Change of Heart (4 page)

“You can put it in her mailbox,” she said, putting one hand over the phone's mouthpiece and waving at the door that led to the copy room where the teachers' mailboxes were. She went back to her phone call.

I pushed open the door, startling the room's only occupant. Aaron Arthurs was standing at the photocopier. He spun around when I walked in.

“What are you doing in here?” he said.

“I'm dropping off something,” I said, not that it was any of his business. “Your mom said it was okay.” I scanned the mailboxes for Ms. Carver's name. “What are you doing?”

He gave me a look like he thought I was brain-dead for asking. He was making a copy—obviously. I could see some sheets in the photocopier's output tray and tried to see what they were. Aaron stepped in front of it, blocking my view. Whatever. I found Ms Carver's mailbox and slipped Billy's essay into it.

Then I went to his house and rang the doorbell, but no one answered. I tried to call Billy. Still no answer. I slid his assignments through the mail slot and went home.

Billy wasn't making things easy on himself. He was standing outside school when I got off the bus the next morning. His hair was disheveled. His eyes were swollen and bruised. The rest of his face was pale. He looked like he'd been up all night.

“Did you get the homework assignments I left you?” I said.

He didn't even look at me. Instead, he looked up the street. I was willing to bet he was watching for Morgan.

“Billy—” I touched his arm.

Then, boom, just like that, Sean appeared. He grabbed Billy and spun him around.

“Stay away from her, you got that?” he said. “Stay away from her and stay away from me.”

Billy just stared at him. Colin stood beside Sean, ready to back him up—not that Sean needed backup. Like Sean, Colin also played hockey, but everyone said he wasn't as good. I'd heard that he'd suffered a couple of concussions on the ice. He hadn't graduated yet, even though he was older than Sean.

“You hear me?” Sean said. He had the front of Billy's jacket bunched up in his fists while he talked. Kids passing us on the way into school stopped to watch what was going on. “Do you hear what I'm telling you?”

“Leave him alone,” I said to Sean. Okay, so maybe he was Morgan's boyfriend and maybe Morgan was one of my best friends, but so was Billy—even if he was acting like a lunatic.

“This creep is stalking my girlfriend,” Sean said, barely glancing at me. Billy flinched at the accusation.

“He spied on her while she was at my house last night,” he said. He turned to Billy. “I know you were there. There were footprints outside the den window. You were watching us, and then you followed her home. Right, Colin?” Colin nodded. “Colin saw you watching us,” Sean said. “He followed you.”

I glanced at Billy. His face turned red.

“Stay away from Morgan and stay away from me,” Sean said again, “or you'll be sorry. I know where you live, Royal.” He shoved Billy backward and then stalked off. Colin followed him. The kids who had been watching and listening all stared at Billy. But when nothing else happened, they quickly lost interest.

“Is it true, Billy?” I said when we were alone again. “Were you spying on Morgan and Sean?”

Billy's nod was almost imperceptible.

I sighed. “Go home, Billy, before you get into any more trouble.”

I didn't go into the school until he turned and walked away.

“Come to the game tonight,” Morgan said when she found me at my locker a few minutes later. Her perkiness told me that she hadn't heard about what had just happened, and I didn't want to be the one to tell her.

“I don't know,” I said.

“We'll all go out afterwards. I want you to get to know Sean. You'll like him. I know you will.”

After what I had just witnessed, I wasn't so sure.

“I have a ton of homework,” I said. It happened to be true. But mostly I felt it would be disloyal to Billy.

“This is important to me, Robyn,” Morgan said. “I like him, and you're my best friend. Please?”

“Well—”

Morgan beamed. “I'll meet you at the arena at eight o'clock. We'll have great seats. It'll be fun. You'll see.”

She was wrong. It turned out to be no fun at all.

N

ot only was Sean captain of the hottest hockey team in his league, he was also the league's leading scorer. Morgan told me that he had already been scouted by several colleges. Apparently the word among hockey fans was that Sean was destined for the big leagues. So it came as no surprise, as the regional playoffs began, that the arena was jammed.

Morgan had told me to meet her at the team entrance at the back of the arena. As I rounded the corner of the building, I spotted Sean talking to a girl who had her back to me.

“Come on, Sean,” she was saying. “I made a pitch and they loved it. I told them you agreed. I said it was a go.”

“That's not my problem, Tamara,” Sean said.

Tamara Sanders, Sean's ex-girlfriend.

“But this is important to me,” Tamara said. “And the exposure would be great for you. Give me a break. If I have to tell them you've pulled out, I'm going to look like an idiot.”

“So?” Sean said. “That's your problem. And after what you did—”

“Come on, Sean. I said I was sorry. And you promised.”

“Things have changed.” Sean pushed open the door and went inside. Tamara scowled when she saw me.

“What are you staring at?” she said. She stormed past me, muttering under her breath, and almost collided with Morgan, who'd come around the corner looking for me. Morgan smiled smugly like the victor she considered herself to be.

“What was she doing here?” she asked.

“She was talking to Sean about something.”

That wiped the smile off Morgan's face. “About what?”

“I think it was something about that documentary you said she wants to do on Sean.”

“And?”

“And nothing. Sean told her he wasn't interested.”

Morgan perked up when she heard that.

“Good,” she said. “Come on.” She pushed open the team entrance. We stepped inside and were immediately blocked by a grizzled old man wearing khaki work pants and a heavy plaid shirt.

“This door is for players only,” he began. Then he squinted at Morgan. “Oh, it's you.” He broke into an appreciative smile—Morgan has that effect on guys, even old ones.

“Hi, Wayne,” Morgan said breezily. “This is my friend Robyn.”

Wayne nodded curtly at me.

“The guys are in the locker room, and that's off-limits,” she said as she led me down a long corridor. “We'll catch up with Sean after the game. I can't wait to introduce you.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement. I remembered when her eyes used to sparkle like that at the thought of seeing Billy, and I felt sorry for him all over again.

I hadn't been inside the arena since elementary school, when I had taken skating lessons. The place sure looked different now. It was cleaner, less run-down. And it looked as if more improvements were planned. Scaffolding and construction materials were piled along one of the outer walls. But the people bustling in, pulling off hats and scarves and gloves, didn't seem to care. Morgan was right about how good our seats were. We were in the first row, right near the center. Colin and Kevin Sloane had the seats next to us.

While we waited for the game to begin, Morgan talked nonstop about Sean—how much fun he was, what a great hockey player he was, how smart he was, how his mom insisted that he keep up his grades in addition to playing hockey.

“That's why he's planning on going to college, even though he's good enough to go pro,” Morgan said with obvious approval. “His mom made him promise that he would get an education. She doesn't want him to be another dumb jock with nothing to fall back on if hockey doesn't work out for him.”

I glanced at Sean's brothers. Colin was still trying to get enough credits to graduate. And Morgan had told me that Kevin had barely made it through high school. He was an assistant coach with a junior hockey team and worked part-time as a mechanic. They must have heard what Morgan said—quiet was not Morgan's style—but neither of them appeared to take any offense.

Morgan jumped to her feet and cheered when Sean and his team skated onto the ice. She waved at him, but he didn't wave back. He was too busy fussing with his helmet.

“If you ask me, someone's trying to sabotage the game,” Kevin Sloane muttered.

“What do you mean?” Morgan said, alarmed.

“Sean's helmet is missing. He looked everywhere for it.”

“What's wrong with the one he has on now?” Morgan said.

“It's not his, that's what's wrong with it. You can see he doesn't like it. A guy needs his own gear. You hand someone a piece of replacement equipment right before a game and it can throw him off. Someone stole Sean's helmet. Someone's trying to sabotage the game by sabotaging Sean.”

The players took their positions on the ice. The referee dropped the puck, and the game started. And you know what? It turns out that even if you're not a hockey enthusiast—and I'm not—it's still exciting to be sitting up close and personal in an arena packed with diehard fans who are screaming for their team in a play-off game. Even I could see how good Sean was. He seemed to be wherever the puck was a split second before it got there. Of course, that meant he was constantly dogged, blocked, and checked by the players on the opposing team. But by the end of the first period the score was 2–0 for Sean's team, and Sean had scored both goals.

When the period ended, he yanked off his helmet. He looked angry. Colin and Kevin both muttered under their breath.

Sean thrust the helmet at the referee. The ref handed it back. He and Sean got into an argument. Sean's coach intervened, and Sean said something to him. The coach spoke to yet another guy, who then made his way toward the locker room. The ref crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for something. He was looking directly at Sean. Sean scowled at the replacement helmet. He didn't want to put it back on, but the ref was insisting. Sean finally relented and went back out onto the ice.

Morgan whistled and waved to him. When Sean spotted her, his whole face changed. He smiled at her and blew her a kiss. As he did, I saw his eyes move around the arena, as if he were looking for someone else. I followed his gaze and spotted Tamara holding a microphone out to the coach of the other team. There was a cameraman nearby, focusing his lens on her. He seemed to be taking direction from a preppy-looking guy standing behind Tamara. But instead of paying attention to what the coach was saying into the microphone, Tamara was staring sullenly across the ice at Sean. He gave her a defiant look before skating back to join his teammates.

They listened in for whatever their coach was telling them. Player number 24, who was standing beside Sean, nudged Sean and said something to him. Sean said something back. Number 24 did not look pleased.