A Villain Is a Hero In Their Own Story

- Chapter 1

I made it into the Manchester Storm academy. I waited so long, and now, at the age of nine, I am fully able to say I am a player of the England junior ice hockey league.

The biggest day of my life so far, the biggest achievement, the happiest, most hard earned moment. Yet the spotlight that I was supposed to shine under, that I was supposed to smile the biggest smile I’ve ever worn under, wasn’t mine for more than two people to see.

Maybe my achievement isn’t that big of a deal to anyone because I have a star junior hockey player for a big brother.

There is a party at our house, not for my first ever game in the England hockey league. But because Oliver has scored his fortieth goal in the league, being playing for two years.

For a minute I wish Ollie would just disappear. Just leave. Because as long as he is here, my achievement will never be big enough.

I catch him glancing towards me every other minute. When he does his smile disappears. Then he came to me. He put his hand, much bigger and heavier than mine, on my shoulder and says:

“I’m so proud of you Vin” with a smile.

Then he looks around and thinks.

“Vincent played his first league game today!” he shouts into the living room. Very unusual, he has never shouted when the living room is full of guests.

“Oh wow Vinny” mum’s sister says kindly with a polite smile.

Dad claps and without anything else the muffled echoes of chatter resume.

I can see Ollie in deep thought for a minute, but he taps my back and walks away.

Then I did the most childish thing to do. I began crying. Quite loudly. Ollie tries to comfort me and even gives me a chocolate from his snack stash.

He promised me he would buy me a present for my achievement.

I like Ollie. But I don't like everyone who ignored my achievement, covered it up with Ollie’s.

But after I cried loudly, everyone seemed to be so proud of my achievement. Everyone congratulated and celebrated me so much.

Is this how you gain attention?

- Chapter 2: Seven Years Later

The team was celebrating in the locker room. The game ended six minutes ago, our team has won the second game in a row. My fellow teammate but a guy I would trade for a pen cap; Cade Lane, was being celebrated as he scored his first ever hat trick. Three goals in a row scored by the same player.

The room was exploding with noise, everyone was cheering for him. The crowd on the stands outside hadn’t quieted down yet either.

We exited the rink after about fifteen minutes, all damp from sweat after a three hour game under layers of padded protective gear. With our hockey bags almost as tall as ourselves hanging from our shoulders, we came out to the chilling cold of Manchester, there was a slight sprinkle of rain.

The car park was glossy and shined reflecting street lights on it. I saw Cade a few meters ahead of me at my right.

His younger sister Constance widely known as “Cons” was running up to him.

I watched carefully because I knew what’s coming, and I’m ready to comment on it.

She did exactly what I thought she would: she ran right up to him and hugged him, smiling broadly, like a child.

As he laughed and hugged her back, I felt the same unbearability I always felt. I always felt when I saw him happy. When I saw him being appreciated.

“Aawwww” I mocked in the most childish baby voice I could create of my actual deep voice. “She's so pwoud of her big bwother”

Cade turned around. The only good thing I can say about that girl is that she has incredible death stares. Much like her brother, but never would I ever admit Cade had a good death stare.

They both ignored me and walked to the other end of the car park.

I used to feel a small sting of guilt after I bullied someone. But I don’t feel it anymore. I’ve become immune to it.

What I do still feel, and felt again at this moment, was the feeling I felt the day I played my first game in the junior England ice hockey league. The feeling that made me cry loudly on the day I made the biggest achievement of my life.

Neglect. Ignorance.

- Chapter 3

I shouted insults at him as we sat on the bench, off our shifts as the game was at high stakes in front of us. Our team was losing. Because Cade failed to score a goal with the easiest shot. The goalie wasn’t even in front of the net. Yet he missed the net as he shot for a goal.

“Go home Cade!” I yelled at him as he skated to the bench to change shifts. “Go home to have your little baby sister cry on your shoulder after her pony’s pink ribbons fell out of its tail! That’s where you belong!”

He pretended he didn’t realize.

Our teammate Connor Lee nudged my arm to shush me.

“You may be one of the best players on the team” I said firmly to Cade, “but you only got there because of pure luck. Pure luck! You hear that!” I barked at him pointing my finger at him.

As he always did, he stared standing straight at me, without blinking. His expression was flat as if he was merely having to watch a boring show. As always, my inability to make him wince makes me angrier and I try harder.

“That shot could’ve won us the game!” I shouted angrily “their goalie wasn’t even at the net!” my voice grew louder. “NOT EVEN AT THE NET YOU STUPID-” I pursed my lips to stop myself from saying something nasty.

“Enough Vincent!” three of our players on the bench exclaimed at the same time. Cade simply took his seat at the bench calmly.

I wanted to smash my stick as I bent forward with my elbows on my knees. Such a simple goal that he lost the team!

But the game went on and soon we were in the last few minutes of the third and final period. Sweat dewed on my forehead, I gasped for breath as I skated onto the ice for my shift, forty seconds left of the period.

The puck went back and forth, being shot from one player to the other. And then I had it, the clock ticking with only ten seconds left.

I saw an opening. I squinted, focusing on my goal. Then I slashed my stick at the ice, sending the puck soaring into the air. The goalie jumped in his attempt to block it. It went over his right shoulder, narrowly missing his head and into the net.

I skated past behind the net, throwing my arms up and punching the air as the goal horn sounded across the rink. My teammates on the ice gathered around me and we were in one big huddle celebrating, the crowd roaring at the top of their lungs.

There was another playoff yet to happen, with three seconds still left of the period.

Three seconds wasn’t nearly enough time to score a goal. We had basically won, it was just too early to say so.

I exited the ice onto the bench, new players of our team skated out and the two centers hunched over the middle point of the rink, to shoot at the puck when the referee dropped it.

The ref held out his arm over the hunched centers, the puck grasped in his hand. Our hearts were beating with sweat dripping down the sides of our foreheads.

He let go of his grasp on the puck. I could see it falling down to the ice before both centers attacked, trying to shoot it. Just as our opponent team’s center shot it to his right, his teammate taking the pass, the horn went off. The crowd, on its feet, loudest it had been the entire game.

Manchester Storm’s U18 team spilled out on the ice. celebrating at the top of our lungs with our arms above our heads, to our third win in a row.

The commotion was blinding and deafening, the adrenalin was uncontrollable and my smile made my cheek muscles ache.

Before we lined up for the post-game hand shake, when both teams skated past each other in a line shaking hands with every opponent player, all of my teammates congratulated me. I had scored the last goal of the game, catching the win.

I felt taps on my shoulder, my helmet, my arms. I couldn’t even keep track of who was saying what and who was congratulating me, then who, who’s next.

“Well done Vincent!” he said to me, smiling broadly tapping my shoulder.

“Thanks. Well played " I replied with a smile. I didn’t realize who it was. So I replied happily without thinking. But then I turned my head to my right and saw Cade.

Immediately I thought that is not the attitude I am supposed to have with him. Never ever have I smiled at him, and now I not only smile but complimented his play in the game!?

But the feeling I got was very different from the feeling I had unconsciously been feeling for seven years. It wasn’t ignorance or neglect.

Cade always acted like every other one of my teammates; congratulating whoever achieved whatever, even if it was me. I always snapped back. I don’t need his appreciation. I never congratulated him when he scored an important goal.

I didn’t feel bad this time, accidentally smiling and complimenting him. I would not admit it but it felt better than how I felt after shouting insults at him.

But nothing would make me surrender to that.

I instantly threw my smile into my pocket.

“Covering up for missing an open net ay?” I said coldly. He, again, ignored me and continued celebrating with the rest of the team.

That feeling came back again. Like being turned away from like I am no more than an object in its place, easily in its place.

- Chapter 4

“Apologize Vincent,” Oliver demanded me.

I had just come out of the grocery store after shouting insults at Cade. That bloke just fainted, at sixteen years of age, during our game yesterday.

Having the puck, he skated to the net and just collapsed all of a sudden. Weak. I don’t have words for describing how weak he is.

“You’re a fool to ask me to apologize” I said firmly and coldly to Oliver. “I never apologize. And now? To him?” I sniff laughed “not even in your dreams.”

“Vincent this is wrong” Olliver said threateningly.

“So there’s nothing wrong with fainting, Oliver?” I asked challengingly.

“He didn’t faint on purpose” he said firmly

“I can’t believe he’s one of our top players. That swooning–”

“Dont go too far Vincent” Oliver interrupted me “you can’t be sure you won’t be in the same situation tomorrow” he stated.

“But I can,” I said, raising my chin and crossing my arms behind my back. “And I am. Sure.”

Oliver took a deep breath and retreated, walking off his own way.

There it is again, the feeling of worthlessness.

###

“Five losses in a row”

I said angrily to Cade

“FIVE LOSSES IN A ROW” I roared at him. I know it’s a team sport and it isn’t his fault we have lost five games in a row. But isn’t he supposed to be the oh-so-good, top player of our team? Where is that now then huh?

“Where is your amazing skill now, hey?!” I shout at Cade, who is standing irritatingly as usual; he doesn’t care what I’m bellowing.

We were in heavy rain outside Lovingly Artisan, in the middle of Manchester’s urban landscape.

Our hair was flat on our heads, covering our foreheads as we continuously wiped it away from our eyes. The taps of raindrops made us speak loudly.

Pedestrians stared at us walking past. Just as I opened my mouth to say something, I heard a recognizable voice from behind me shout:

“You’re jealous!” a feminine, but not weak, voice shouted from behind me.

I turned around to see Cons, she was soaked to the bone. The hoodie of her grey sweatshirt, which was wet enough to become many shades darker, was pulled over her head.

She looks angrier than I have ever seen her and then she shouted again:

“You’re jealous!” again “I know why you bully Cade! You’re jealous of him!” she shouted.

“Cons” Cade said from behind me to make her stop. But she didn’t she continued shouting:

“You are jealous of his skill!” she went on

“Cons!” Cade demanded.

“You are jealous of his friendships!” he keeps shouting. And I am having to resist the extreme temptation to break her nose. I squeeze my hands into fists as hard as I can.

“You are jealous! And you can’t find any way out other than to bully!” she continued shouting.

“Cons!” Cade demanded firmly, yelling.

“BECAUSE YOU DONT HAVE ANY OF IT!” she shouted the loudest.

“Constance!” Cade burst into shouting and she paused at hearing her full name, breathing heavily.

By now there were a few people standing, around us staring. I feel my face grow hot and I know it’s red. Whether of anger or humiliation, I can’t tell.

Cade walks past me to her, puts his hand behind her shoulder and turned her around directing her away.

I was left in the middle of all those people who began watching us. I don’t look up to any of them, I stomp my foot in a puddle in front of me and storm away.

I will not apologize for the way I’ve become.

No one apologized for making me this way.

- Chapter 5

“I’m making tea. Do you want some?” Oliver asked me. I was sitting on the living room couch with a ps5 controller in my hand.

“Earl grey” I said and he walked into the kitchen.

A minute or two later he came out and set a mug on the coffee table in front of me.

After so many days I still couldn’t forget that feeling I had when I had accidentally smiled at Cade. It was very different, and much more satisfactory than what I usually felt after bullying someone.

For the first time after I became this way, I had the temptation to say “thankyou.”

But it would make me weak. It is not my thing.

Oliver began walked away after placing my mug on the table, I turned my eyes from the screen and looked at him.

I opened my mouth to actually say it. But then closed it again. It is for the weak.

But then I tried, just this once, to see how it felt.

“Thanks” I called out to him, turning back to the screen. He turned around and said “no problem” and continued walking away.

And there’s that feeling. Not the feeling I got after bullying. The feeling I got after I accidentally smiled at Cade.

Is there a connection with the two incidents?

There is, but I try to refuse to admit it. But deep down I know, it is… kindness… that gave me the satisfaction I looked for in bullying, but never found.

- Chapter 6

I handled the puck, I focused on the net. But there were too many opponents at the ready. If I shot, someone would block it before it even reached the goalie.

And this was our last chance.

From the corner of my eye I see Cade at the ready on the other side of the net. Everything was happening so quickly, so tense.

There is no opening, there is not a way.

So I shot the puck, but no one saw what was coming; to the goal, but to my right, the other side of the net. I didn’t even doubt for a second that he would. And he did.

The puck halted as it glided into Cade’s stick, he swung his arm behind his shoulder and shot. Before any of the opponents could even rush to block it, before the goalie’s leg reached the end of the net, the puck went in.

And here we are again, celebrating. The horn seems louder than usual today. We have broken our losing streak. Our whole team is out on the ice celebrating, the noise deafening.

Cade scored the overtime goal, winning us the game. My teammates are all congratulating him. Tapping his shoulder, back, helmet.

The commotion was indescribable.

After losing game after game, there is a smile on my face making my cheek muscles ache again.

I found the answer. What I had been chasing by bullying, I never got. And now I know I never will.

Bullying never made me feel as good as one smile on one “thanks” did.

So i skate up to Cade, i put a hand on his shoulder and say with a smile:

“Well played brother. Well played.”

He looks at me for a second, frowning but still smiling.

“Thanks” he said smiling “you too,”

And there it was again. Not the feeling after I bullied. The feeling after I smiled. After I said thanks.

And now I knew for sure, there was a connection.

Once we had left the ice rink, I jogged up to Cade, who was walking home.

“Hey!” I shouted and he turned around, his expression stated he was ready for the usual. But that’s not what he got.

“Fancy a coffee?” I asked.

He smiled, frowning and replied.

“Sure.” So we walked to a nearby cafe.

There it is again, that feeling.

That feeling of being kind.