The Ice King’s Fake Fixer

FEYA

“I don’t actually think ‘dumb’ is the right word for him, Coach Wallace. It’s scientifically imprecise.”

I didn’t look at Jaxson Rivers when I said it, mostly because looking at people is a sensory nightmare, but also because I was busy counting the number of acoustic foam tiles on the office ceiling. There were forty-two. Three were peeling at the corners. It was deeply distressing.

“Feya,” Coach Wallace sighed. He sounded like a man who had spent the last twenty years inhaling locker room steam and regret. “Not the time, please.”

“I’m just saying,” I continued, my voice flat and even. I kept my hands tucked into the oversized sleeves of my charcoal sweater so I wouldn’t pick at my cuticles. “Dumb implies a lack of intellectual capacity. Mr. Rivers has capacity; he just chooses to prioritize a frozen disc of vulcanized rubber over basic literacy.”

“Excuse me?” The voice came from the chair to my left. It was deep, slightly raspy, and currently vibrating with enough irritation to make my skin itch.

Jaxson Rivers.

The Captain of the St. Jude Saints. Such a ridiculous name, by the way. The boy who was currently taking up approximately sixty percent of the oxygen in this room just by existing.

I finally shifted my gaze, not to his eyes, which were a distracting, icy shade of blue, but to his chin. He had a very symmetrical chin.

“Yes. You spend ten hours a week hitting people on ice. If you spent ten percent of that time learning how to balance a quadratic equation, we wouldn't be here.”

“We’re here,” Jaxson snapped, leaning forward, “because you were caught hacking the school’s administrative server to erase a freshman’s truancy record. You’re a criminal, girl. Don't act like you're sitting on a moral high ground made of…of textbooks.”

How eloquent.

I blinked. “I wasn't hacking for fun. I was being paid. It’s a business model. And I didn't erase the record; I just rerouted the notification email to a dead server that...”

“It was illegal, Feya!” Coach Wallace slammed a hand on his desk. I flinched at the sudden noise, my shoulders hitting my ears.

He noticed and lowered his voice, but the edge was still there. “Do you know what would’ve happened if it was the Dean that caught you and not me? You’d have been expelled. Immediately. No questions asked. Your father’s reputation is already... well, you know. This would have been the end.”

I went very still. The mention of my father felt like a cold draft in the room. My father’s ‘reputation’ was the reason I had a negative balance in my bank account and a permanent knot in my stomach.

“I am aware,” I said, my voice smaller but still direct. “So, why am I still wearing my uniform, sir?”

Coach Wallace pointed a thick finger at Jaxson, who was currently staring at a trophies on the wall with an expression of pure loathing.

“Because the Saints are in the playoffs, and my star Center is currently ineligible. He’s failing Calculus and Physics. He’s also been quite…distracted and unstable lately, which I assume is because of the academic pressure. If he doesn’t pass his midterms next week, he’s off the ice. And if he’s off the ice, St.Jude loses the championship.”

“And you want me to... fix him?” I asked.

“I’m not a broken sink,” Jaxson muttered.

“Your GPA is currently a 1.4,” I told his chin. “In the world of academic plumbing, you are a burst pipe.”

Jaxson’s jaw tightened. I watched a muscle leap in his cheek.

He was the most popular person at St. Jude Academy, and I was the girl who ate lunch in the darkroom so I wouldn't have to hear people chew. I had only ever heard of him, but had never come within this close distance of him. We shouldn't even be in the same zip code of a conversation right now.

“Feya, you tutor him, and he passes,” Wallace said, leaning back. “In exchange, I ‘lose’ the flash drive with the screen-grabs of your little server excursion. You keep your scholarship. He keeps his skates. Everyone wins.”

“I don't win,” Jaxson said, finally looking at me. I accidentally caught his eyes. He wasn't looking at me; he was squinting, and I quickly averted my eyes. “I have to spend my afternoons with a girl who speaks like a Wikipedia entry.’”

“And I have to spend my afternoons explaining basic physics to a person who thinks gravity is just something that happens to other people,” I countered. “This is a lose-lose situation.”

“Great,” Coach Wallace said, ignoring the blatant animosity. “The library is closed for renovations. You’ll use the equipment room at the rink. It’s quiet. No distractions. You start tonight at eight.”

“Eight?” I frowned. “That’s past my scheduled reading time.”

“It’s when the rink is empty, Feya. Take it or leave it.”

I looked at the peeling ceiling tile. I thought about the tuition bill I couldn't pay. I thought about my father sitting in a prison cell, and I thought about going days on an empty stomach. I couldn’t get expelled.

“I’ll take it,” I said.

“Rivers?” Wallace asked.

Jaxson stood up. He was so tall it felt like the ceiling had suddenly dropped. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable, though I suspected it involved a lot of disdain.

“Fine,” he rasped. He grabbed his gear bag and walked out, the heavy door slamming behind him. I winced again.

“He’s a good kid, Feya,” Wallace said, though he sounded strained. “He’s just under a lot of pressure.”

“Right.”

Coach Wallace was quiet and I could sense his eyes on me. “May I leave now, sir?” I asked. He cleared his throat and nodded. “8pm tomorrow, Miss Baldwin.” He reminded.

I walked out of the office, and met Maya who was waiting by the lockers. She took one look at my face and shoved a piece of black licorice toward me.

“That bad?” she asked.

“That bad. I have to tutor him or lose my scholarship.”

Maya’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s so fucked. Very low, Wallace.” She shook her head,taking. “But you’re going to do it?”

“I have to,” I said. “It’s not really a choice you know.”

I looked at the clock. It was 3:15 PM. In four hours and forty-five minutes, I was going to be alone in a dark room with the most infamous boy in school.

I needed a solid plan. And probably more licorice.