The next morning, I received a text from Coach Stone. It asked me to meet him in his office during lunch period. The text didn't mention why Coach wanted to see me, but I assumed it had something to do with the fight in last night's game.

I found Coach Stone sitting in his office, leaning comfortably in his chair as he read the school paper. Maybe a recap of last night's game. I wondered if it mentioned my performance. The two goals, of course. Not the fight.

I knocked twice on the door, and that got his attention. Coach Stone looked up, set aside his paper and motioned for me to enter.

His office was typical of any workspace. A long mahogany table sat in the center of the room, with various items covering its surface. I could see Coach's clipboard, buried underneath a neat pile of notes. Besides these items were two framed photos: one of his family on vacation, the other from our first championship victory two years ago. My beaming smile was at the front and center of that photo.

"Take a seat, Caleb." Coach Stone gestured towards the two guest chairs and I took one. "Do you know why I asked for you today?"

"My fight last night?"

"I'll be straightforward with you, Caleb. I was not pleased with that. You've been in the league for what, four years now? You know the rules. Fighting is strictly prohibited. That scrap made you look bad; it made the team look bad."

"He threw the first punch." Coach Stone still didn't get it. I should not be at fault for protecting myself.

"I know he did. It was a cheap shot, but it wasn't unwarranted. You were taunting him the entire game."

I didn't respond. Coach's comment caught me by surprise. I didn't think he noticed my mind games. After all, I kept each interaction short and my voice low.

Thankfully, Coach moved on from that subject. "How long have I coached you for, Caleb?"

"This would be our fourth year."

"Four years. In these four years, you went from talented rookie to arguably the best hockey player on the team."

Arguably? I was the best player on the team since my first game. Although I wisely kept my mouth shut, it would have been difficult for Coach Stone to argue otherwise had I brought it up.

I led the league in all major offensive categories over the past three years. Goals, assists, shots. Even penalties. My offensive numbers smashed records left and right. Rookie records. Playoff records. Career records. I was voted as the most valuable player in the league for all three season. There was no denying it; I was a star.

"Thanks, Coach."

"But raw talent will only get you so far in hockey." Again with the Jekyll and Hyde routine. I could never receive a straight compliment from him. "You'll need a positive attitude to succeed."

I had a positive attitude. I was positive that I was the best hockey player in the league.

"There are certain things that I expect from my players, especially veterans like you. Discipline. Teamwork. Leadership. Caleb, I haven't seen any of these from you."

My discipline and teamwork skills definitely weren't the strongest, but depending on how leadership was defined, I was pretty strong in that department. I mean, I did lead our team to back to back city championships.

"I'll work on it, Coach." Not really, but the priority here was to get Coach off my case. I didn't need another lecture during my lunch break.

No luck.

"I have been patient with your development, Caleb. Too patient, perhaps. I thought that more playing time would be beneficial for you. It would showcase your talents, and the extra game time would help mature your decision making abilities. It did not. At least not the latter."

"I'll work on it, Coach."

"If you tried half as hard to be a team player as you tried to get on the other team's nerves, you would be a spectacular player." Coach cleared his throat. "Listen, Caleb, I think that you need some time to cool your head and think things over."

"What does that mean?" I narrowed my eyes. I didn't like where this conversation was heading.

"I'm suspending you for the rest of the season."

"Why?"

"The answer is simple. Hockey is a team game. I need team players, not individual superstars. With twenty players on the roster, I need everyone to be on the same page. Right now, I only have nineteen. I appreciate everything you do for this team, but there's more to hockey than goals."

Yes, there were also assists.

I knew what Coach Stone was referring to, but I didn't believe in it. This wasn't the army. Discipline wasn't everything. Winning was.

"We're in the playoff race, Coach. We need every win we can get, and honestly, the team needs me to win."

Coach exhaled sharply. "Caleb, you're not getting it. We play as a unit. One player doesn't make or break the team."

"Well, the stats clearly indicate otherwise!"

My frustration got the better of me. The season was winding down and I needed every chance I could get to showcase my skills. The professional draft was coming up. My fame and fortune was on the line. The higher I went in the draft, the more guaranteed money I would receive. I wasn't about to lose out on hundreds of thousands of dollars because my coach didn't think I was a team player.

That outburst took Coach Stone by surprise. He leaned back in his chair, momentarily silenced, before he came to a conclusion.

"I stand by my decision. You're sitting out indefinitely, until I see improvements. You're more than welcome to attend practice as usual. In fact, I encourage you to do so. That will be my way of evaluating your progress. Once I see sufficient improvements, you'll be penciled in for the next game. I'm looking for one thing: can you be a team player?"

"I can be a team leader," I promised.

"Not what I'm asking for, Caleb. I'll see you on Monday for practice." With that, Coach Stone picked up his paper, indicating the end of our conversation.

I wanted to plead my case, but I knew that Coach Stone wasn't going to change his mind. Coach was actually suspending me for being the star player, a role that I had taken on since I was playing Mini-Mite teams at five years old. In other words, Coach wanted me to stop doing something I had done for over a decade.

I got up from my chair slowly, still stunned at the announcement, and made my way to the door. As soon as I walked through the door into the hallway, the full impact of the situation hit me, and my shock turned into anger.

With a vicious slam, I swung Coach Stone's door shut. The frame rattled and the wood looked like it was about to fall apart. That was just the start.

A garbage can stood at the end of the hallway. Momentarily. Shoelace to the metal and the garbage can went rolling down the hall, leaving behind a trail of assorted trash on the floor.

By the time I returned to the hallways of Oakcrest, my anger was at an all time high. It must have showed on my face, because people took one glance and hurried out of my path. I wasn't a pleasant person to deal with when I was angry.

There weren't many people who could handle my temper, but there was one. Nick. My wingman. The Pippen to my Jordan. The Gronkowski to my Brady. The Messier to my Gretzky.

Nick's voice came over the phone after the first ring. "Hey, Caleb. I've been meaning to call you. There's something I want to talk to you about."

"What is it?"

"Not right now. Madison is nearby. Let's meet at Sebastian Joe's after school?"

Nick and I weren't ice cream people by any means, but ever since he started dating Madison, Sebastian Joe's Ice Cream became our designated hangout spot.

"Sure. I'll see you then."

***

The outside view of Sebastian Joe's on Franklin Avenue had not changed in years. Part of a building that housed a law office, a barbershop and a dry cleaners, the ice cream shop was not easy to spot at first glance. However, with the name Sebastian Joe's written in bright red letters on the window, it was hard to make the same mistake twice.

I walked in and spotted Nick at one of the tables along the wall. There were a few other customers, but the place wasn't overly busy. Like any other ice cream shop, most customers left when they received their treat.

"Hey, Caleb." Mike, the manager, called out when he noticed me. "What can I get for you today?"

"A scoop of raspberry chocolate chip. On waffle cone, please."

"Coming right up!"

There was something to be said about family owned businesses. Owners seemed to care more about maintaining customer relationships. Mike had been running the place since we made Sebastian Joe's our hangout spot, and like the seven signature flavors, his friendly face was always present in the shop.

Mike handed me the cone, and I paid for my order, before joining Nick at his table. I noticed that there was an empty bowl on front of him.

"Pavarotti?" I asked.

"Always."

Nick was a man of simple tastes. He wasn't against trying new things, but he liked to fall back on reliable options. Pavarotti was an example of that. Every second visit, Nick would get the combination of caramel, bananas and vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips. Said it was the best flavor he had ever tried.

Nick started as I worked away at my ice cream. "I'll talk about my stuff later, but first, what's happening on your end? You're not the type to call for no reason."

I broke the news to him. "Coach asked me to see him today. He told me that I was suspended indefinitely for not being a team player."

"You're joking, right?" I shook my head. Nick realized this was serious and exhaled loudly. "In the middle of the season?"

"That's what I told him! The team needs me to stay competitive."

Nick looked at me for a second but didn't say anything to that. Instead, he asked, "So what do you have to do to get back on the team?"

"I have to prove that I'm a team player."

"How?"

"I don't know." It was such a vague task. I didn't know where to start.

Nick kept to himself for a moment, trying to work out a solution to my problem. He was the brains of our friendship. There were countless times when he bailed me out of difficult situations.

This one was no different. "Well, Coach suspended you for the games, but not for practices, right?"

"Yeah, he still wants me to come to practice."

"Then just show up and put in extra effort. Pass where you would normally shoot, block a few shots and interact with the other guys. That should be enough to satisfy Coach."

That concept sounded about as foreign as the Russian alphabet. "Nick, you know that's not my style."

"It's just for practice," Nick reminded me. "You know this one isn't about you. It's about Coach Stone. He's the one deciding your fate for the rest of the season."

"I'll think about it. Thanks, buddy."

Nick waved it off. "Don't sweat it."

My anger had faded and the subject no longer interested me. I was thinking about changing the subject when I suddenly remembered something.

"Wasn't there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yeah, about that . . . " Nick's voice trailed off and I had a sneaking suspicion that I wasn't going to like what was about to come out of his mouth.

"Just tell me."

"Madison is mad at you."

I rolled my eyes. "Tell me something new. Your girlfriend is always mad at me. What's the problem this time?"

"You ruined her best friend's work. Jennifer put a lot of effort into her manuscript."

I tried to recall when this incident happened, but the event escaped my memory. Who was Jennifer?

"Sorry, not registering. Who is this mysterious best friend and when did I ruin her manuscript?"

"Jennifer Beckett?" Nick prodded, but a last name wasn't going to help my case. There were hundreds of students at Oakcrest - probably a dozen Jennifers - and I didn't bother to learn everyone's last names. "She's a drama student. Big fan of literature. You know anything about literature?"

"Shakespeare?" Everyone knew Shakespeare. We studied his plays since freshman year. Romeo and Juliet. Hamlet. Another play about murder. Something else on Italians and Jews. English wasn't my favorite subject, and Shakespeare was one reason why. "I don't know why you're asking, Nick. It's not like you're any better than me."

"Wrong." Nick made a buzzer sound. "Studying with Madison really helped me improve in English. Ever heard of Austen? Dickens? Wilde? Tolstoy?"

"Show off," I scoffed. It sounded impressive, but I was pretty sure Nick made up a few names. One of them sounded like a body part. He definitely slipped Toy Story in at the end. "What does literature have to do with me?"

"Well, Jennifer is on the drama team. She's actually in charge of the upcoming production. Last night, she was working on the manuscript when Madison dragged her to the game-"

"-the crazy chick who was staring at me?" I couldn't help but interrupt.

"Excuse me?"

"I remember now!" The events from last night came back to my memory. I had just opened the door to leave the arena when I noticed a cute brunette in my path. She seemed decent at first glance, but when she wouldn't stop staring at me, I felt weirded out and quickly walked away. There were too many psychopaths out and about these days.

I recounted my side of the story to Nick and he nodded as he listened. "That was Jennifer, alright. What you didn't realize was that you trampled all over her manuscript as you were leaving."

"Oops." I didn't feel particularly sorry, but I felt like it was the right response for the situation.

"I'm salvaging the manuscript right now," Nick commented. "Some of the words disappeared under your footprint, but I can guess a word here and there to piece out the missing contents."

"Good. Problem solved." I leaned back in my chair and took a few lazy licks out of my ice cream.

"Not so fast, Caleb. You owe Jennifer an apology."

"Sorry," I apologized to no one in particular.

"You have to be more sincere than that." Nick was being surprisingly persistent over this topic.

I looked around dramatically, first to my left then to my right. "Well, she isn't here so this is the best I can do in limited circumstances."

A sneaky grin formed on Nick's face. The sneaking suspicion that Nick plotted something I wasn't going to like returned. Something was definitely up.

"I took care of that problem for you, so there's no more limited circumstances for you."

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

"Madison and I are going to the movies this Saturday. I took the liberty to extend an invitation to Jennifer. She accepted and will be joining us at the movies."

I thought about what Nick was saying. "Okay, but what does that have to do with me?"

"You'll be at the movies too," Nick announced, a smug smile all over his face.

Suddenly, I had the urge to slap that smile off of his face. I was all too familiar with this routine. For the past year and a half, Nick had been actively playing the wingman role, even when I specifically told him not to. I wasn't in a hurry to get back in a relationship, given how the last one played out.

"No, I'm not." Every one of Nick's setup dates had gone horrendously wrong, and there was no reason to believe that this one wouldn't follow the same path either. Especially since I started off on the wrong foot.

"You will be at the movies," Nick repeated, this time with more emphasis. "I'll knock you out and drag you there if I have to."

"Why are you setting me up with another stranger?" To be fair, all of Nick's previous setups were with Oakcrest students, but I knew next to nothing about them, so they were essentially strangers to me.

"Jennifer is not a stranger. She is Madison's best friend."

"That's even worse!"

"They might be best friends, but they are two distinctly different people," Nick noted.

I clapped with mock enthusiasm. "Thank goodness for that. Wouldn't want to deal with two Big Reds."

Nick frowned. He hated my nickname for Madison. "Don't call her that."

I laughed. Nick was level headed for the most part, but the slightest comment about Madison put him in defense mode. He was definitely whipped. I bet Gordon Ramsay could make a meringue out of him.

"Anyway, I'm not going to the movie," I decided.

"You need to move on from Brittany."

The memories came rushing back like waves along the shore. Brittany was my first and last serious girlfriend. We dated for about a year and a half before she left me. She said that things weren't working out and we would be better off as friends.

That was just over a year ago. Since then, I didn't have another serious relationship. A few flings here and there, but nothing that lasted longer than a month.

I groaned. "You just had to go there."

"I'm serious. You can't wait indefinitely for a girl who hasn't even talked to you in months."

A year and two months, to be exact. Apparently Brittany's definition of friends was to cut all communications after breaking up. No calls, no text, and not a word in person. Absolute silence.

Nick pressed on. "Trust me, Caleb. Brittany isn't right for you. I told you that when you began dating her. Jennifer will be different. I can guarantee it."

"Of course she will," I scoffed. "Jennifer isn't winning any basketball MVPs any time soon."

"Just give her a chance." Nick sounded almost exhausted at this point.

I finally caved in. "Fine. I'll be there on Saturday."

"Thanks, Caleb."

I held up a hand, like I was asking a question in class. "I just have one request."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

As soon as Nick mentioned movies, there was something I had to make sure was noted. With two girls in our party, and Nick hanging on Madison's every word, I knew I had to make my voice heard. Didn't guarantee any changes, but any chance was better than none.

"No chick flicks."