Page 6 of Rookie Attraction

This is my home.

Or it was.

A week in and it’s more like hell.

My teammates continue to give me the silent treatment, and a select few make underhanded comments anytime I’m near. Things like, “Some people should have their own fucking locker room,” and “I hope queer isn’t catching.” These guys are a tight-knit group, and they’ve closed ranks on me.

When we’re done on the ice and we head back to the locker room, the weird tension grows. I start to undress like everyone else and a sudden hush falls in the room. I pause while I still have most of my gear on, grab my headphones, and sit my ass on the bench with my head down. With trembling hands, it takes me more than ten minutes to undo my skates. My stomach clenches so hard I swear I’m gonna puke all over the floor. I wait, keeping my head down, and my eyes too, until every player heads out and the only sound in the room is the rapid beat of my pulse.

When I’m all alone, I stand up on shaky legs and finally finish undressing. I take the fastest shower in history, worried that one of the guys might come back—more like terrified about what they might say, or worse, do. Fuck, I’m concerned that someone might try to physically attack me, and I can’t even believe thoughts like that are running through my mind.

This scenario goes on for two weeks and every day is worse than the previous. I’m so on edge that I’m throwing up before I leave the house. Every fucking day…

On the ice, things appear almost normal, even though on the bench only a handful of guys talk to me, and then only about the game. Off the ice, I’m ignored by everyone, except for the trainer and the coaching staff. It’s such a switch compared to how things were last season that I’m walking around like a zombie—scared, angry, and hurt—and all I want is to crawl back home and stay there until I wake up from this nightmare. My playing suffers too. I make mistake after mistake and Coach offers me a warning. Several. At this rate, I’m going to get benched before the official season kicks off.

I tell myself to give it more time.

Be patient. Things will work out.

On the last day of the second week, I arrive ahead of everyone else and go to grab a clean jersey from my stall.

Only, it doesn’t look right. When I pull the jersey out, there are splatters of what appears to be red paint covering the black and green material. My name and number are crossed out. Then I notice what’s written on the front—queers don’t EVER belong here—and an image that brings the point home in a violent and disgusting way. I swallow down bitter bile as I throw the jersey in my bag and reach for another. It’s not just my hands shaking, it’s my entire body. My mind’s reeling, and a wave of panic unlike anything I’ve ever felt threatens to consume me.

I’m gonna pass out.

I can’t do this. I can’t do it.

Grabbing my phone, I make a beeline for the bathroom and call my agent.

“I want out of Chicago, Mik. Now.”

“What? Why? I thought things had quieted down.”

“Yeah, so quiet that no one wants to treat me like I’m a goddamn human being,” I hiss. “Sorry to snap, but what the hell? These guys were my friends and now they’re all refusing to talk to me. If they do, it’s only for show in front of the coaching staff. Other than that, the only communication going on is when they say homophobic shit as I walk by. What the fuck’s happening?”

“I’m sorry, Sel. I really am.”

“I need out. It’s making me physically sick every time I get ready to head to the rink. The guys who’ve hung out at my home, and me at theirs… I thought of them as family. Now they hate me. Do you know how that feels? Like I’m invisible. Like I’m nothing.”

Where I’ll end up, I have no idea. And I still have a ton of questions. Are things going to be the same on another team? Or worse? What do I do if no one wants to hire me? Last season, I was riding so high, and now… now I don’t know anything. Except that my gut tells me to go, so my mind’s made up.

“I didn’t realize things were that bad,” Miki sighs.

“I kept thinking it was the shock of the news, and they’d get over it. But I was wrong,” I snap. “I’m being iced out. They’re all acting like I’m a stranger or worse.”

“Your situation sucks, but the timing’s in your favor. I have a suggestion,” Mik starts.

“Anything.”

“New York’s desperate for defensemen. Hudor’s had to leave due to family stuff and he’s moved back to Norway.”

“For good?”

“Yep. And Jadisky busted his knee in August, turns out, he’ll be gone for at least a year.”

New York. It can’t be any worse than here, can it?

“Alright, let’s do it.”