Blood spills on the ice.
If Marcus didn't say it, it wouldn't have happened.
It was a late practice extending overtime. Coach Ransier was talking about the provincials that were set for next month. It was an important game where older athletes welcomed us into their open arms. If I got into provincials, I could recognize myself as a talented athlete and maybe get a job. It was a usual practical until Marcus whispered in my ears. I got so blinded that nothing else mattered at that moment. The nurse ran on the ice and the entire team had to break us off.
Marcus stares up at me, holding the ice pack over his bloody nose. Even the tissues that they brought can't stop the blood. Looking at him now gives me a short-lived relief.
As they take me off the ice, the girls on the podiums stare at me. Eyes wide and gasps escaping them. Their scared eyes say what their voices can't.
The coach doesn't send me to the office right away. It would look bad for the school. So I'm forced to watch the team lose without me.
The posters on the walls and the bland walls of the school office laugh at me. I wait there for what seems like hours. Then, finally, the doors open. A red-haired, tall man walks out with a briefcase. His suit gives off the impression that this is probably one of the many business deals. The principal comes out next, shaking the man's hand. Sending him off securing the bag. He shoots me an exasperated look when he sees me.
"Troy, you're here again, come on in."
I shuffle past him towards the red, leather seats. The phone buzzes in my pocket and lights up with a time that would send my mother into a frenzy. But with her boyfriend there with her, she won't even notice I'm gone.
"You were in another fight." Mr. Rancier states, as he circles around his desk. "Even after I told you this will lower your chance of getting into Eastdale."
Oh yes. The only dream that I care about. But even Eastdale won't accept a loser like me.
"It was your father's last wish, was it not?" Not a question, but a statement.
I shrug. But inside, the anger is coming back. Who told him he could talk about my dad?
He looks at me with tired eyes. "This only works if you help me out, people are already getting suspicious."
"I never asked for special treatment."
"This could have been very serious, you could have gone to the police like...", He trails off.
I cross my arms. "What?"
"Never mind, If it weren't for your spotless grades, then this wouldn't be the case."
It doesn't matter what I say or do. He always lets me go, saying it's because of my grades. But the real reason is the school's image of helping the minority kids. The kid with the tragic past and the unlikely talent of hockey.
He kicks me out, telling me to go straight home. The stars are shining brightly, but I can't see anything as I walk through the dark alleyway. In the end, I see a silver metal flash. A harsh force shoves me against the hard wall.
I can recognize that baseball cap anywhere. "You got me suspended for three days, and you know what that means...". Marcus hisses in my ears.
I groan as he pushes down the silver blade on my leg. My eyes feel those prickly tears rising. The pain just feels numb.
"You can't believe that you'd actually meet provincials when I'm right here."
The sharp edge of the bottom of his boots pushed my head back. I can feel the wound forming and taste the blood.
"I was right,' They all laugh as they hold me down. "he's even stupider than his dead dad."
"He's the one that hung himself, right." One of them whispers.
Another punch, this one knocking my breath away. "They're all the same; drunk, dead, and live off the reserves."
Then fingers are tightly holding my chin, and dark memories threaten to resurface from this action.
"Someone like you will never make provincials."
I let out a hoarse laugh. Looking up at him with hooded eyes, "But we both know that I'll be the one sitting there with that interview at the end of the month."
Another punch hits me on my jaw, sending my head flying backwards. "You're not the one to talk to right now."
"We should drown him in the lake right now, but that's too much to do for a loser like him ."
They nod, laughing. They open up cans of booze, and maybe I would have been happy if I wasn't the centrepiece. They punch me until I can only feel the pounding of my head. My head hangs limply, facing the ground. They get tired of hitting, and with a final shove, they let me go. I still look up, to catch their sweaty hair and amused smirks under the moonlight.
A/N: What did you guys think? any comments, suggestions, ideas?
Has anyone ever seen anything like this before? It always seemed really far-fetched as a child to me, something that only happened in movies. But I've witnessed something like this in middle school. I actually got my inspiration from that incident, it's really scarred me but I'm curious about your stories if you feel comfortable sharing :)