Fake Skating(25)

“What is it?” my mom asked, leaning over to see his phone.

“Oh shit, this is not good,” he said, holding it out for my mom to see.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Is that Alec?” My mom grabbed his phone and squinted as she looked at the screen.

“What has the hockey god Zeus done now?” I asked, stabbing a meatball with my fork. “Walked on water?”

But when I raised my eyes, they were both looking at me like I was a jerk.

“What?”

“I’m going to go call Sarah,” my mom said, and then she jumped out of her chair and ran upstairs.

“What happened?” I asked Grandpa Mick, suddenly worried. “Is everything okay?”

He gave his head a shake. “Someone posted this on social media.”

He held up his phone, and there was a picture of Alec.

A picture of Alec holding what appeared to be the world’s biggest bong, and his eyes were only half open; he looked hammered. And happy.

With a raging fire in the background.

“What was he thinking?” I said under my breath, relieved he wasn’t hurt but also disappointed, because how was it possible that Alec had become that guy?

“He wasn’t,” my grandpa said. “And now he totally fucked over his future.”

“But isn’t weed legal in Minnesota?” I didn’t know anything about it, to be honest, but my grandpa’s response seemed like a bit of an overreaction. “I mean, I know he’s a minor, but I doubt something like this will ruin his future. Like, he’s not going to go to jail for drugs, right?”

“No, I’m talking about his hockey future.”

“Oh. That,” I said, and I must’ve sounded too casual, because he looked at me like I was an uncaring ass.

But I wasn’t.

Even though I didn’t know this stranger Alec had become, I didn’t want bad things to happen to him.

My grandpa said, “He might’ve just screwed up his shot at making the US training team.”

“I don’t know what that is. Like, the Olympics?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said. “There is literally a board of old hockey dudes who decide the roster, and if they think he’s going to crash and burn once he gets to the next level or be a locker-room cancer, they’ll choose someone else.”

No way. TheOlympics. He was thatgood? Like Olympic traininggood?

Alec may have grown into a complete tool, but this could not be good for him or for Big John and Sarah. I hated this for them. Not for Zeus, but for the old Alec who used to be my best friend.

“Is there anything he can do?” I asked. “He’s a teenager. Can’t he just apologize?”

“I don’t know,” he said as he scooped up a meatball. “If this was the first issue, they might let it go, but my buddies said he got an MIP last year, and he’s been in a few fights, so he might seem like too much of a risk.”

Fights. Like plural? As in multiple fights.“I cannot believe Alec has become someone who fights and parties all the time,” I said, shaking my head. How much had he changed from the last time I saw him?

“He’s not,” my mom said as she walked into the room, looking absolutely offended by my words. “He got in a couple of fights back when John was in the hospital and things were super tough for their family. And the MIP was just teenagers being dumb. It looks bad when you put it all together, but he’s still a good kid.”

Her words punched me right in the gut. I reached for my water and wondered if she was right. Maybe I was being too judgmental.

“Sarah said all of Alec’s coaches are on their way over right now to talk to him and come up with a plan.”

“All of them? Like, an entire coaching staff is en route to yell at him over a random photo?”

“I’m sure,” Grandpa Mick said. “Because it’s not just his future that’s at stake.”

What is that supposed to mean?

“But we’re talking about hockey here,” I clarified. “Not his entire future.”

“They go hand in hand. It’s hockey with the potential to change the trajectory of his entire life,” my mom said in a scolding tone, her eyes narrowing at me. “Now eat your spaghetti.”





CHAPTER TWELVE Alec




“Are you okay?” my mom asked, pushing open my door, letting the light from the hallway flood into the dark bedroom where I was lying on my bed.

Was I okay?

Fuck if I know.

She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, watching me with the same overworried, overprotective look she’d worn for most of my life.

Especially since the accident.

Everyone had finally left, thank God, so she was checking in after witnessing me getting yelled at for two hours straight.

God, it was so stupid.

I hadn’t even put my mouth on megabong. As much as I’d wanted to get hammered at the bonfire, I’d been a good boy and steered clear of Reid’s party favors. I’d laughed my ass off when I saw his ridiculous apparatus, of which Tawnee had snapped a photo, but I’d hardcore passed on that nonsense. In the end I’d known better, but now no one believed that I’d just been holding it.