Read Online Winter Hawk Star by Sigmund Brouwer - Free Book Online Page B

“You’re going to cut me from the team, aren’t you?”
    He slammed his fist on his desk. He half stood. He yelled down on me, “Listen to your tone of voice! You don’t even care!”
    â€œThat’s not true,” I said. “But—”
    â€œDon’t tell me you care! Look at you! Sitting there like we were discussing the weather. You’re accepting whatever happens! Like if I cut you from the team after two years, it’s no big deal!”
    He pounded his fist again. “Where’s your fire, Watson? What’s it going to take to get you to do more than wear the team jacket?”
    He repeated himself, spitting the words at me, “Where is your inner fire?”
    Coach Estleman sat back down and found his breath. He stared at me until I looked away. When he spoke again, he had himself under control.
    â€œDo you think it was an accident that I paired you with Riley Judd? Sure I wanted you to help make him a team player. I didn’t lie about that. But I was also hoping some of his fire would rub off on you. I was hopingyou’d get mad enough and jealous enough of someone like him to actually play the way I know you can.”
    He snorted. “Hmmph. It’s more like you managed to tie him to the same piano you drag around on the ice during hockey games.”
    Coach Estleman got up and started pacing around the office. He spoke more to himself than to me. “I’ve got Riley Judd, a million-dollar player who’s starting to play like a ten-dollar player. And I’ve got you, a ten-dollar player who doesn’t know he can play like a million-dollar player. Maybe my mother was right; I should have gone into pro wrestling.”
    He continued to shake his head and grumble beneath his breath as he paced.
    â€œI don’t want to get cut,” I said to his back.
    He whirled and glared at me.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œI don’t want to get cut.”
    He moved directly in front of me, crossed his arms and stared down at me.
    â€œI can’t quite hear you, Watson.”
    â€œI don’t want to get cut.” I kept my voice even.
    â€œLouder. You sound like a ballerina.”
    â€œI don’t want to get cut.”
    â€œShout it!”
    I stood and stared right back into his eyes. “I am not going to play your dumb army-sergeant game. I will not shout like this is some kind of pep rally. But I will tell you this again: I want to play.”
    He grinned. “Finally, I see some fire in your eyes. You’ve got two more weeks, Watson. Show that fire on the ice, and you’ll stay on the team.”
    I did not grin in return. My teeth remained gritted.
    â€œWe have a light skate in forty-five minutes,” he said. “You’d better get moving. And tonight, play hard.”
    I did not move.
    He arched his eyebrows in surprise. “Yes, Tyler? Anything else?”
    â€œCoach,” I said, “it’s about the piano you blamed me for tying to Riley Judd.”
    â€œThis ought to be interesting,” Coach Estleman said.
    â€œYou know how sometimes players are tested for drugs?”
    His face grew dark. “Drugs? Is Riley Judd into drugs?”
    â€œNothing like that,” I said quickly. “I’m just hoping you know which doctor to call for drug testing.”
    â€œWhat exactly do you want to test?” he asked. He was frowning.
    â€œThis,” I said. I leaned forward and pulled a water bottle out of my gym bag. “It looks and tastes like Kool-Aid, but I think it’s a little stronger than the regular stuff.”

chapter fourteen
    A cut requiring five stitches definitely hurts. But it didn’t hurt near as much as the smirk on Coach Estleman’s face.
    â€œYup, five stitches, Coach,” Scotty, our trainer said again, “maybe six. That flying puck cut him good.”
    Less than a minute earlier, I had been standing in front of the Medicine Hat