There’s so much more to that question and Mason knows it. Reg had his best game in regionals—two assists and three goals. The Riviere Rockets won because of Reg. Even though Mason has thought of little else since the team meeting this past Friday, he struggles. He’s walked the tightrope for so long, trying to balance between living up to his father’s expectations and his own moral code.

Mason glances out Principal McNeil’s window. He’s fully exposed.

“Reg was the one who vandalized the lockers,” Mason finally says. “And though I could have withheld this information until after the state championship tournament, I realized hockey can’t outweigh integrity. Reg has done and said despicable things.” Mason sits up a little straighter. “You said the recording was fake. I sent it anonymously because I was afraid. I’m still afraid of the consequences, but I’m willing to live with them.”

“Coach Hayes will not be pleased.”

Mason gives Principal McNeil a firm, succinct nod. His chest feels tight. “If you want to tell my dad your source, that’s up to you. I’ve given you the proof. Now you get to decide what to do about it. You want to wait until after the tournament, that’s up to you, too. I’ve done what I needed to and I can live with my conscience.”

Chapter 63: Cade

I push open the door of the boys’ locker room, step into the hallway, and find Logan waiting to walk with me to History of World Governments. Her face lights up, sunshine in a forest of gloom. We decided to give Mr. Bartley a chance and attend class today. Does he deserve our trust? We’ll find out.

“Hi.” The smile slips from her face. “Blair sent us a text wishing us luck.” Logan rubs the silver bracelet her cousin gave her for her last birthday like it’s a good-luck charm.

“We’re going to need it,” I mutter. I glance around. Practically every wall has signs congratulating the Riviere Rockets hockey team on winning regionals and cheering them on for the state tournament.

Forget hockey. All I can think about is the disappointment on Nana’s face when I told her the debate was still on. Logan’s voice is quiet. “We don’t have to go to this.”

I stop, take her wrist, and move to the side of the hallway. I drop her hand and return mine to the safety of my pockets. Right now, I’m really tempted to smash the trophy case. Unfortunately, that won’t stop the debate. “I don’t want to do this, but I’m going to. Not for you, but for me and for us. We’re finishing this. But I reserve the right to walk out at any time.”

“You walk. I walk. And vice versa.” Her fierce, steady gaze is the reassurance I only now realize I’ve needed.