Free Power Play by Eric Walters

mostly—over the years, offering me help with one thing or another. I’d learned that talk was cheap.
    “Alcohol is often a problem with hockey players … a big problem. I’ve lived it and I’ve seen it. If I can help you or anybody else, well, that’s my duty.”
    “Thank you,” I repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.
    “It’s hard to grow up with an alcoholic parent. I know about that too,” he said.
    Wow! Somehow my father’s drinking had finally worked in my favour! It looked like he was going to let me get away with this. I started to get up.
    “Now we just have to figure out what to do about you missing curfew and this underage drinking.”
    I slumped back down. The only luck I ever had was bad.
    “In the long run, it wouldn’t be fair to you to brush this under the carpet. What do
you
think I should do?”
    I shook my head. I had no real idea, and I figured “Leave me alone” wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
    “I do know that everything starts with being honest … including the punishment. So tell me what happened tonight, and remember, I’m pretty good at telling when somebody is lying to me.”
    Great. If I told him the truth, I’d be betraying Coach Connors … and turning my back on my whole future. But there wasn’t much choice. I’d have to tell the truth … well, at least part of the truth.
    “I’m sorry, sir. I admit it. I was drinking. I had four beers … no, five. I shouldn’t have had any, but I drank too much … I’m not used to drinking.”
    “Let’s hope you
don’t
get used to it. Now, there’s no way that any bar in town would serve you, so where did the beer come from?” he asked.
    “Sir, you’re putting me in a bad place,” I said. That was no lie. “I know I’m in trouble, and I deserve to be in trouble, it’s just that I can’t tell you … I can’t rat out somebody else.”
    “Is it another one of the players at our camp?” he asked.
    “No, sir, it isn’t.” It wasn’t a player. “I just don’t want to get
her
in any trouble.” That was just one word of a lie.
    He leaned forward and placed a hand on my shoulder.“I guess there’s honour in protecting a girl. You wouldn’t be the first guy who thought with his groin instead of his head. Let’s call it a night.”
    “Thanks, sir.” I got up and went for the door.
    “We’ll meet tomorrow and I’ll let you know what your punishment is going to be,” he said.
    Hopes dashed again. “What could happen?” I asked.
    “You could be expelled and sent home.”
    I felt sick again, but this time it had nothing to do with beer.
    “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
    “Thanks, sir.”
    “Get to sleep,” he said.
    The night passed slowly, without much sleep. For starters, the guys wouldn’t let me drift off until I’d told them all about what had happened between me and my imaginary date. She was a lot better looking than any girl I’d ever actually gone out with. Not to mention a lot more accommodating. I’d never gotten that lucky with a real girl.
    The next morning, the door to the coaches’ office was open. Coach Terry was at his desk and Coach Connors was sitting in a chair next to it.
    “Come in,” Coach Terry said. “And close the door.”
    I sat down.
    “How are you feeling this morning?” Terry asked.
    “Good … fine … really sorry.”
    “And your head. Do you have a hangover?” Terry asked.
    “No, I’m good,” I lied. “Ready to play.”
    “Whether you’ll be able to play hasn’t been determined,” he said ominously. “The first thing I did this morning was talk to Coach Connors about what happened. He was very disappointed in you.”
    “Very,” Coach Connors said solemnly.
    I looked at him closely. He did look disappointed. Was he disappointed that I’d been caught? Had he said anything to Terry to explain what happened?
    “Your decision to drink reflects badly on him,” Terry continued.
    My
decision. It was Coach Connors’s decision, his beer,