Ellie:
Okay counting my blessings here, cough with a pinch of salt cough.
I got into my dream college but my father hates me for it. I am finally confident enough to wear what I want without letting others affect my choices, but people still ridicul...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
LOGAN
Dean West is a force on the field. I am talking six-three, two hundred pounds of pure power, which can rattle the NHL if he ever tries out for it. I don't think NHL is going to overlook Dean injuring their other players to death but they'll probably take the chance.
It's a practise session going on and I am pretty sure he already broke Hunter's ankle, at least that's how it looks like from here. Hunter is on the floor, on the bare ice mind you, and gripping his ankle like his life depends on it. It probably does.
"Fuck you Dean," Hunter grumbles.
"I'm sorry man, I didn't see you coming, I am sorry, I am sure it's nothing and you'll be okay," Dean looks like he's three seconds away from crying and this is the paradox. How does a guy who body slams into others right and left, so affected by this?
I have never seen Dean bat an eyelash for anyone else and once, he slammed into my plexi so hard I saw stars behind my eyes for hours on end.
"Can you get up?" I crouch down beside Hunter and glace at his ankle, "I mean it looks fine..."
Dear God, please let it be nothing. If he actually broke his ankle, Dean will be dealt with by coach sure, but I can kiss my newly appointed position of the captain of the team goodbye and no matter how much I would want to grovel for a mistake that wasn't even mine, I know that would just disgust Coach even more. The guy's a hard nut to crack.
"Hunter, coach is here," Aaron slides on the ice, like melted butter on a marble counter. He glances over at me and gives me a half smile. I instantly ease up; this is Aaron's sign that everything is okay.
"What's all the fuss about?!" Coach's voice booms from behind me and I stand up.
"Hunter if you're going to throw a sissy fit every time you take a hit you better go do something other than hockey," He kneels down in my place, turning Hunter's ankles left and right and not too kindly I must say.
"I kid you not, the fucker broke it," Hunter protests, his hands shooting to protect his ankle from the assault from coach.
Coach shakes his head disapprovingly, before looking at me and everything in my spine straightens at once, "Logan, your grandma's here, go talk to her and let me worry about Hunter."
"Alright coach," I bend down and clasp Hunter on the shoulder, "Break dean's jaw in return."
"Motherfucker," Dean says, shooting me a crooked grin.
I skate towards the entrance and slide off my skates. What's Nana doing here at ten in the morning anyway?
Curious, I go towards the locker and dump my bag and skates hurriedly and by the time, I am leaving, I keep wondering if I actually locked the place or not. I hate when my brain does this, like I just closed the locker door, why can't I remember if I locked it or not?
