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“You’re coming in too high on it. You get to the top of the circle before the D’s turned, and you’ve got nowhere to go.”

“You haven’t seen me do it.”

“I’ve watched you play for thirteen years.”

“Not today.”

“Watch it anyway.”

I get the tape free and ball it in my fist, and I’m already running the entry in my head: where the D’s hips are, how late I can leave it.

“Listen,” Dad says. “Don’t try to win the spot in one skate. It’s preseason. You’ll press. You always press the first couple weeks.”

“I’m not pressing.”

“You kept your head today?”

I look at the tape in my fist. “Yeah.”

“Good man. How’s the roommate?”

Rafe looks up at the same second, like he felt it. “Annoying,” I say.

Rafe gives me the finger without taking his eyes off his phone.

“Good,” Dad says. “Builds character.”

“Mine or his?”

“Yours. His might be a lost cause.”

I laugh, and Rafe’s eyes narrow. What did he say? he mouths. I shake my head.

Dad asks if I’ve got enough food in the room. I tell him I do. What I actually have is protein bars, half a bag of chips, and something Rafe bought yesterday that I’m pretty sure needs a refrigerator and is currently sweating on his desk.

“All right. I’ll let you go. Call me after the next skate.”

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“What did he say about me?” Rafe asks when I hang up.

“That you’re a lost cause.”

From the hallway, Koda yells, “Are we lifting, or are you two getting married?”

The dining hall at six on a Friday is louder than the rink, because nobody in it is moving for a reason. People stop in the middle of every aisle to decide whether they want pizza like the outcome will follow them for life. I get a plate, find the gap in the line nobody else sees, and take a table near the back with a view of the doors.

Rafe has built a plate that could feed three people. Koda has cereal.

“What the fuck is that?” I say.

“Cereal.” He points his spoon at a table of girls from the rowing team across the aisle, loud enough that they hear it. “It’s what they eat and look at them. Shoulders like a refrigerator. I’m doing the opposite.”

One of them turns around. He winks at her. She gives him a look that should have ended him, and he goes back to his cereal.