Line Change by Heidi McLaughlin

Author:Heidi McLaughlin [McLaughlin, Heidi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-18T18:30:00+00:00

eighteen

Kyler

I fucked up. It’s the only way to sum up how I feel about things right now, and the only thing going well for me is hockey. Everything—shit with my mother, my sister, Thea, and school—all seems to be circling the drain. I don’t know if I’m coming or going half the time. One of the servers quit at The Crease, which somehow falls onto my shoulders since I’m the most “senior” person there, practice and games be damned. One of the new guys asked me to cover a shift and when I told them I had a game, he legit asked if I had to be there. Clearly, he’s not an NU fan because if he was, he’d know I’m the leading scorer in division three right now and yes, NU needs me there. I take that back. They don’t need me there because our second and third strings can get the job done, but they want me there, and sometimes it feels damn good to be wanted. Even if it’s by a bunch of sweaty hockey players. They want me because I’m their teammate and for the talent I bring to the ice. Nothing more. Winning isn’t on my shoulders, not with our exceptional line-up. We’re a team and we win as a team.

It’s Friday and we have a home game tonight. Regardless of whether we win or lose, people will congregate at our house. Fans and classmates want to celebrate or mourn with us. It’s funny because if the hockey boys are out and about at one of the restaurants, locals will buy our beer and dinner. It’s like we’re doing God’s work or something when in reality, all we’re doing is winning. We bring pride to Northport, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

I’m the first one to wake this morning. It’s chilly in the house and the stairs creak with old age. I adjust the thermostat when I get to the main floor and wait for the heat to kick on. Our house is in rough shape. The landlord doesn’t exactly take care of it because it’s the hockey house, so repairs are minimal. We call him if something isn’t working and maybe, if we’re lucky, he shows up in a timely manner. During the season, the mention of tickets sitting at will call usually gets him here faster. Once the heat starts streaming through the vents, I make my way into the kitchen. Ever since Thanksgiving, I’ve spent more time at home. I’ve tried to find a way to talk to Thea about what she saw, but she’s short with me. It’s “hi” and “bye” or she’ll tell me there’s a plate waiting for me in the refrigerator if I happen to come home early from a shift. Honestly, I’m surprised she still cooks for me. If I were her, I wouldn’t even bother because I’m not worth it. On the nights I go fight, I don’t come home at all and usually crash at the bar, in the office on the cot, or sleep in my car in my mother’s driveway.

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