Page 3 of On His Schedule
“You’re not even a senior in normal terms,” Blue says. He’s at the kitchen counter standing up, eating cereal directly out of a plastic container because we haven’t done dishes since last week. His hair is wet, which means he’s been at the rink. He goes to the rink at 5 a.m. every single day of his life. When I asked him why, he has never given me a real answer.
“I am spiritually a senior.”
“You’re spiritually a freshman,” Percy says, from the dining table. Percy doesn’t look up from his book when he says this. He’s the kind of man who says about one thing per day and then closes for business. The book in his hands is in French. The cover has a sad-looking man on it.
“Et tu, Deveroux,” Stanley says, and clutches his chest with the banana. “Et fuckin’ tu.”
“I’m just saying,” Rowan continues, like nobody else is talking, “you’re proposing we legislate the human heart, and I’m—”
“My dick,” Stanley says matter-of-factly.
The room pauses.
“Mydick,” Stanley repeats, “is doing too much of the talking lately. And I am a man. I’m self-aware, and I’m acknowledgingthis. As your captain — sorry, Reeve, I’m acknowledging this as a natural-born leader — I am proposing we, as a unit, take feelings off the table for the fucking year.”
“You are not the captain,” I say, dropping my bag by the door. “I am the captain.”
“Reeve!” He turns to me, banana raised. “Reeve, thank God. Tell them.”
“Tell them what?”
“The number one Hawthorne House rule. No falling in love before the draft. Senior year is sacred. Hockey and bros only.”
“I just got told by Coach that if I don’t have a tutor by Friday, I’m sitting the home opener,” I say, peeling off my hoodie and tossing it on the back of the couch, “so honestly, no falling in love is the easiest rule I’ve ever agreed to in my life.”
Stanley points at me with the banana. “See,” he says. “See.The captain agrees. It’s a rule.”
Blue scoffs, “It’s been a rule for years, man. What’s your point here?”
Stanley says, “We make sure we fucking stick to it!”
Percy says, “It sounds like someone’s not sticking to it.”
Stan points at him. “No, it’s the start of the semester. Let’s not fuck it up with distractions.”
“Pussy is a distraction now?” Rowan asks.
“Loveis,” Stanley deadpans. “Aren’t you listening to me?”
Blue and Rowan laugh. “Not really.”
“It’s already a house rule,” Percy says, finally setting his book face-down on the table, “so why are you bringing it up?”
“You know what’s not a problem?” Stan asks. “Hockey. Hockey doesn’t text you back weird. Hockey doesn’t ask you what you’re thinking. Hockey doesn’t hand you a fucking Spotify Wrapped at the end of the year and—”
“Where is this coming from?” Rowan asks.
“It’s not coming from anywhere.”
Rowan shrugs, not about to let this go. “It’s coming from somewhere.”
“It’s coming,” Stanley says, pivoting smoothly, “fromstrategy.It’s coming from the fact that we have one shot. Three of us — me, you, Reeve — get drafted in seven months. Percy and Blue have one more year after this, but they’re in it, too, philosophically. And I am telling you, as someone who has watched too many great men get hockey-disrupted by some girl with—” he gestures vaguely at the air, “a personality— that we have to lock in.”
“You are describing a normal woman,” Rowan says.
“I am describing amenace.”
“Show of hands,” Blue says, from the counter, deadpan.
