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Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Assistant Coach: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

74 Kabanata

Twenty-One |Leia Welsh|

Friday came rolling in like a freight train, catching me off guard. Wasn't it just Wednesday yesterday? Maybe it's because of the long engineering lectures I've barely managed to endure or the hockey practices, but time has gone by fast. I hurry through my shower, scrubbing my teeth with a bit more force than necessary, my mind already on the game tonight. The guys better be ready, it's six o'clock and the game starts in an hour. We have to drive to Iverton University, which is a good thirty minutes away. I slick back my hair with gel, tossing it into a low ponytail. I dab some cream on the ends, hoping to tame the wild curls. I throw on a snug gray sweater, black jeans, and gray van sneakers, ready to hit the road. "Are you ready, Ari?" I call out as I enter the living room, stifling a laugh at the sight of her in a Willowbrook football jersey. She looks so pumped up; I can't bring myself to break it to her that she's got the wrong jersey on. Who's gonna notice, right? Sammie,

Twenty-Two |Kohl Warren|

I glare at the smug guy standing in front of me, the same guy whose nose I made bleed with a well-placed punch earlier. He's wearing a cocky grin under his helmet, and I can feel my anger bubbling up inside me. "Let's make a little deal here, if we win, you apologize for my nose—" There's no way I'm going to apologize for that. "—And if you win, I'll apologize directly to your coach," he replies, his smirk widening. "Deal," I say, maybe a little too quickly, but I can't help myself. This guy's arrogance is getting under my skin. As soon as the whistle blows, I get the puck and start skating down the ice, my eyes locked on Ant as I pass him the puck, he zooms past me with lightning speed. I push myself to catch up, feeling the icy air whipping against my face as I move. I see an Iverton player trying to block Ant's path, so I take matters into my own hands and give the guy a hard shove, sending him crashing into the barricade. The crowd roars with excitement as I skate past, a smi

Twenty-Three |Leia Welsh|

They tied. The scoreboard blinks 3-3, a perfect stalemate. The final buzzer sounds, and the players hang their heads in defeat. Iverton’s coach is having a full-blown meltdown, screaming and hurling insults at his team. The fans on both sides are going wild, but it's all just noise now.I watch them all from my spot in the box, unmoved. They gave it their all, I'll give them that much. Kateb breaks his hockey stick in half on the ice, while Warren punches the bench with his bare fist. I can feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. "I think you should be the one to go talk to them," I say to Coach Johnson, who looks just as glum as the rest of the guys. He nods in agreement.As the boys trudge off to the locker room with Coach Johnson, I stay behind, leaning against the boards and staring at the scoreboard. The numbers mock me, taunting me with our win and loss.Out of the corner of my eye, I see a player from Iverton drop to his knees on the ice, picking up the two pieces of

Twenty-Four |Leia Welsh|

I'm trapped in a never-ending loop at the Aurora mall parking lot, looping around like a deranged NASCAR driver. The speakers are shaking with the force of Katy Perry's "USA" anthem because, well, what else is there to do when you've finished all your classes, don't have hockey practice, and have your friend’s car? Ari's sparkling white Jeep Wrangler is my trusty steed for this aimless adventure. She's kind enough to let me borrow it since she barely touches the thing. The only condition she gave me was to not transform it into a crumpled metal mess, which seems like an obvious request. I mean, come on, crashing is not on my to-do list. I'm basically the reincarnation of Mario Andretti behind the wheel. I slam on the brakes so hard that my head smacks the steering wheel, my curls cascading in front of my face like a tangled mess. Frantically, I swipe them away, my heart racing with panic. I lift my gaze, and my eyes practically bulge out of their sockets when I see Warren, Tim, an

Twenty-Five |Leia Welsh|

Principal Turner decided to shower me with praise this morning, going on and on about how I single-handedly led the team to victory. Even though he knew, it was a tie. The cold air bites at my skin as I glide across the ice, feeling the chill seep into my bones. My outfit of choice—a tight white compression shirt and black jeans—does nothing to keep me warm. I decided to let my long hair down, hoping it would provide some much-needed warmth. After a sleepless night of studying, I find myself at the rink, setting up cones for a new drill. I call it the zig zag stop. I skate full throttle to the first cone, slide to the left for the second, and come to a sudden halt. This is just too easy. I think about it for a moment, tapping my skate impatiently against the ice. A smirk forms on my lips as I come up with an idea, but I quickly realize that I can't execute it alone. I've been noticing a trend with the boys – they excel in solo drills but struggle when paired up. It's like they al

Twenty-Six |Kohl Warren|

Today has been dragging on forever. I've already aced three tests in various classes but my mind keeps drifting back to Leia from last night. She's like a stubborn stain that won't come out, no matter how hard I scrub. It's annoying how she doesn't even realize the effect she has on me. Like when she almost killed us from her ‘great driving’ all I wanted to do was kiss her. Psychotic, maybe.I had to bail early last night because just her gaze alone was enough to give me a raging boner. And don't even get me started on when she accidentally fell on me, and her boobs were practically plastered against my chest. Yeah, that didn't help my situation. "Your big game is coming up next Friday, it will be an away game, at Greeley," Coach Johnson announces, his voice cutting through the frigid air. I can feel the cold seeping into my bare feet, the ice clinging to my socks like an unwanted guest.We're all gathered on the ice, standing in our socks like a bunch of idiots. The other guys l

Twenty-Seven |Leia Welsh|

October is finally here, thank goodness.September dragged on forever. With the boys' hockey game just three days away, I've been cracking the whip on them to make sure they're in top form–"Why are we here, Leia?" Ari questions, taking a sip of her slushy and eyeing the players on the ice. I brought Ari along because I didn't want to leave her alone at the boys' practice. I had a sneaky feeling that Tim would keep trying to charm her, and I wasn't about to let that happen. Instead of going to practice, I dragged Ari here with me, at Iverton University. "Just wanted to chat with the coach about something," I reply, brushing off Ari's inquisitive looks and focusing on the players as they warm up. Perched in the stands, I observe as they skate and run through their scrimmage.They're not as aggressive as they were when they faced off against us. Their movements are smooth and precise, showcasing their skills. If they had played like this during our match, they would have come out on

Twenty-Eight |Kohl Warren|

Leia wasn't at practice today. She never misses practice, but today she decided to break the streak. The thought of her absence gnaws at me. Did something happen?My curiosity gets the best of me as I stroll around campus, my nonchalant demeanor masking the concern that's bubbling up inside me. When I finally spot a redhead, I call out to her, and she waves me over with a bright smile. I quickly jog to her side and get straight to the point. "Where's Leia? She wasn't at practice," I ask, my tone trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Ari hesitates, looking down at the ground before finally meeting my gaze. "She's in our dorm, Twelve-B in the Walcott dorms. I don't think she's okay, she seemed mad when we were driving back here," she explains. My eyebrow quirks up. Leia mad? That's no surprise, but I still want to know why. I mentally debate whether or not I should check up on her. In the end, my curiosity wins out. I mean, I do want to know why she's mad, and if Leia asks why I'

Twenty-Nine |Leia Welsh|

I can practically taste the tension in the air as the Iverton players enter the rink, their loud laughter echoing off the walls. They strut around like they own the place, tossing their gear onto the benches without a care in the world. Coach Johnson shoots me a knowing look and mutters under his breath, "You know it's gonna be chaos when they see them out here." I nod grimly, already bracing myself for the impending showdown. Just as I'm mentally preparing for the storm, a voice calls out my name from behind. Adam. I ignore him and I turn my attention to the aisles to see Ari, cool as a cucumber, lounging on the seats with a book in hand. She looks completely unbothered, flipping through pages with an adorable smile. The sound of laughter grows louder as my boys enter the rink, their faces a mixture of surprise and anger. They freeze in their tracks before quickly rushing onto the ice, their expressions full of defiance. It's clear they're ready for a fight."Stop!" I shout, my vo

Thirty |Leia Welsh|

I drum my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, my gaze fixed on the weathered oak door. The paint is chipped and worn, revealing the bare wood underneath. The lawn is a patchwork of yellowed grass and weeds, neglected and unkempt. The short metal fence that surrounds the property is bent and rusted in places, a testament to years of neglect. I let out a sigh, my breath misting in the chilly air inside the car. I absentmindedly nibble on a perfectly manicured nail, my nerves getting the best of me. The rain falls gently, creating a soft pitter-patter on the car's windshield. The only other sound is the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers as they clear the rain from the glass. The sky is a dull gray, heavy with clouds that seem to stretch on forever. Occasionally, a flash of lightning illuminates the horizon, but the thunder is distant, a mere echo of the storm. The house itself looms before me, its weathered facade giving off an air of abandonment. It's a small, nondesc

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