The Sound of Ice

The biting chill of the locker room clung to Cameron Beckett, mirroring the knot in his stomach. Coach Davies, a human storm cloud, paced before him, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the concrete floor.
"Beckett, are you listening to me?"
Cameron forced his eyes up, past the gleaming row of navy lockers, to Coach's face, twisted into that familiar, hated frown of disappointment. It was the face that meant trouble, the face that threatened the one thing Cameron cared about.
"Yeah, Coach."
"You can't let your grades slip like this. Being a good hockey player means nothing if you're failing out of high school."
Cameron bristled. "I'm not failing—"
"Really?"
"Just that one class—"
Coach pulled at his tie, a red and blue knot of St. Anne Lions pride. "What class is it, math?"
"Yes. Pre-calculus."
"Find a tutor. Immediately. Or you're benched tomorrow." The words hung in the cold air, a dire prophecy. Cameron swallowed, the metallic taste of fear coating his tongue. Benched. The thought was a searing pain. He had to find a tutor, and fast.
