Adam's POV:

Reaching the end of my math assignment, I glanced up at the window to see a squirrel, an acorn in it's mouth, scurrying across a tree branch. From inside, the bright sunshine made it seem warm outside, but having convinced my mom to let me go get the mail earlier, I knew the cold temperatures were still lingering.

Though my mom had asked the school for my assignments for the whole week, I was hoping to go back before then. I knew now what the doctor had meant by going back to school if I felt up to it. I had gotten up yesterday morning with the intention of going to school. After climbing out of bed, and slowly getting ready for school, I was more than ready to climb right back in the bed. My mother had looked relived when I had told her I wanted to stay home.

As Dad was still away on his business trip, Charlie and Fulton had dropped by with my school assignments and hung around for a while. As Dad was expected back this afternoon, I knew visits from my friends were going to be coming to a stop. That only strengthened my resolve to return to school the next day, sore ribs and all.

The sound of the front door opening drifted up from downstairs. Not long after, I could hear my mom's voice followed by my father's. The fact that I couldn't make out the words was a good sign - it meant they weren't yelling at each other. At least not yet.

Standing slowly, I grabbed the novel we were reading in English class and headed for my bed, intending to rest and read until dinner. Settling on the bed, I opened the novel to where I had last left off. I had only gotten a page further when my father came into my room.

"I heard you've been taking it easy the last couple of days," my father said, as I lowered my novel. "How do you expect to get better just lying around?"

"I plan on going to school tomorrow," I replied, lowering the book. I wasn't about to try arguing with him that the doctor had told me to take it easy. I knew my father wouldn't care about that. The only thing that mattered to him was that I was missing ice time.

"You need to work hard so that the coach has no choice but to put you into the game. The more you're in the game the greater your chances of getting noticed by a scout."

The first time I had heard those words, they had been directed to my brother. It wasn't long before I was hearing the same thing. In my Dad's way of thinking, the scouts' held the key to my future. If I couldn't attract their attention, then I wouldn't have the opportunity to go pro. There was a time when I could truly say that playing professional hockey was my dream. I wasn't so sure about that now. Did I still really want to play professional hockey when I graduated high school or was it now simply the only way I knew to make my father proud of me?

It wasn't something I wanted to dwell on right now.

"Good," my father replied, seeming happy about my answer. "The sooner you get up and moving around the quicker you'll be back on the ice."

I nodded in acknowledgment of his words, not really believing them myself. Still, an argument with my father was the last thing I wanted. "How was your business trip?" I asked instead, hoping to direct the conversation away from me.

"Productive," was my father's reply. "Though we didn't make as much headway in the negotiation process as I would have liked. I'll probably fly back out to New York at the beginning of next week for another session."

I nodded, trying not to show the relief I felt at the prospect of my father being away again. It was just that things around the house seemed less tense when he was away. Not to mention, I'd be able to spend more time with my friends with my father away on business now that I knew my mother was inclined to let me see them when Dad wasn't around.

"I expect to see you at the diner table," my father added.

"Yes, sir," I replied, not bothering to tell him that I had already planned on coming down for diner just like I had the day before.

As my father turned and left the room, I lifted the book, intending to go back to reading it. I just couldn't concentrate on the words though. Instead, my mind was replaying the short exchange I'd just had with my father. It didn't escape me that he hadn't even bothered to ask me how I was feeling. His whole focus had been on me getting better so that I could get back to hockey. It made me feel like that if I wasn't good in hockey, if I didn't make it to the pro level, then I was a failure in his eyes.

Just once, I wished my father would say that he was proud of me without it being in reference to hockey. To know that he loved me and not just the idea of having a son who was a professional hockey player.

With a slow sigh, I closed the book and tossed it onto the bed beside me. Leaning my head back against the headboard, I shut my eyes. Suddenly, I wasn't so keen on leaving my room for dinner. As much as I had started hating the four walls that surrounded me over the last few days, I suddenly didn't want to leave their safety.

Shane's POV:

Finishing with my shower, I went back to the now empty locker room. The rest of my teammates had already showered and left following the long practice we'd had. I was later than the rest of them because Alex and I had worked on some passing drills after Reilly had dismissed us. While it was just the two of us on the ice, I had once again considered confiding in her about McGill's plan. The secret was weighing heavy on me, but I still wasn't sure who to go to about it. I knew I needed to tell someone though because the last thing I wanted was for Adam to get hurt again and feel responsible for it. I knew that if I didn't say anything to anyone, than if anything happened to Adam I was just as guilty as if I had gone along with the whole scheme.

What I was really hoping for was that McGill and the others would just let the whole thing drop. Why couldn't they just accept Adam back onto the team? Why did some stupid imaginary line matter when it came to friendships?

I knew that it shouldn't. My parents had always told me that just because we were better off financially than other folks that it didn't make us any better than them. They had also told me that some people did believe things liked that mattered. I knew Adam's father thought like that as did the McGill's. It was the whole reason McGill hated the Ducks as much as he did.

I might not share McGill's values, but I knew by going along to fit in didn't make me any better than him.

Still, the prospect of not having any friends at all was something I didn't think I could face.

As I got dressed though, I soon realized that I wasn't alone in the locker room after all. I soon recognized the voices of McGill, Foote and Murphy. As they seemed to be keeping their voices down, I couldn't make out what was being said. Given the fact that the locker room, whether there were three of us or the whole team, wasn't exactly known for being a quiet place, I had a feeling they didn't want their conversation overheard.

I quietly finished getting dressed and closed my locker with as little noise as possible. Pausing a moment, I could still hear the low buzz of my teammates voices. They apparently still didn't realize there was someone else in the locker room. Hoping to keep it that way, I picked up my bag and started quietly for the exit.

My path toward the exit brought me closer to where my teammates were talking and before long I could make out what was being said.

"I don't even want him coming back for another practice," McGill was saying. Even without the name I knew the 'him' he was referring to was Adam.

"I thought the plan was to make it look like the injury was an accident during practice," Foote replied. I thought I heard a note of hesitancy in his voice but it could've been just wishful thinking on my part.

"Yeah, well that was before," McGill countered.

"I'm not doing anything at school," Murphy chimed in. "My dad will kill me if I get in trouble at school again."

"Fine. So we find a way to get him alone outside of both school and practice."

"He still goes to the pond to skate sometimes," Foote chimed in. "Chances are, he'll be skating there before he comes back to practice."

Reaching the door, I pulled it open as quietly as possible and slipped out of the locker room. Instead of letting the door shut on it's own, I eased it shut. My teammates probably thought they were alone in the locker room and the last thing I wanted was for them to know I had overheard their plans. Since the time after try outs, when McGill had tried to include me, none of them had spoken about Adam within my hearing. I had already been warned not to speak about what I already knew. Would McGill take it further than a simple warning if he knew I had overheard them?

It was a question that I didn't want an answer to. The one thing I did know was that McGill wasn't the kind of person, or friend, that I really wanted to be around. I guess I had started to see that last year when Adam had been forced to join the Ducks. It wasn't like that move had been Adam's choice. Put in his position, any of us would have probably done the same thing - skate with the Ducks rather than give up hockey. McGill however had chosen to see that as a betrayal and in turn, see Adam as the enemy.

Not that I thought I was really any better than McGill on that account. Just because I hadn't gone along with Reilly's plan to take Adam out of last year's championship game didn't change the fact that I had turned my back on him before that. I had gone along with McGill's plans to make school somewhere Adam hadn't wanted to be. I had turned my back on a friend simply to keep from being a target myself.

It wasn't a decision I was exactly proud of. I was ashamed that I hadn't been the friend Adam had needed last year which was why I kept my distance now. I knew of no apology that would fix anything.

That didn't mean I should stand idly by now, even if that meant crossing McGill. I'd rather have no friends at all than to see him hurt Adam again.

As I made my way to the front entrance of the hockey arena, I knew I had to tell someone about not only what I had just overheard but also what I had been asked to participate in at the beginning of the season. I wasn't sure who though. Who could I tell that would not only believe me but whom I could also count on to take action.

Walking through the front door, I saw Alex approaching her father's car and an idea hit me. Mr. Paris was on the Pee Wee Hockey League board of directors. As I doubted Coach Reilly would care about what McGill was planning, if he wasn't behind it that is, and the Ducks coach probably wouldn't believe me, Mr. Paris was probably my best bet.

Quickening my pace, I hurried toward the car.

"Hey Shane," Mr. Paris greeted me as he shut the trunk of the car after storing Alex's hockey gear there. "Do you need a ride home?"

"No, sir. My Dad should be here soon," I replied. As my father came straight from work when he picked me up from practice, it wasn't unusual for him to be running a little late. "I did need to talk to you about something though," I told him nervously.

"What about?" Mr. Paris asked, stepping up onto the curb and leaning against the passenger side of the car to face me.

From the front passenger's seat, I felt Alex's eyes on me. I knew she wasn't going to be too thrilled with the fact that I had kept quiet this long. I couldn't help but wonder if this was going to cost me the only friend I seemed to have left.

"It's about something I overheard some of the guy's on the team talking about," I started hesitantly, glancing over my shoulder at the entrance to the ice arena. The last thing I wanted to do was get caught by McGill, Foote or Murphy in the middle of tattling on them.

"Have you talked to Coach Reilly about this yet?"

I shook my head. "I don't think he would do anything about it," I replied, keeping the speculation about him possibly being behind it to myself. It was an accusation I wasn't prepared to make.

Mr. Paris frowned down at me. I wasn't sure if the reaction was because of my response or disapproval of Coach Reilly himself. I knew things were already tense between Reilly and the Paris family simply because of Reilly's stance about girls playing hockey.

Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all?

It was too late for that now though. "It's about Adam?" I added quickly, as my father's car pulled into the parking lot. I knew I was quickly running out of time but I wasn't even sure how to explain the situation yet.

I heard voices behind me and glanced over my shoulder again to see McGill and Murphy exiting the arena. If they figured out what I was talking to Mr. Paris about I knew school was going to be the last place I wanted to be at tomorrow.

"Hey Ed," I heard Mr. Paris say, drawing my attention away from my teammates. "I know it's last minute, but if you don't mind, how about letting Shane join us for dinner tonight. He and Alex have a test coming up that they wanted to study for tonight. I'll drop him off at your house afterwards."

I looked toward my father, who was standing behind the open door of his car. My father shrugged his shoulders.

"It's okay with me. I definitely don't want to stand in the way of any academic endeavors, especially when Shane usually seems more interested in his video games than his homework."

I looked down at the ground, a bit embarrassed. Getting lost in video games had been a problem for me in the past, which was why my parents instituted the no video games until homework was completed rule at my house.

"Seeing as I'm already here, I'll take your hockey gear home for you, Shane," my father said, moving to open the back door.

Heading toward the car, I handed my hockey bag and stick to my father, who put it in the car.

"Thanks for letting me go, Dad," I said, as if it had been something we had actually planned and not something Mr. Paris had come up with on the spot.

"It's fine. Your mother was actually starting to worry something was wrong because you haven't been hanging out with your friends as much lately."

I shrugged my shoulders again. "I guess the school work is keeping me busier this year," I offered. It wasn't a lie exactly. We did have more homework this year but that wasn't what was keeping me around the house. A lot of my homework was getting done in study hall. What was keeping me around the house was the fact that hanging out with McGill and the others wasn't as appealing as it once had, and I was probably the last one that Adam wanted to spend time with.

"Well, behave yourself tonight and make sure you get some studying."

"We will, Dad," I promised, figuring that spending some time reviewing for the history test Friday would cover that promise.

As my father got into his car, I walked back toward Mr. Paris' car..

"We'll talk at the house," Mr. Paris promised me, as he held the door for me.

I nodded in response to the statement knowing that since I had broached the subject there was no way to back out now. At least I had some time to figure out how I was going to tell Mr. Paris what was going on.