Read Online Center Ice by Cate Cameron - Free Book Online Page B

were the most obvious thing in the world. “You two need to figure this out.”
    “She’s psycho,” I told her. “Seriously, you should get the doctor to check her out.”
    “Stop it, Karen.” Then her smile returned as she spoke into the phone. “Wendy, hi! It’s Natalie Beacon. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m hoping you can help us out. We’ve got a teenage girl with some bad scrapes on her arms… I just wanted to get them checked and properly cleaned out, if you could fit us in.” Her smile got a little tighter. “No, not Miranda. It’s my stepdaughter, Karen. Yes, she’s just come to live with us.” She looked away from me, out the open garage doors as if she, too, was wishing she could just run away and leave all this behind, but she managed to say, “Yes, of course, it is wonderful. There’s some adjusting to do, but you’re right. It’s wonderful.” She looked back at me as if she wanted to collect her reward for such a compelling performance, but I just raised my eyebrows.
    Yeah, it was wonderful. So wonderful I was bleeding all over her garage floors. If things got any more perfect, I might not be able to survive.

Chapter Eight
    - Tyler -
    “Looking good,” the team nutritionist said with a smile, “but I’d like a few more pounds of fat on you, if you can manage it. You’re too lean right now… Are you trying to impress the girls with your six-pack?”
    “I’m eating all I can. There’s only so many hours in the day, and I spend most of them either on the ice or chewing.” I didn’t want to sound defensive; the nutritionist was there to help. But, damn, it was getting old, not being able to do anything right.
    “Let’s add a shake,” she said easily. “Mostly protein, with a bit of fat. Mix it up and drink it right before bed.”
    “I already have one in the morning…”
    “Then I won’t bother giving you instructions on how to mix it.” She smiled again. “Seriously, a bit more fat would be good for you. Your growth has slowed down, but I expect you’ll end up with another inch or two—”
    “He’d better end up with more than that,” my dad interjected from behind me. “He’s barely six-one, now. I’m hoping for six-four or so.” There wasn’t much for anyone to say in response to that little bit of delusion, so he continued, ignoring me and directing his attention toward the nutritionist. “So he’ll eat an extra shake. What else? He runs in the mornings; is that burning too many calories?”
    After two years, the nutritionist was used to my dad. “We generally prefer to increase food intake rather than decrease exercise,” she said smoothly. “The shakes should work. He’s not at a dangerous level, just not optimal.”
    “He needs more muscle, too,” my dad insisted, “not just fat. He’s too damned small.”
    “You can talk to the trainers about building muscle,” she said calmly. “But I think they’re already aware of the issue. And I don’t think they consider him too small. As you said, he’s six-one, and his weight is good for that height.”
    My dad didn’t look convinced, but he let her go on to talk to the next player. Then he stared at me and said, “You’re too damned small.”
    “I can’t make myself grow, Dad.”
    “Not taller. But you can get bigger. You just need to work harder.”
    “I’m working hard. The trainers are happy—”
    “ I’m not happy,” he barked, and heads swiveled to stare at us. He was already the only parent in the room, having pushed his way in halfway through the testing. He didn’t pay any attention to anyone else, though, just shook his head at me with an expression of disgust on his face. “You need to get serious about this, boy.” He frowned at me, then jerked his head toward the exit as if he’d made an important decision. “Come here. I want to talk to you.”
    I didn’t bother to point out that he already was talking to me. I held up my hand to the coach, fingers outstretched,