stop talking to him.”

I didn't reply.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

My jaw tightened. “I understand.”

“You want to make it to the top?” He asked and I nodded. “Then you need to start acting like someone who belongs there.”

I looked down at my hands, and I thought about Eli and his glasses and his careful food choices, the way he laughed, and the way he looked at me.

Then I thought about my dad, about the rink, the scouts, the team members, and the future he had planned for me.

“Fine.” I said through gritted teeth and he nodded and tapped my shoulder.

“That's my good boy.”

That should have been the end of it, but it wasn't, because next morning Eli was waiting for me with his bicycle at our usual spot and we rode to school together. And that morning I forgot everything my dad had said until Ryan called my name from across the parking lot.

When I turned around, he looked at me with disappointment in his eyes. He shook his head. “Come on, man. You don't want people thinking you're like him.”

I looked at Eli and said. “I'll see you after school.”

And for the first time in a while, we didn't walk into the hallway together. And I didn't turn around to see how my decision had affected him.