Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance

what Fortes do. If you’re a leader in the room, all the better. Character guys are vital. The more ways you can make yourself indispensable the better.”
I’d heard all this countless times before and not just from my dad. Uncle Rick, Uncle Matt, my late grandfather, and a couple of great uncles had all counseled me my whole life. I could probably write a book filled with their hockey advice.
“I know all that, Dad, and I appreciate how much you care, but there comes a time in a man’s life when he wants to be trusted to live his life, to stand on his own two feet. I don’t want you or anyone else in the family interfering.”
“How am I interfering?”
“Come on, Dad! You talked to Coach Keller about me. You know how that looks? Like my daddy is watching over me like I’m fucking five years old.”
Finally, he looked contrite. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry about that. I just wanted to know what your chances were. I should have just asked AJ.”
“No, you should have just waited to hear who was captain like everybody else’s father.” I unfastened my seat belt.
“But I’m not anyone else’s father and you’re not just anyone’s son. You’re a Forte, damn it and Fortes don’t settle for second best.”
While it was on the tip of my tongue to mention he had never won the Stanley Cup, I knew better than to throw that in his face. It would only make things worse. Anyway, what was done was done and nothing I said now was going to erase tonight’s campaign dinner.
“So from now until the election,” my dad said as I got out of the car, “you’re going to bust your ass even harder and be the first in and the last to leave. Give a few extra pats on the back during practice. Do everything you can to show your team you can lead them to a championship in the spring. Then it won’t matter that I took those guys to dinner. You’ll have earned it.”
When I finally left my dad and went up to the apartment, AJ was stirring some Ovaltine into a glass of milk.
“How do you even have room for that?” I asked.
“Hollow leg?” He shrugged. “Your dad’s a fun guy. My dad would never just drop by and take the team out to dinner, even if he could afford it.”
“My dad didn’t just drop by. He was here trying to get them to vote me in as captain.”
AJ put his glass down and licked the chocolate milk moustache off his upper lip. “No shit?” I could see him run through the events of the night in his head. “That was a pretty slick move. He even arranged for you to be sort of de facto ‘captain’ of the team in that trivia game.”
“Exactly. He likes to pretend he’s just your average schmo, the guy with a C average in high school, yadda yadda yadda, but his brain is always working the angles. He’s a calculating SOB.”
“But he’s a fun, calculating SOB.” AJ glugged more of his chocolate milk. “Your dad didn’t have to bother. You’re a shoo-in for captain.”
“I am not. The captaincy always goes to a senior.”
“Not true. Under certain circumstances, it can go to a junior. And I don’t think anyone thinks Pete’s a good leader. He can be such a dick sometimes. So can Kurly. You, on the other hand…you’re reliable and easygoing but you’re not a pushover. Hell, everybody likes you.”
“You sure it’s not just because I’m a Forte?” I asked.
“Honestly?” AJ said, “maybe a little. But for the most part, you just show up. All the time. You care about the team more than yourself and you make us all better, on the ice and off.”
I scoffed. “You keep talking like that, asshole, and I’m going to expect an engagement ring.”

5
Indi
As a psychological science major with an eye toward medical school, I was taking a lot of math and science and one breather course so I could stay sane. An aspiring immigration lawyer, Ruby was in the same boat, except she was weighed down with Asian studies, political science and history. We both ended up taking Photography Appreciation, which was supposed to be both an analysis of the history of photography and practical instruction on taking good photographs. I mean, who doesn’t want to learn how to take better pictures? It’s a skill that would come in handy for the rest of our lives. What sold us on the class was that the course description said you could complete all the assignments with a smart phone. As far as I was concerned, this would be an easy A.
Our photography instructor, Larissa Larkmont, didn’t show up for the first two class sessions due to illness, but she didn’t let us off the hook. We’d been given detailed instructions on how to create our required photography blogs where all the assignments for the semester will be posted.
Just after Ruby and I took seats in the second row, Professor Larkmont strode in. She was tall and had a commanding presence. Her gray hair came just down to her chin in a severe bob and she wore a belted knit dress with heavy-duty combat boots.
“Hello, everyone,” she said. “Sorry about last week. Couldn’t be helped. At least, through the miracle of technology, we could proceed anyway. One of these days they won’t need human professors at all, but hopefully I’ll be retired by then.”
She spent a little time reviewing the syllabus and the assignments. To be honest, a lot of them sounded like fun. Some of the work was written. We were to read articles, study the work of professional photographers, and explain the meaning behind some of our photographs. Best of all, she had extra credit assignments. To me, extra credit was insurance. If you tanked a test, extra credit could save you. Even though I was adopted by white parents, I still ended up being the