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When the bell rings after math class, Mrs. Gobfrey calls me to her desk. Ethan shoots me a look and shrugs as he packs his books.

"Hey, Mrs. Gobfrey," I say, heading to her desk. She clears her throat as she cleans the white board, her sharp eyes flicking towards me. She's older than most teachers, with short, greying hair, and she always wears a long, dark pencil skirt. 

"Mr. Beckett," she says, setting the eraser down. "I graded your test early." 

"Oh."

She fumbles through the files on her desk, and I stuff my hands in my pockets so I don't crack them anxiously. She hands me my test packet.

I don't know what to say. "I - I got a C!"

"Yes," she says. I feel like she's fighting a smile, but it's hard to tell with this one. "I can tell you've been studying hard. Keep it up."

"Thank you," I say, flipping through my test in awe. Only a few red marks here and there. I got a C! C is average!

~

As I'm walking to the cafeteria, I see Sam leaning against his locker, talking with people I don't know. 

"Sam!" I call. "I got a C!"

He pulls away from his conversation and turns to me. "Hey, Cameron!" he says. "That's great!"

I almost never see Sam at school. We don't have any classes together, obviously. And, thinking about it, we've hardly ever spoken at school. I can't help it now, though. A C, people! In math!

He smiles, shifting the weight of his textbooks in his arms. "Next time, we'll try for a B."

"You might be dreaming a bit there," I say, but I'm smiling too. His friends, a girl with a tight ponytail and glasses and a guy with an afro, are staring at me, and I clear my throat. "Anyway, I'll see you later."

"Bye," Sam says. As I'm walking away, I hear the girl mutter, "He thinks a C is good?"

Oh, ouch. I turn the corner before I hear Sam's reply. I guess I let it go. I stuff my test in my backpack and forget about it. Okay, maybe a C isn't that good. 

~

At practice, Matthew won't stop glaring at me. 

"Hey, I'm sorry about the other day," I say, even though it hurts a little bit to say out loud. But I have to be the bigger man, right? Take the high road, all that stuff.

He sighs, his jaw set. "Yeah, I'm sorry too," he mumbles. "We were both at fault."

"Yeah."

The rest of the practice is a little tense. Our teammates are still mad that we lost the game. But no one is fighting, at least. 

As everyone is heading back to the locker room, Coach stops me. I pull off my helmet and prepare to be yelled at.  

"The local news station asked me if they could interview you," he says. 

Oh. Well, that's not what I was expecting. "Oh."

"I think it would be good. Just a few basic questions about your career, the IIHF, you know."

"I guess so," I say. "Good publicity, right?"

"Sure," Coach says. He studies me, like I'm a kind of puzzle, and I try not to fidget. "Okay, I'll let them know. I think they want to do it tomorrow. It'll be at your house."

"Okay," I say. 

He nods, and that's that. I head to the locker room to change.

~

Mom is freaking out. "They want to interview you here?" She waves her arms around, gesturing to the kitchen. "This house is so tiny! Cameron!"

"Why are you yelling at me? The house is fine. We'll just tidy up a little."

Mom presses her hands to her forehead and closes her eyes, her lips moving silently. Veronica and I glance at each other and try not to laugh.

When she's done praying, I put my hand on the table. "Mom," I say. "It's fine. It'll be good."

"Cameron's gonna be famous!" says Hailey. She's sitting on the floor by Veronica's feet, playing with my old action figures. 

"Lord help us all," says Mom dramatically. She pulls out the tupperware container of leftover salad and shakes her head. "Lord help us all."

"Okay, Ma," I say, trying not to smile. "It'll be okay, I promise."

Veronica rests her head against my shoulder and types rapidly on her phone. Probably texting Paul. Sometimes, I forget he exists. 

"We're all going to clean the house tomorrow," Mom says. Is she still talking about this? "And wear nice clothes. God knows we have nice clothes but never wear them."

"It's just Channel 5 News," I say. "Only people that are 70 or older watch that."

Mom throws her hands in the air. "I watch Channel 5!" 

"Cameron's gonna be famous, Cameron's gonna be famous," Hailey sings, making the action figures dance.

"You're right," says Veronica. I glance at her. She's still looking down on her phone, but I don't like the way she said it. 

"Everyone calm down!" I say, starting to get exasperated. "It's just Channel 5."

"Soon it'll be TSN," says Veronica. I go to my room. But I guess she's right. 


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