Maple Syrup Candies, Tim Hortons' Coffee and an Obscene Amount of Penalty Minutes

With the familiar sound of Spencer’s tower bag echoing in the arena lobby, Ryan walked into the Bulls’ arena lobby with confidence in his step and a hockey stick in his hand. He felt on top of his game. Better than even. The varsity team had a good lineup this year, with the exception of their first line left winger; a one Brendon Urie. But besides that, the team was similar to the Huskies. His right was Alex Greenwald as per usual and they worked together so well from years of practice that they almost made up for Urie’s faults.

Not that he actually had many, which made Ryan furious.

Or normally did. Since Thanksgiving, he and Urie hadn’t spoken much. He would occasionally catch Brendon staring at him hatefully and quickly looking away but unlike before, he never provoked any fights. Maybe the guy was finally growing up.

Or maybe not. Ryan watched disgusted as Urie blew a bubble of gum and let it pop on his face. Brendon caught his look and stared at him impassively until Ryan forced himself to turn away. Angry staring contests with Urie were pointless and immature.

Mr. Saporta and Mr. Beckett were standing by the changeroom door, Mr. Saporta sagging against the wall and Mr. Beckett holding a clipboard. He had his characteristic long hair pulled out of his face by a wool toque, already prepared for the chill of the arena. He was wearing a heavy coat, despite the fact that the ice pads were only a couple degrees below zero. Mr. Saporta on the other hand had only a light jacket, and hadn’t even bothered with gloves, looking more the part of a typical hockey coach.

Mr. Beckett had been coaching the hockey team with Mr. Saporta since Ryan had started playing hockey when he was a niner, but Ryan wasn’t entirely sure that Mr Beckett knew anything about  hockey at all. Or even if he knew how to skate. If Mr. beckett’s slight figure was any indication Ryan would guess that he had never touched a piece of sports equipment in his life.

Mr Saporta on the other hand was at times more enthusiastic about hockey than Ryan’s coach on the Huskies. He had clearly been playing hockey for most of his life although Ryan had never bothered asking the level of hockey he had played. It was Mr Saporta who did most of the coaching, with Mr Beckett occasionally adding words of encouragement and support, and filling out most of the paperwork, even if that was supposed to be the manager’s job.

If anyone was surprised that their manager didn’t fill out paperwork it was because they had never met him before. The only managerial job Jon ever did was carry the water bottles and hockey sticks to the bench. He served more as another coach, strapping on a pair of skates at practices and giving out instructions when needed. He wasn’t a bad skater but his technique was messy and he had none of the finesse that the rep players had.

Jon had been trying out for rep since he was a novice but he had never made the team. He had still tried out for the school varsity team and hadn’t made that either. After Jon had revealed that to him, Ryan wondered how Jon could keep up a jovial attitude towards the sport after being rejected so many times. He had stuck around to be the varsity team’s manager and was at the arena as much as Ryan was with his timekeeping job and playing houseleague hockey.

As Spencer and Ryan dropped their hockey bags on the floor in the changeroom, Jon walked over to them. He’d grabbed the clipboard from Mr. Beckett and tossed it beside Ryan.

“Don’t you need that?” Ryan teased.

Jon blinked, “Nah, it’s just for show. I don’t know what a single one of these sheets of paper are for. Attendance maybe?”

Spencer laughed, “Who needs that anyway? Are you gonna run through the warm up with us?”

Jon’s face lit up at Spencer’s laugh but then fell at the mention of warm up. “I didn’t even make the hockey team, why do I need to do the warm up? This is unfair.”

Spencer patted Jon’s belly fondly, “It’ll be good for you.”

Jon glowered, “Fine. Fine I’ll do the warmup.”

Spencer smiled again and Ryan laughed at the two of them. His skin prickled and he felt as though someone was staring at him but he passed it off as nothing.

When Ryan caught his breath Jon was staring thoughtfully at both Ryan and Spencer.

“I want payback for this, though,” he warned.

“I think I can afford to buy you a new pair of sandals,” Ryan said.

“I’ll take them if you’re offering,” Jon said. “But no. Both of you have to my hockey practice.”

“Like, a houseleague practice?” Spencer said testily.

Jon nodded, “Yeah. It’s pretty laidback compared to your practices and I’m sure nobody would have a problem with fresh blood on the ice.”

“Fresh blood?” Ryan scoffed.

“Yeah man, “Jon said. “Houseleague is rough. It gets pretty intense.”

Ryan did a double-take when he realized how serious Jon was being.

“So? Deal or no deal?” Jon asked.

“Boys! Stop chatting and start warmup!” Mr. Beckett called from his vantage point at the door.

Jon looked meaningfully at Ryan and Spencer.

Spencer chewed his lip and then stuck out his hand, “Okay you got yourself a deal.”

They shook and Ryan grinned. Even if it was just a houseleague practice Ryan was looking forward to hanging out with Jon.

Although Jon and Ryan had only known each other for a month and a half, they got along splendidly. Any apprehension Ryan had towards him butting into his tight-knit duo with Spencer had disappeared into the air and been replaced by a feeling of warmth towards the other boy. He had spent thanksgiving texting him, Z and Tom Oakes, another friend on the hockey team as he avoided his grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles and most importantly, his father.

In the week preceding Thanksgiving, Ryan hadn’t slept much from anxiety about the upcoming weekend and a sense of self-deprecation much stronger than he’d felt in a while. The familiar bouts of winter depression were beginning to weigh more heavily on him, but he was pushing past it as best as he could. This year was important for his hockey career and he didn’t want to let anything ruin his chance in the draft.

But he still couldn’t completely halt the occasional relapse when he was surrounded by things that just brought him down. As he reverted back to his ninth and tenth grade habit of sleeping less than three hours a night, he’d felt guilty and miserable stumbling along the halls in a zombie-like stupor.

Spencer had been mad when he’d walked into school the Monday before Thanksgiving, after he had received a garbled text message the night before at 4am, which Ryan only vaguely remembered sending. Ryan had already started to develop the characteristic bags that had been a permanent facial feature for the last year.

He’d decided to avoid texting Spencer until he got back from thanksgiving just to avoid being chewed out again. He’d texted Tom mainly, as Tom slept just about as little as Ryan did. He had texted Z too, but her family was even more over the top about Thanksgiving than his own.

As his team left the changeroom to run around the arena, Ryan trailed behind Jon and Spencer as they talked amicably despite the running. He focussed on his breathing and his legs, but his thoughts wandered. He didn’t want to think about the miserable fourteen hours he’d spent in the car with his father, to and from Quebec City. Although he hated Urie, his little hissy fit on Twitter had provided a much needed distraction from the clipped French exchanged between him and his father as they drove along the Trans-Canada highway.

Thanksgiving had been just as expected. His older relatives asked about hockey, school and his girlfriend. His grandmother had been disappointed to hear that he and Keltie had broken up, but Ryan had just shrugged it off. Like he would tell his devout Catholic grandmother he’d rather be sucking dick.

His cousins had showed up Saturday afternoon from Montreal after Ryan had spent an excruciating amount of time talking to his grandparents and his matante and mononc’, and pretending his father wasn’t off getting sloshed somewhere. They hadn’t made it better, finding everything to criticize Ryan about from his accent to his clothing and hair as they munched on cookies his grandmother had made. They were loud and arrogant as they chatted about girls, sex and, of course, hockey. Ryan had secluded himself to his phone and his friends at home as he felt more isolated from his cousins than ever before.

The only good thing about his cousins was that they knew where to get alcohol in Quebec, which Ryan regretted when he’d been dragged out to church the next morning. His father never bothered normally, and Ryan wasn’t religious but it was all part of the stupid family tradition Ryan couldn’t wait to get away from when he moved out.

And then Thanksgiving dinner- Ryan shook thoughts of an overturned table, his horrified relatives and his father’s red face out of his head as Urie jogged past him. Ryan had fallen behind Spencer and Jon, who led the pack of teenaged boys up a flight of stairs, although he wasn’t at the back just yet.

He allowed himself the opportunity to check out the others in front of him. As a gay boy surrounded by athletic boys on all sides he might as well take advantage of the situation, he thought sullenly.

He admired their sculpted backs and calves, as their muscles strained and contracted. Jesus, this was ridiculous he’d seen most of these guys naked and wow that thought didn’t improve the situation at all. Goddamn that hockey ass. He even allowed Urie a glance and was actually surprised when he realized Urie had a really nice ass. Wow that was unfair. Bad people didn’t deserve nice asses.

“Hey Ross!” Urie called behind him and Ryan’s eyes were drawn reluctantly away from his backside to his face. “Out of shape or something?”

Ryan didn’t say anything but he increased his pace so that he was running next to the other boy.

Urie huffed loudly at Ryan’s quiet challenge.

“Getting out of breath Urie?” Ryan scolded. “You’ll never make it to the NHL with that kind of stamina.”

Anger gleamed in Urie’s eyes, not wild and bright like usual, but cold and unforgiving. It threw Ryan off balance, not getting the reaction he’d intended, and he let Urie pass him briefly. Urie’s lead didn’t last long though and as Ryan caught up the two sized each other up. Neither were sprinting yet but already they were running faster than was usually recommended for a warmup, passing their teammates and catching up to Spencer and Jon in the front. Several of their teammates stared at them as they passed but nobody made a comment.

Their warmup was almost finished so Ryan made the rash decision to force them both into a sprint. In his head beating Urie was somehow more important than performing well in a varsity season game.

As he and Urie zoomed past Spencer and Jon, Ryan could feel Spencer giving him The Look. Of course Spencer disapproved but admitting defeat and letting Urie win at this point wasn’t worth it. His breathing was coming quicker already.

They rounded the final corner of arena, their feet slamming against the asphalt of the parking lot. Their team had fallen far behind them and were making no attempts to catch up and Ryan didn’t blame them. He was definitely going to regret this during the game. Next to him he could hear Urie’s breath getting ragged and he didn’t feel so bad about it if it meant Urie was going to be exhausted too.

They reached the front door of the arena and both of them slowed to a stop. There had been no discernable winner and two out-of-breath losers.

Ryan bent over, his hands resting on his knees and tried to return his breathing to normal as Urie slumped on the curb in front of the door.

“You’re such a prick Ross,” Brendon wheezed.

“You started it,” Ryan shot back through laboured breaths.

They waited in silence at the door for their bemused teammates to catch up with them. When Spencer jogged over to them he smacked the back of Ryan’s head.

“What did I tell you?” he said angrily.

“I didn’t fight him!” Ryan protested.

“You’re an idiot,” Spencer said plainly, and glared at Urie who was still sitting down.

Jon looked uncomfortably between Spencer, Ryan and Brendon, not wanting to get involved but feeling involved nonetheless. He instead took control of the warmup, leading them all back to the changeroom for stretches.

Soon they were all geared up and ready to go. Mr. Saporta gave them a few words of encouragement and they headed towards the ice pad. Once the zamboni was off, the two school teams shot out on the ice to do their pre-game skate.

When the buzzer sounded, they cleared the pucks off the ice and the team reconvened with the coaches one last time before the game started. Then Ryan took his spot at first line centre with Alex on his right and Urie on his left.

The first period was uneventful, although the other team scored on Spencer when the second line was on. Ryan was determined to not let the team lose because he knew that Spencer would blame himself like he always did. However by the middle of the second half another goal had been scored on them and Ryan was feeling frustrated and antsy. He and Urie just weren’t compatible hockey players and their first line was hardly making any progress against the other team. Exhausting each other right before the game had been a bad plan.

Finally Dan managed to get the puck out of their end and as Alex brought the puck up along beside him Ryan began to feel that familiar rush of excitement. They were gonna score for sure this time.

Alex got cornered by one of the other team’s forwards and he quickly passed the puck to Ryan. Ryan prepared to take the shot as the defenders charged him. Urie was off to his side but Ryan was sure he could get the goal.

He heard a garbled “Ryan!” from Urie’s direction just before the defender checked him. He teetered to the side and tried to regain balance but it was too late. The defender had taken the puck up and Ryan watched numbly as the team scored another goal on Spencer.

It was all his fault.

His coach called his line off the ice and Ryan reluctantly skated to the bench.

He’d barely sat down before Urie started at him.

“What the fuck Ross,” he said angrily. “I was right there, I was open, you were flanked. You should have passed to me.”

“Fuck off,” Ryan spat.

“That goal was your fault, asshole. I could have scored! Why don’t you trust me with the puck?” Urie argued. “I’m on your fucking team!”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Ryan whined.

Urie haughty expression made Ryan lip curl into a snarl.

“That’s so fucking typical, Ross,” Urie said and looked away angrily. “I can’t rely on fags like you two to do anything for this team.” he jerked his shoulder in the direction of Ryan and Alex.

It was like Urie had dropped a bomb. Ryan’s vision turned red and he gritted his teeth against his mouthguard. Like that asshole had any right to speak to him like that. To say shit like that to him as if he owned that word.

“What the fuck did you just call me,” he said, venom dripping from his voice.

Urie looked up quickly, his eyes widening in sudden realization at the comment he had just made. But it was too late. It had been said.

Ryan grabbed Urie’s arm and tossed him off the bench behind them. His equipment protected him but he still swore loudly as he hit the ground. The team and coaching staff sat in frozen shock as Ryan threw himself over the bench after Brendon and the two began struggling against each other amidst shoutings of “Get off me, you crazy asshole!” and “Don’t you ever say that word in my fucking prescence again or you die!”

Referees were blowing whistles but it was Jon and Mr. Saporta who finally got the two separated. Jon was holding Brendon back as Mr. Saporta pulled Ryan off of him. Off to the side Mr. Beckett was watching the scene, clearly terrified.

As Ryan struggled to his feet, around him the gameplay had stopped. The referees had all skated over to the Bull’s bench. Ryan was going to get kicked out for this. He didn’t care.

Mr. Saporta shot him a look that clearly meant ‘Don’t start anything else’ and went over to talk to the referees with Mr. Beckett. Ryan didn’t intend to start anything further though. He’d said what he’d needed to. He’d made his point.

His teachers talked to the center ref for a minute before the ref made the call. Mr. Beckett and Mr. Saporta were in a disagreement about something but Ryan didn’t bother to strain his ears for it. He just wanted to leave.

As he and Urie skated across the ice, the players on the other team laughed.

“Did you forget which player was on your team?” one taunted.

“Thanks for taking out your best players for us!” another called.

Ryan didn’t even bother to engage with them. Urie didn’t either, just slunked after Ryan to the changeroom.

It occurred to Ryan that he’d be alone in the changeroom with Urie. He could have a second go at beating him up. And nobody had to know.

He let that pleasant thought carry him all the way to the changeroom. His bag was on the other side of the room from Urie’s just the way it had been since they’d both made the varsity team. The further away from Urie, the better Ryan’s life was.

He pulled off his jersey, and then worked at getting his neckguard and shoulder pads off. The changeroom was silent in both sound and atmosphere. Ryan could unconsciously feel himself taking lighter breaths of air from heavy tension.

He had to face Urie when he sat down to untie his skates, but he didn’t look at him. He didn’t want to ever have to acknowledge him ever again.

Once he’d gotten his skates off, he heard the sound of skates against rubber, coming towards him. His whole body stiffened in anticipation.

“Ross,” Urie said quietly. Ryan refused to look up.

They waited, neither moving. Ryan stared intently at the floor and willed Urie is walk back to his seat and out of his life forever.

“Ryan,” Brendon said this time and Ryan flinched at the sound of first name being spoken outloud.

He took a deep breath, “Listen Ryan, I’m sorry I said all those things about you. I shouldn’t have.”

Ryan looked up in surprise. The last thing he had expected was an apology.

“I-” Brendon hesitated. “I was just mad and I shouldn’t have called you a fag.”

Brendon looked forlorn and guilty, his face pale. His apology seemed genuine, though Ryan couldn’t imagine what had prompted it.

“Yeah, sure I guess,” Ryan mumbled, unsure of how to respond. Apologies felt like forbidden territory when it came to him and Urie.

Brendon looked hopeful for a second but when Ryan made no move toward further reconciliation he closed himself off again.

“Don’t expect this to happen again, Ross,” he said angrily, and turned away. “I just felt I shouldn’t have said any of that with us being on the same team.”

Ryan felt his anger return. He rose to his feet, his fists clenched.

“Would calling me a fag have been appropriate in another situation?” he said coldly.

Urie paused.

“No,” he said finally. “I shouldn’t have said it at all.”

Ryan’s anger left his body as if he’d just dropped his hockey bag to the floor. He sat down on the bench again to finish taking off his equipment, all the while eyeing Urie warily. It was almost as if the two had come to an understanding, however miniscule. Ryan knew he and Urie would never be friends but maybe they didn’t need to fight all the time anymore. It was a relief.

*      *      *

When Ryan walked into English class the next morning, Urie was already sitting in his seat behind Ryan’s. He looked up when Ryan approached but made no other acknowledgement of the his arrival. It felt calm.

From his desk at the front, Mr. Beckett watched the two carefully. Although there was no friendliness between them, the hostility and aggression was gone.

Spencer walked in shortly after, smiling brightly.

“Good morning!” he said as he sat down.

“What’s up with you?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Spencer said conspiratorially, the cheerful glint in his eye ever present.

Ryan shrugged. If Spencer wanted to be secretive, Ryan wasn’t gonna press him.

The music started playing over the PA and Ryan groaned at Jon’s music pick of the day. Jon had confided in him awhile ago that he was intentionally picking the cringiest songs he could think of. Ryan could appreciate his dedication to the cause even if he didn’t appreciate hearing Everytime We Touch at 8:30 in the morning.

Ryan turned around to look at Urie, who was usually bobbing along to whatever atrocious song Jon had picked that day but even he seemed unhappy with the music choice. The bell rang soon and Ryan was relieved from the torture of listening to German dance music.

Jon’s voice rang out over the announcements, but even if Ryan did consider Jon his friend, he didn’t believe that he had to subject himself to the morning announcements as payment for that friendship. Besides Jon always told him anything that might be important to him in first period anyway.

Mr. Beckett finished the attendance during announcements and called the class to order quickly.

“Since we finished Macbeth yesterday we’re moving on to the first major assignment associated with it,” he said.

The class groaned but Mr. Beckett kept his dignity and ignored them.

“It’s a group project,” he continued. “I’ve picked the groups for you, however we’ll get to that later.”

Another groan. Assigned groups were the worst.

“The project itself is fairly simple,” Mr. Beckett said, handing out rubrics and assignment overviews for each row to pass back. “Your groups will be making a media presentation about either an act or a theme in Macbeth. I’ll let the groups pick what they want to do.”

Ryan sighed. This project was already looking worse than the French presentation he’d had to do with Urie. Media presentations weren’t his forte, he preferred essays and creative writing projects. His mark would rest on the skills of whoever Mr. Beckett chose to put in his group.

Mr. Beckett pulled out a list on his desk and frowned at it, as if he wasn’t totally happy with the groups he was assigning. He began to read them off.

“Group two: Ryan Ross, Spencer Smith, Brendon Urie and Jon Walker.”

Ryan was immediately torn between feeling ecstatic about being in a group with two of his best friends and feeling annoyed at being put in a group with his worst enemy. A look back at Brendon showed a similar reaction on his face to what Ryan imagined his own looked like.

Jon walked into the classroom then, waving to Mr. Beckett as he entered. Mr. Beckett nodded to him and finished reading off the groups.

The he said, “Alright you have the rest of the class to work on the project. We’ll start presentations next Thursday. Disperse.”

Jon yawned, and looked at the papers on his desk, “So what did I miss?”

“We’re doing a Macbeth project together,” Spencer said. “You can read the overview yourself, you know.”

Jon grinned, “Yeah, I could.But you’re gonna explain it to me anyway.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and started telling Jon about the project. Ryan watched as Brendon reached into his bag and pulled out a copy of the Macbeth script. He started flipping through it, and Ryan turned away.

Once Jon was briefed on the project, he took immediate control, aware that they were walking on thin ice with both Ryan and Brendon in the group.

“So I’m a pretty good video editor, and I have a good camera,” he said. “We can film at my house if you guys want.”

“Who said we’re doing a movie?” Ryan asked.

Jon gave him a pointed look, “Ryan we’re making a movie, who makes something other than a movie for a media project?”

Ryan conceded to that.

Brendon decided to speak up, “Can we do Act 2?” he asked. “It’s my favourite.”

“It’s a good act,” Spencer agreed.

“What happens in it again?” Jon asked.

Before Urie could explain, Ryan cut him off, “It’s the one where Macbeth and Lady Macbeth murder the king.”

“Oh yeah. That one.”

Urie glared at Ryan, “Got a problem with my choice?”

“Surprisingly, no. It’s got some good scenes. Someone should tell Mr. Beckett which scene we picked so that we get it before anyone else,” the way Ryan said it made it obvious he wasn’t going to.

Urie grumbled but he stood up and walked over to the teacher’s desk.

Jon, Spencer and Ryan took the opportunity to discuss the situation.

“This is not going to work,” Spencer said firmly. “Ryan and Brendon are going to kill each other.”

Jon shook his head, “Brendon’s a nice guy, I’m sure we can all be friendly.”

Spencer snorted, “Unlikely. They can’t even play nice when they’re on the same team.”

“I’ll play nice if he does,” Ryan amended.

Spencer was incredulous, “If the threat of the ruin of both of your hockey careers isn’t enough to stop you, than I doubt an eleventh grade English assignment will.”

Ryan glanced at Urie who was still talking to Mr. Beckett. Whatever Mr. Beckett was telling Urie was making him fidget more than usual, if that was possible.

“Hockey and school aren’t the same,” Ryan said. “In hockey you’re encouraged to be aggressive. I have no problem with him off ice.”

“Yeah, except that you hate him,” Spencer said.

“Aw man, you don’t hate him do you Ryan?” Jon asked.

“Hate who?” Brendon asked coming up behind Ryan. “Me? Oh, don’t worry about that. Ross hates me like it’s his career.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Jon assured him.

“Yeah, okay Jon,” Spencer said sarcastically.

Ryan groaned, “Can we just get this project done and over with? Did Mr. Beckett say anything useful to you?”

Maybe it was Ryan’s imagination but Brendon’s face flushed, “Um, it was nothing important. Just something else.”

“Alright then,” Ryan said and opened his notebook to a blank page. “We can go over characters and plot stuff in a minute, but we gotta figure out when we can meet to do the filming first.”

Jon put his hands up in mock defense, “Hey, I don’t do anything! It’s your hockey schedules we gotta work around.”

“I can’t do anything on Sundays,” Urie said quietly.

“What, do you have church or something?” Ryan mocked, already writing down characters in his notebook.

Urie scowled, “None of your fucking business, Ross.”

Jon interjected before Ryan could respond, “Okay, so Sunday is out. What other days are you free?”

“Well I don’t want to get up before eleven if I don’t have to,” Spencer said. “So weekend mornings are out.”

“I think we have practice Saturday afternoon anyway,” Ryan said.

“What about Friday?” Jon said desperately.

Ryan and Spencer stared at each other.

“Well, I guess Friday works,” Spencer said regretfully.

“I’m free on Friday too,” Urie said.

“Great, so Friday at my house, right after school,” Jon said.

The other three nodded.

“So I’ll write the script,” Ryan said.

“No way,” Urie jumped in. “I’m writing the script.”

Ryan glared at him, “Aren’t you like, illiterate?”

“Oh ha ha, very funny Ross,” Urie grumbled. “As if I’d ever read a script you wrote ever again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryan shot back. “Got a problem with my writing?”

“Yeah, it’s shit,” Urie said.

“Calm down guys,” Jon mediated. “I have a solution: you both write the script together.”

“No,” Ryan and Urie both responded immediately.

“I said this wasn’t gonna work,” Spencer said, and glanced knowingly at Jon. Jon let out a frustrated sigh.

“Is there a problem, Brendon?” Mr. Beckett called from the front of the class. “Remember what we talked about.”

Urie cringed. “No problem, sir,” he replied stiffly.

“’No problem, sir,’” Ryan mocked quietly.

Spencer elbowed him in the gut while Urie glared at him.

They sat silently as Urie stared guiltily at their teacher, as if deciding what to do.

“Alright,” he said finally. “You can write the script as long as I get to be Lady Macbeth.”

Ryan snorted and pencilled Urie’s name onto the lined paper in front of him.

“No arguments from me,” he said. “Got something you want to tell us, Urie?”

“Ryan, please,” Spencer hissed.

“Only if you go first, Ross,” Urie said sweetly.

“No comment,” Ryan replied. “So Urie tell us; what prompted you to pick the only female character in the whole scene if not the irresistible need to wear a dress?”

Urie took a deep breath, and seemed to be counting before he responded, “Isn’t it obvious? Lady Macbeth is the only character who isn’t a fucking pussy in this scene. She’s the real evil character, you know? She’s not scared like Macbeth, and she doesn’t run away like the Princes and she doesn’t get murdered. She does what she needs to make her husband King.”

Then he grinned, “Plus I’m the only one of us with the hips for it.”

Well, Ryan certainly couldn’t argue with that one after checking out Urie’s ass the day before.

“Well, I don’t want a big speaking role,” Jon said. “I’m happier behind the camera.”

“Yeah, I can’t act for shit,” Spencer added. “So I want a small role too.”

Ryan sighed, “Are you guys seriously making me Macbeth?”

“I’ll play Macbeth too,” Urie said. “But then all the class will just be thinking about the fact that I fucked myself in a dress.”

“Aren’t you witty today?” Ryan sneered. “Won’t they be thinking about the fact that I fucked you in a dress?”

“Well, that’s the idea, isn’t it?” Urie said leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, most people think you’re gay anyway.”

“Brendon, why would people be thinking about you guys having sex anyway?” Jon asked.

“Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are evil right? I just figure evil people have sex a lot,” Urie shrugged. “Like moral depravity and all that.”

“Wow, that’s a big word,” Ryan observed. “Learn that at church too?”

“Oh my god, Ryan,” Spencer interrupted. “Shut the fuck up! What happened to ‘playing nice’?”

Ryan narrowed his eyes, “I remembered how much of a bastard he is.”

“He hasn’t even done anything! He’s just sitting there making bad jokes!” Spencer rubbed his temple. “God, you both give me a headache.”

Jon laughed, “You’re like a mom.”

“I am not!” Spencer protested. “Besides, my children will be way prettier than these two knuckleheads.”

“What a terrible thought,” Urie muttered.

“What, us being related?” Ryan asked.

Urie shuddered, “Yes.”

Ryan was inclined to agree. Seeing Urie because of hockey and school was bad enough. He didn’t want to imagine living with the guy.

Mr. Saporta walked into the room unannounced.

“Bill, do you have a stapler I can borrow? I can’t find mine,” he asked. Ryan couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be looking to where Ryan and Urie were working on the stupid fucking project.

“Yeah, sure, it’s in my office,” Mr. Beckett replied. As the pair left the room, Ryan noticed a stapler on Mr. Beckett’s desk. They’d probably realize and come back for it.

The bell rang and there was still no trace of either. The others prepared to leave.

“Remember, my house on Friday,” Jon said.

“Got it,” Urie said, then swung his backpack over his shoulder and left. Spencer was close behind him.

“Oh, hey Ryan?” Jon said. “You still up for coming to my practice tonight after school?”

“Yeah, of course,” Ryan said. “I just need a ride.”

“No problem,” Jon said. “I’ve got you.”

Ryan smiled, “See you later then.”

“Yeah!” Jon grinned. “Hey Spencer, wait for me!”

He dashed off after Spencer and out of the classroom. Ryan pulled out his notebook for Writer’s Craft and waited excitedly for the rest of the day.

It passed by quickly and despite being loaded down with homework, Ryan still got on the bus with a light step and a feeling of anticipation. Nobody was home when he got there, but someone rarely was, so Ryan dumped his books on the chesterfield and started to peruse them lazily.  

An hour later, Ryan heard his doorbell ring and smiled. It was probably Jon and Spencer there to pick him up for the houseleague practice they had agreed to attend.

He stood up off of his couch and walked to the door, swinging it open to reveal a distraught looking Jon Walker, hockey bag slung over his shoulder. Spencer wasn’t there. Why wasn’t Spencer there?

“Hey Jon!” Ryan smiled, trying to be as kind as possible because it was a rare occasion to see the king of love and happiness himself look so upset.

“Hey,” he replied quietly. This was weird.

“I just gotta grab my hockey equipment, come in if you want,” Ryan said. Jon dropped his hockey bag on the porch, then walked through the doorstep and kicked off his shoes. Ryan walked over to his garage door and pulled it open.

“Hey, is it okay if I sit here?” he heard Jon ask from what sounded like the living room.

“Go ahead,” Ryan replied. He really wondered why Jon was being so weird. He especially wondered if it had something to do with Spencer’s absence.

Ryan pulled his hockey bag out of the garage and threw it into his mudroom. Luckily for him, Jon’s houseleague arena was only a few minutes of a walk from his house, so he could definitely handle the trek with his bag.

“Is Spencer meeting us there?” Ryan called out. Jon said something but it was muffled, and he couldn’t hear it.

Ryan walked into the minimally decorated living room to find Jon absentmindedly typing something on his phone.

“What?” Ryan asked for clarification.

“Spencer’s not coming,” Jon sighed. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, whoa, what do you mean Spencer’s not coming? That bastard roped me into this!” Ryan tried to joke with Jon, but he still looked crestfallen.

“He’s not coming,” Jon repeated, and stood up off of the couch.

“Well, why the fuck not?” Ryan asked. He would probably kill Spencer later. Probably.

“His new girlfriend is more important than his friends, apparently,” Jon replied, looking anywhere but Ryan’s face.

Spencer had a girlfriend? What the fuck? Ryan and Spencer had been best friends since they were eight; there was no way in hell that Spencer wouldn’t tell him something like that.

“Wait, what?” Ryan asked. He was completely baffled as to why Spencer wouldn’t have shared news like that with him.

“Spencer and Linda are on a date right now. He didn’t tell me until like, five minutes before he was supposed to pick me up,” Jon said, beginning to walk back to the front door.

“He never told me that he and Linda had started dating,” Ryan thought aloud. Jon stopped and turned around.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself,” Jon snapped. Ryan wasn’t used to Jon acting like this at all. “He didn’t tell me until he needed to cancel on me.”

The two froze for a moment.

“Can we just go? Please?” Jon broke the silence. Ryan nodded and walked to pick up his hockey bag.

The walk to the arena wasn’t long, but it was certainly cold. Ryan tried to distract Jon by talking about other things. He felt pretty shitty himself about the whole Spencer-Linda situation, but Jon was obviously much more affected.

He knew Jon was from Boston, so he tried bringing up the Bruins. Jon smiled and the two had a conversation about how each of their respective teams were playing that season. Ryan was a die-hard Canadiens fan, which made for an interesting conversation with a Bruins fan. He could only imagine how Jon managed to carry on a civil conversation with Spencer, a diehard Leafs fan.

When they got to the arena, Ryan definitely remembered it from when he had been a young child. This was where he played Timbits.

“Look familiar?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Ryan replied in question.

“We were on the same Timbits team,” Jon smiled, walking towards the board that had all of the dressing room numbers on it. Ryan didn’t remember ever being on a hockey team with Jon, but hey, if they were, that was cool.

As he followed Jon into the dressing room, he tried to keep his mood up but the old arena just brought memories of a much happier version of himself and the mischievous grin of a dark haired boy.