Shut Out (Bayard Hockey #1)(2)
I scrunch my face up. “Which is…?”
Dad glances at Mom. “It’s a Sexual Assault Prevention and Awareness Program.”
I draw in a long, slow breath as heat rises inside me again. I’ve already had this conversation with my parents and they insist they believe me, but once more I want to tell them, I didn’t do it. I meet Dad’s eyes. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Yes, son. We believe you.”
My throat tightens up again. I’m not entirely sure if I buy that, but they’ve stood by me through this mess, and I f*cking love them so much for it I could weep.
“They’re piloting this new program as part of their orientation.” Dad stares at a paper in his hand and reads from it. “?‘To promote healthy relationships, teach nonviolence and equality, and advance a respectful, consensual, and safe environment for all members of Bayard College.’?”
I nod, letting this all sink in. It sounds like some kind of sex offender rehab program. Jesus Christ. I cover my eyes with one hand. Can my humiliation get any more painful? But apparently every new student has to go through this training.
“Um, where is this college?” Maybe somewhere sweet like California or Florida…?
“Upper New York State. Ridgedale. Not far across the border, actually.”
Great.
“More and more NHL teams are drafting NCAA players,” Mr. Gagnon continues. “Last year’s number one draft pick played NCAA and now plays for the Oilers.”
I’m aware of this.
“If you play well and stay out of trouble, teams will be interested in you.” Mr. Gagnon pauses. “This scandal will die down.”
“Last year, guys who played for the Coyotes got suspended because of something like this.” I meet Mr. Gagnon’s eyes. “They didn’t get kicked off the team. And two of them are in the NHL now.”
Mr. Gagnon nods. “Yes. And I’m not gonna lie to you. There were a lot of people outraged they got off so easy. You know it’s been in the news, the talk about rape culture in male sports. The police didn’t find sufficient evidence in this case to press charges, but it’s been a big enough deal to hit national news, so we can’t sweep it under the rug.”
Hell yeah, I know it’s been in the news.
“If you think this isn’t hard for me, you’re wrong,” Mr. Gagnon adds, his shoulders drooping. “We supported your career, Jacob. You had—have a bright future.”
Great. Not only have I disappointed my parents, I’ve let down the entire team.
“We had a chance at the league championship this year,” he continues. “Maybe we could’ve even won the Memorial Cup. Without you…probably not gonna happen. There’s been pressure from both sides, on the one hand to somehow make this go away so we can win…on the other hand…”
I get what he’s saying. Loud and f*cking clear. They’re making an example out of Crash, Ace, and me. Just f*cking great.
American college hockey. I have no clue what I’d be getting into. A million f*cking questions blast through my head. Where will I live? I won’t know a soul there. I have a brain, but do I really have what it takes to pass a bunch of college courses? I’ll be playing for a whole new team and won’t know the coach or any of the players either.
I rub my forehead. What f*cking choice do I really have? I’ll have hockey. And that’s all that matters. “Okay.” I swallow once more past that puck lodged in my throat. “If that’s the only way I get to play hockey, then I guess that’s what I have to do.”
Chapter 2
Skylar
I have Goals for myself, which I have typed up, printed out, and pinned to the bulletin board above my desk in my room. Goal number one: Get straight As in every course. Goal number two: Get straight As in every course. Goal number three: Get straight As in every course. And, of course, get into medical school at Harvard.
My freshman year last year at Bayard College sucked huge effing donkey balls. It was the worst year of my life, and I’m not being all drama queen when I say that. It started so promising, my two high school besties, Brendan and Ella, and me in college together, on our own, free and ready to take on the world.
We were having fun, exploring our independence and freedom away from our parents, maybe making a few bad decisions like staying up way too late the night before a midterm, or blowing the budget on a new pair of boots instead of food. But hey, everyone does that kind of stuff.
Then, in our second semester, Brendan committed suicide.
Yeah. Saying it was hard doesn’t even mean anything. I was messed up. I somehow managed to pass three courses by the skin of my teeth, which isn’t good enough. I flunked the other two. This was another big blow, because I’d let my parents down. All my life I’ve worked so hard to please them, and damn, it was hard to tell them I’d failed two courses and would have to take them over.
Thinking about Brendan still makes me ache. I’ll never really get over it, never really forget him. I had to dig myself out of a deep black hole, but I understand more about grieving, and more about the demons Brendan was fighting, and I’m moving forward. I got some counseling through this great program we have at Bayard, SAPAP, which mainly helps people with sexual abuse but also helps with other crises and does a lot of outreach work on campus. That made me want to get involved with them, partly for selfish reasons, because I needed something to get away from my thoughts but also to give back and help others.