Narrative

Top left, this one will rip through the net, I just know it. Wrong again, as yet another shot flies far left, nowhere near the goal. It was my stick, the tape messed me up. Next time that puck will sink top left, I think as I retrieve the two pucks in the net, and 13 scattered far from it.

“Just keep trying, James, you’ll get it soon enough,” yells coach, better known as dad, as he enters the rink. He doesn’t know though, that I’ve been here for two hours every day for the past month and a half trying to improve my shot. “I know dad, and I’m staring down the varsity roster this year, I think it’s yelling out my name.” “You just keep doing your best, okay?” He replies, encouragingly. John was on varsity as a freshman. Of course, he’s in the pros now, and I’m stuck here lacking a brother. I remember when we were kids, he taught me how to skate, how to put on pads, the whole 9 yards. but somewhere along the way, he also taught me the hard work ethic I try so hard to achieve. This seems to be working in school, but not where I need it to. I need it in hockey.

The drive home was mostly silent, other than the faint hum of the broken radio in my dad’s rickety old pickup. He broke the silence with a question I had heard one too many times in my three years in high school, “Hows school going?” “Good,” I lazily replied.

The truth is, things were great. Academic wise, at least. Straight A’s in all AP classes won’t make you the most popular guy in school though. Not at South high, leastways. The friends that I do associate myself with suit my style though, and as far as sports, well, to say they are substandard would be an understatement. There is my best friend Alex, who’s mom died in a car accident when he was 7, and I’ve known him since kindergarten. Next theres John, who is in most all of my classes. Last, theres Amir. He’s not the smartest, but he knows how to have a good time.

Many of my peers wonder how I manage all AP classes, and I tell them hard work and determination. However, this is a question I often ask myself, and I struggle to find the thing I tell my peers true, as cliché as it sounds. Mom says I get it from dad, him being a former pro hockey player and all.

“What colleges are you looking at so far, James?” Asked Mr. Williams, my AP english teacher, whom I consider a close acquaintance. I was looking for his usual lighthearted chuckle, but today was silence. He was serious. This is a topic I’ve been dreading for months, and I knew sooner or later I had to face the music. “Well, I’m waiting for a hockey scholarship to UWV, I applied there this summer,” “Don’t get your hopes up, James, you never know what will happen. Why aren’t you applying to an ivy league school for academics? A scholarship there would be easier for you.” “Just you wait Mr. Williams. John has been telling me about sticking to my dreams, just like hims. Someday I’ll be a pro. My parents have brought up college many times at the dinner table, but I quickly change the subject and avoid the topic all together. My parents want me to pursue an ivy league college as well, but I want to pursue my real dream. They tell me I have a gift in academics and I have a lot of doors I can open in life if I pursue it. They don’t understand, they’ll never understand. I’ve had this dream my whole life, following in the footsteps of John. Great news today, John has some time in the offseason before the season stars, and he’s coming to visit this weekend! I need to ask him the secret to his killer slap shot, or his moves that stun the goalie every time.