seven: "just shut up"

                                    

                                          
I had just finished lacing up my skates for the Iceland game when I heard the locker room door swing open and a strong cologne scent hit me. I crinkled my nose and looked up to see Coach. Except it didn't really look like him. He was in a fancy suit, way too fancy for hockey, and his hair was slicked back with a heavy coat of oil. 
                          
"All right team, are we ready for warmups?"
                          
Averman wasted no time letting Coach know what he thought of the new look. "Nice jacket. Did you get two pairs of pants with that?"
                          
I laughed out loud but quickly covered my mouth when Coach gave me a stern look. Averman walked away and I held out my hand for a subtle high five. 
                          
Next Dean and Fulton took their shot at Coach, asking him about what he did last night and what he had for dessert. I didn't know what they were talking about, but I figured this was a good time to talk to Fulton and straighten out Dean's lies.
                          
Once they stepped away from Coach I pulled Fulton aside and far away from Dean. 
                          
"Uh, hey Bex, what's up?" Fulton glanced behind him and seemed nervous. I couldn't believe that Dean had made Fulton afraid of talking to me. 
                          
"So I don't know what you've heard about me from Dean, but whatever it is, it's not true." Of course, I knew exactly what Dean had told him, but I couldn't really admit that I had been eavesdropping on the two, without sounding like a complete weirdo. "Look, Portman has it out for me and I know he probably told you I was a whore or something."
                          
"Bexley it's not-"
                          
I stopped the boy. "Let me finish, ok?" He nodded and I continued. "Point is, I don't want you to stop being friends with Dean, but just don't believe everything he tells you. You're a really nice guy Fulton and I don't want our chances of being friends ruined by something so stupid and untrue. Just give me a chance? Please?"
                          
Fulton let out a big breath and looked behind me again, probably at Dean. But then a small smile began to show as he nodded. "I think you're a really nice girl, Bexley. Of course, I want to be friends."
                          
"Let's go team, warmups!"
                          
We both turned and I saw a frustrated-looking Coach, walking out of the locker room. Averman was snickering from behind him, probably from making fun of Coach further.
                          
Fulton held out his arm for me and we linked arms as we started to follow Coach. Dean was standing near the bench and had a scowl on his face. As I passed I made sure to stick out my tongue. 
                          
After going through our warmup routine, I skated to the bench, expecting Coach to lead us in our usual chants and get us pumped up for the game. But instead, he just began listing off our starting positions. The team looked around at each other, unsure of what came next.
                          
"What are you guys waiting for, go!" 
                          
We all took off to our positions. I was starting right-center with Jesse at the face-off and Dean on the left-center.  The whistle blew and before I even knew what was happening, the ref blew his whistle again. 
                          
"Come on fool, get up!" Dean was yelling at an Iceland player who laid on the ground. 
                          
Another ref came and took Dean by the arm. He tried to get him off of him and sent the ref tumbling to the ground. I winced. If Dean didn't chill out, this wasn't going to end well.
                          
As I predicted, a third ref called out, "Calm down, son. You're out of the game."
                          
Coach started to loudly protest from the bench and the rest of the team and I groaned. 
                          
"Gimme a break!" I watched as Dean was led off of the ice and threw his stick against the wall. As mad as he made me, we needed Portman. Iceland was tough enough as it was.