Hockey King by Day, Forbidden Uncle by Night

NA

ther's study. I was eighteen, lounging on the sofa, we

the league, stood with his back to me, a silent, imposing figure before the floor-

k lay my S

Next to it, physics and math

intentional. I w

turned around. His face was completely expressionless, but th

what?" I asked, my tone deliberately indiffer

esk. The papers on it jumped. "Do you think th

re? Or the future you designed for me? Dad, I don't want to st

This family doesn't need a street artist! A

t your standards, I don't even hav

ng until we were shouting. It was the m

ience. He sank back into his chair, lookin

e said flatly. "You think everything you h

ps together, de

nishing from his eyes. "Since you're so eager to exper

rrangements. I'm sending my daughter to Northridge Academy. Yes,

ntry's most brutal hockey meat-grinder, famous for its gruel

ieked. "I'm not going! I hat

erciless. "You'll learn. You will learn discipline

e as he delivered my sentenc

tronics are confiscat

han one hundred dollars in cash.

deadly calm, "you will not set foot outside th

hearing. I lunged for his ph

ity. Two large men appeared, fl

commanded. "She is not to leave it un

, screaming and cursing at h

nd me, followed by the def

on the wood until my knuckles were b

came. On

nally sank in. He wasn't bluffin

the floor, the muted sound of my father's voice drifted through the heavy oak

ending her to Northridge tomorrow morning. Break h

wn grief, I had no idea what tha