A face from the past
1063 Words
(Chase)
I was trying my best to stay focused during practice, but I couldn't. My mind constantly went to the girl I met at the arena. I was trying to figure out where I had seen her before, but it seemed like my brain was too foggy.
I skidded to a stop before I could bump into Peter; he gave me a look, probably wondering what the heck was wrong with me.
"Chase, keep your head in the game!" Coach Miller shouted, getting fed up with the way that I was playing.
After an hour of training, it was over. I breathed a sigh of relief as I skated towards the bench and sat down. "Chase I want to talk to you." I groaned when Coach Miller called my name again. I know that I didn't play well today, but he didn't have to call me out for it.
Brad looked at me like he was telling me that I was in trouble. I rolled my eyes and took off my skates, then made my way over to the coach. "What's going on?" I asked. I cringed, knowing that he was about to give me another one of those long lectures when things weren't working out the way that he wanted.
"Your footwork is sloppy, Chase," Coach Miller said, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked me dead in the eye. "You were two beats behind the entire drill and nearly wiped out Peter and others twice."
I clenched my jaw and looked at the ground. I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to hear it, especially not now when my mind was already running wild.
"What's going on with you?" he asked, the harshness in his voice gone. "You don’t look like yourself out there. Your head’s somewhere else, and that’s not gonna cut it if you want to make it to regionals."
I sighed and ran a hand through my damp hair, still catching my breath. "I’m just... distracted, I guess. I’ll get it together."
"‘Just distracted’ doesn’t excuse half assing it on the ice." He pointed toward the rink like it had just betrayed him. "You’ve got talent, Chase. Raw, solid talent. But talent doesn’t mean squat if you don’t focus. This isn’t a one-man show. When you slack, the whole team feels it."
"I know," I muttered, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up my neck.
"Do you?" He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Because that didn’t look like someone who knew. That looked like someone who didn’t care."
That hurt. I did care. Too much, maybe. I wanted to tell him that I couldn’t stop thinking about her. That girl I met. Her face kept flashing through my mind.
There was something familiar about her, something I couldn’t get rid of. But how could I explain that without sounding like a complete i***t?
"I’ll do better," I finally said, trying to sound confident, even though I didn’t feel it.
"You better." The coach said, his voice still firm. "I’m giving you one more shot tomorrow. Show me that your head's in the game or I’m benching you."
"Plus we have a new hockey agent that's coming to watch the game next Tuesday. You have to be ready." Yeah, I remembered hearing talks about that. Frost Ridge was getting a new hockey agent. Someone who would make or break you.
"I'll be ready by then I promise. If you don't mind me asking, who is this person?" Coach Miller gave me a look like he was saying that I didn't have the right to question him.
But then he sighed. "Kendall James. The same girl you and your friends tormented three years ago. Because of that, she lost her chance to play again. She could have lost the weight and tried again, but instead, you all made her life a living hell."
My heart started beating fast as I recalled what we did. I won a bet and I had every right to act the way that I did. Who would want to date a loser like that?
I wonder if she was back for revenge. She's the one who's going to hold the cards after all. I don't care, though; she deserved everything that happened to her and then some. "Is she still fat?" I asked, but Coach Miller snapped and clapped me hard on the back of my neck.
"Shut up, Chase, and leave. Talking about someone's weight like that, what’s wrong with you?"
I flinched, rubbing the spot. "Okay, okay!" I muttered, turning and walking off.
I sat down on the locker room bench, trying to cool off, but I kept on thinking about what he said.
Kendall James? No way. That name hit me like a punch to the gut.
It had to be her.
The girl at the arena. The one I couldn’t stop thinking about. The one who seemed familiar but I couldn’t place. Damn. It was her.
She didn’t look anything like she used to. She had changed. A lot. And I didn’t recognize her because, honestly, I didn’t care back then. She was just a target. A joke. I didn’t even know her favorite color, let alone how she felt when we laughed at her and humiliated her, which was fun.
And now she’s the hockey agent. She’s the one holding my future in her hands.
My chest tightened.
Was she back for revenge? Was she here to ruin me, just like we ruined her?
But... the way she looked at me at the arena. It didn’t seem like hate. It was more like curiosity. Maybe even something else. Or maybe I imagined that part. I don't know.
All I know is, I actually like her now. I like the way she talks and the way she carries herself. And yeah, I was a jerk back then. A complete jerk. But I’m not the same guy. At least, I don’t want to be.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees.
If she was here to destroy me, I couldn’t really blame her.
But I wasn’t gonna let that happen.
Not because of hockey.
Because I want her now. And I’m gonna try, really try, to make her mine.
I don’t care what it takes.
Even if it means proving I’m not that guy anymore.
- Writer
