The Inside Edge: Chapter Twelve

Then again, maybe Danette had been correct in her ominous prophecy. No sooner had the game ended and Brianne found herself walking toward the exit of the hockey arena then she heard Mitch’s voice booming out over the hustle and bustle of bodies:

            “Hey, Brianne! Wait up for a minute…”

            Turning around, she was just in time to watch far too many pairs of eyes swivel from Mitch to Brianne and then back again. She supposed it was just the heightened sensation to being publicly called out, but she swore a weird sort of hush fell over the lobby as he jogged up toward her.

            “Hey, Coach.”

            “Mitch,” he reminded her.

            Brianne shrugged. “It seems more fitting when I’m here—”

            “Then again,” Mitch said, talking over her as though Brianne hadn’t responded, “as far as openings go, that’s a pretty good one.”

            Brianne felt her forehead wrinkle. “Huh?”

            Shifting his eyes a little to the left, Mitch coughed. “I, ah, well…” Shifting his weight from one foot to the next, it seemed that he’d only just become aware of the attention they were gathering.

            “Spit it out,” Brianne teased when a few seconds of silence followed this jerking start.

            Running a rough hand through his hair, Mitch lifted his gaze back up to hers. “As we’ve discussed before, you’ve really been a great help to the team, but—”

            But. Brianne felt her stomach recoil at the ominous, softly-spoken word. “Oh.” She had a terrible idea she knew where this was going. “But?”
            Mitch shrugged. “Well, I worry that we’ve already imposed on you as much as can be expected for someone who never signed up to help a hockey team.”

            “It’s okay,” Brianne said, forestalling him from having to say any more. No matter the capacity, break-ups were always awkward things. And the rejected one should always, always have the ability to safe face. “I think the rink offers open ice on Wednesday mornings. I can go to those instead.”

            Mitch blinked. “So we have imposed.”

            “What? No, I didn’t say that––”

            “Then what are you saying?” Tilting his head a bit, Mitch studied her slowly pinkening cheeks.

            In defense, Brianne hitched her chin up a notch. “I thought…aren’t you asking me to make myself scarce on Sundays? It’s okay, you know. I understand.”

            “Ah, no. That’s the opposite of what I’m saying.”

            “I’m confused.”

            “Wait.” Holing up a hand, Mitch laughed gently. “Let’s start over. I think we got our wires crossed.”

            Laughing weakly, Brianne nodded. “All right. You wanted to tell me something?”

            “The parents,” with a subtle nod of his head, Mitch gestured toward the circle of gawking adults a few yards away. “They, um, well…I don’t know if you noticed, but a couple of them were at practice last Sunday.”

            Shaking her head bemusedly, Brianne admitted that she hadn’t noticed them. Silently, she knew it was because she’d been so focused on not noticing Mitch that she’d kept her eyes deliberately steady on the boys circling the rink around her, shooting pucks toward her.

            “It didn’t take them long to see that I was right. You’re good for this team.”

            Brianne ducked her head. “I wish everyone would stop saying that.”

            “Why?”

            “It’s starting to feel like a lot of pressure.”

            “Then what I’m going to say next is only going to compound that.”

            “You want me to be on the coaching staff.”

            Mitch blinked. “In a way, yes.” He narrowed his eyes. “How’d you know?”
            “Word gets around,” Brianne muttered. Pulling a face, she shook her head. “But I mean, that doesn’t even make sense. I know almost nothing about hockey.”

            “But those kids rally around you. They want to impress you, they want your respect.”

            Brianne refused to put too much stock in those words. “For now, maybe. They’re showing off.”

            “At first, maybe,” Mitch conceded. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

            Brianne laughed weakly. “No?”
            “If that were the case, they’d be competing with one another, against one another.”

            “Right. Okay, so I’ve gotten them to work together a bit, but I mean, isn’t this taking it a bit far?”
            “Hey Ms. K!” The loud voice belonged to none other than Charlie.

            Then Cory’s voice floated overhead: “You made it! Did you see my goal?”

            “Ms. K., are you coming to the tournament next weekend?”

            At the loud rambling of a handful of boys, Brianne felt her face heat up. Mitch used it to his advantage. Giving her a level look, he only smiled. “No, I don’t think that’s taking it a bit too far.”

            “I have a job.”

            “I know.” Mitch sighed. “And you don’t have to do it, but—well, the parents started a collection last week to pay you a salary. It’s nothing huge, but…”
            “They did?” Brianne couldn’t quite believe it. “Most of them have never even met me.”

            “Most of them hadn’t personally met me before the start of the season, either. They still wanted a good coach.”

            “Well, that’s not quite the same, is it?”
            “The other day, I said that you were our secret weapon,” Mitch reminded her. “And I still think that’s true, but you’ve become something different for these kids. You’re like a…God, I hope this isn’t insensitive, but you’re like the team mascot, the beloved figure that they rally around.”

            Brianne nodded. “It is a bit insensitive, but I appreciate the sentiment behind it.”

            “You’re the one thing that doesn’t remind them of how things used to be, before the school merge.”

            Brianne chewed on the words. “Yeah. Okay.”

            Mitch offered her a sheepish look. “Hey, I know it’s asking a lot. And you didn’t sign up for any of this, but…”

            “But anything for a winning season, right?”

            “Your presence is less about winning and more about acceptance. Cooperation. Forgiveness. Moving on.”

            “Laying it on a bit thick.”

            Mitch grinned. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

            Brianne took a moment, her eyes glancing away from Mitch and toward the parents huddled so anxiously together in one corner of the lobby. Though they pretended otherwise, it was obvious that all ears were stretched toward her and Mitch.

            And something about it weakened Brianne’s resistance.

            “And what exactly would I be doing?”

            “Are you saying…?”

            “I’m saying I’m willing to discuss it.”

            Mitch’s smile kicked up a couple of notches. Brianne couldn’t help but react, her own eyes lowering demurely as her lips tugged upward.

            “Okay. Mostly, you’ll just help them run drills.”

            “Drills?”

            “I coach them and they coach you. And in the process, they’ll become even better players.”

            “You’ve put some thought into this.”

            “I’m punting, actually,” Mitch admitted. “But I’ve watched them with you. It forces them to work together, to lean on each other’s strengths, to hewn their skills. They get better by teaching you.”

             “So basically, I’d be doing the same thing I already do on Sundays?”
            “To start.”

            “Flailing around, getting winded and bruised…”

            Mitch titled his head a little to one side. “And laughing.”

            Brianne smirked. “Well, yes, okay…”

            “And having a good time. Because you’ve certainly always done those on Sundays.”

            Brianne peeked up at him coyly. “You’ve definitely put some thought into this.”

            “Presenting my case?”
            “Yes.”

            Mitch sighed. “Yeah. I tried it out on Cory last night. He approved.”

            “Aha.” Still, despite the coolness of her tone, Brianne was quietly pleased with the level of effort Mitch had put into his proposal. And she was staggered but flattered by the strength of the parents’ support and petition. They’d raised money for her?

            “I only have one last question,” Brianne considered.

            “Shoot.”

            “What would my official title be?”

            “Sounds like you’re considering it.”

            “Might be.”

            Mitch laughed. “Uh, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

            “Because I don’t want it to be ‘mascot’.”

            “No,” Mitch said in mock-seriousness. “That wouldn’t do at all.”

            “What about team coordinator?”

            Mitch grinned. “If that’ll get you to say yes.”

            Brianne pressed her lips tightly together, waited just a beat before nodding slowly. “Yes. It’s a yes.”

***

Walking the length of her apartment’s courtyard that night, Brianne couldn’t fight off the grin eating up an entire half of her face. She wasn’t sure why she was so excited but…dammit, she was part of the team now.

            Officially.

            Even though she knew nothing about hockey, had relatively limited experience with kids, and certainly hadn’t ever planned on wearing a whistle around her neck and hollering out drills…there was something intoxicating about the idea of it all now.

            “Watch where you’re going!”

            At the bark of her neighbor’s voice, reality crashed down upon Brianne’s head. Offering the crotchety woman little more than a quick glance, she smiled tightly. Righting her steps, Brianne silently (and begrudgingly) cursed: she had veered off the concrete pathway and onto the grass.

            “I hope you drive better than you walk.”

            Brianne didn’t slow down only tossed over one shoulder: “Never been in an accident.”

            “Pray you never do.”

            The words, though softly said, almost as if the older woman hadn’t meant to utter them at all, nonetheless reached Brianne as she fit her key in the lock; they packed a powerful punch. Stilling, Brianne found her eyes looking back over at her neighbor.

            She had her mouth posed instinctively in question when she was batted away.

            “Well, don’t stand there with your mouth gaping open. You look like a fish. And I don’t want to talk to you so go inside.”

            “Pardon me,” Brianne said, but there was a gentleness in her voice now. With a twist of her wrist, she did as demanded. But she wondered about that cryptic statement as she slowly undressed and headed for her shower. There had been something not quite controlled in the words.

            A pain still threading through the vowels.               A loneliness alive amidst the syllables.