Just a Pucking Prank [COMPLETED]

Chapter 8 - Heated words

Lydia

Tuesday afternoon, I'm in my media class keeping an eye on the time and wondering if I'll have time to pick up a coffee before I head to the Den. As the lesson ends, I sigh and decide I probably should head straight over. Otherwise, Wes is going to freak out.

"Lydia, can I talk to you?" I look up to see who's speaking and spot professor Turner. She's looking at me with her usual kind, but serious expression.

I kiss my coffee good bye and stay back as the rest of the class leaves.

"Yes?"

"I was grading your paper this morning."

My stomach clenches. I know what's coming.

"It wasn't great," she says and takes a seat on the desk. "And, frankly, I'm a bit concerned about your ability to pass this class."

It was a dream of mine once to be on tv, to be a news presenter or have my own talk show. I had almost dismissed it as a stupid childhood dream when my mom gave me the brochures for the media and communication program at UNI.

Then it all got dark.

Professor Turner is still speaking. I blink away the memories and focus on her.

"If you want to pass the class... Well, this is not enough."

Dreams. Goals. I used to have them. A lot of them.

"I want to pass. Is there anything I can do?"

She smiles at me. A warm, sincere smile. Not the smile I remember from seeing her as a newscaster, but a smile for just me.

"There is. But I think the most important thing is that you decide to put some effort into this class." She looks a bit concerned. "I'll be honest with you. I know what happened. And throughout last year, I saw moments of how great you could be. But I also saw how you slipped away. This year, that's not going to work. What we did last year was easy. It was the basics. But this year, I need you to put the effort in and prove to me that you want to be here. Can you do that?"

I nod. "Yes."

"I want you to succeed, not just here, but in life. I prepared these for you. Look them over and let me know if you have questions." She hands me a few papers.

"I will."

"Good. Then I will see you tomorrow."

I put the papers in my bag and set off toward the Den. When I reach the nearest bus stop, I check my app. I could walk. But if there's a bus within the next few minutes, that will be faster.

Of course, it's in the opposite direction of where mine and Ellie's apartment is, so I can't even stop by with my bag.

I decide to wait for the bus and take a few deep breaths. How bad could it possibly be?

Wes' face when I enter the Den says it all. He's mad. I'm barely a minute late, and he looks like he wants to strangle me.

He stands right in front of me and crosses his arms. He's dressed in a t-shirt showing off the veins on his forearms. I don't let my eyes linger.

"You're late."

"What are you? My keeper?" I try to step around him, but this man loves blocking people. Maybe because it's his job on the ice?

"Do you know how disrespectful it is to be late? Not just to me, but to Ms Tina."

"Get over it, Porter. I'm here now." Again, I try to step around him.

"You should have been here five minutes ago."

I sigh and stare up at him. "Then maybe we should get going?"

This time, he lets me pass and walks next to me.

"Do you take anything seriously?"

I scoff. "Everything isn't life and death." It's meant as a joke, but even I can hear that there's more depth and meaning behind the words than there should be.

"You are such a selfish brat." He shakes his head. "I guess I should be glad you showed up at all."

"You're one to talk." I reach for the glass door to the store, but he holds it closed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that you selfishly use women when it suits you."

"What? No, I don't."

I let go of the door and turn to him. He does the same.

"Are you seriously denying using my friend and then just dropping her when you thought something better came along?"

"It's not the same."

"No, because you actually hurt someone."

"Is that what this is all about? You're mad at me because I didn't hook up with your friend?"

"That's not it, and you know it. You showed no respect whatsoever."

"Respect? As if you even know the word."

There's the sound of a woman clearing her throat next to us and we both freeze. I'm not sure when we raised our voices, but we were practically screaming at each other. Right outside the store.

I take a step back and turn to the small woman with her arm in a cast. Ms Tina has dark hair in small, shiny curls about her head. She's wearing thick red glasses and has to be in her late fifties.

"There are people all around you." Her eyes narrow as she gestures to the area behind us. A few people have stopped to look at us and I can feel my cheeks heat. It's not like the Den is filled with people, but I recognize a couple of the other hockey players and a group of girls I think are on the figure skating team.

"This is not how you behave when the dean has given you a second chance to stay here at UNI," Ms Tina says. "Get in here right now before I change my mind and inform the dean that this isn't going to work out."

"We're sorry Ms Tina," Wes says as he goes inside.

"Yes," I say. "It won't happen again."

"I should hope not. Now put your things in the back so I can explain what I expect of you here."

We find a small back room where we hang our bags. There's a small table, a door that leads to a bathroom, and a few cupboards. A microwave takes up half of the table and stacks of boxes occupy much of the floor space.

"I'll stay with you today, but from Thursday I expect you to close up by yourselves," Ms Tina says when we get back. "And don't even think about closing early. The security guard, Kevin, will let me know. Now, as to what you need to do while here..."

I listen to her explain the very simple duties we have. Mostly it's just putting out the new stock, hanging things, folding other things and cleaning up. She shows us how to use the register and the wall of skates that are for rent.

Aside from the pro shop, there's a small cafe open most days, but that's it. She explains that she does most of her business on game days and days with public skates.

It doesn't take me long to regret even thinking of the prank we pulled on Wes. The work is mind numbingly boring. I hang jerseys and arrange them according to size until I'm ready to scream. The only interruptions are a few customers stopping by.

I sigh and get on with it. At least Wes is also suffering through this.