We got some quality frog interaction in that update! Here’s a little thing about that scene w the flyers. Dex is low key emotional. Idk.
“All right, guys. I printed up these fliers letting people know the Samwell Men’s Hockey team needs a new manager. Lord knows poor Lardo can’t ask around with graduation a few months away. Y’all can use Frog Hour to get the word out.”
Dex looked down at the stack of flyers in his arms. At the top of the page was a black and white picture of the team, all of them in their uniforms, looking at the camera seriously. Not very representative, he thought. Under the picture, huge letters proclaimed, “Position available: Samwell Men’s Hockey team manager.” There was a section titled, “Responsibilities,” with only one bullet point, “Manage the hockey team.” Dex rolled his eyes. It was kind of misleading. This person would have to deal with a lot more bullshit than that. Thankfully, at the bottom was a number to call for more details.
“Anywhere in particular?” Dex asked.
“I don’t know. Wherever you think is best. Probably spread them out some.”
“Alright.” He, Nursey, and Chowder turned to go. Chowder pouted a little on the way out. Frog Hour was the break the three of them shared. It wasn’t really an hour; closer to two and a half hours. They usually used the time to get burritos at the place just off campus.
“What’s the plan?” Nursey muttered when they were out on the sidewalk. He shuffled the pages in his hands.
“We can still hang! We can start up by Faber and end down past the pond, and burritos are right there!” Chowder said. Frog Hour was one of the few opportunities they all had to hang out. Their schedules didn’t really line up this semester.
“It would probably be faster for us to split up,” Dex observed.
“Yeah! I’ll get the athletic places and North Quad.”
“Alright. I’ll do Lake and South quad.”
Dex turned to Nursey.
“I don’t know, man. I’ll hit up the science buildings? Maybe. I guess. East Quad?”
Dex raised an eyebrow.
“Brah, chill. I’ll find places.”
At the street corner, Chowder and Dex went one way, and Nursey went the other. Chowder and Dex were halfway down the block when Chowder spun around.
“Nursey! Meet at the South Quad Bridge! Burritos! Best friend time!”
Dex looked over his shoulder to see Nursey hold a thumbs up over his head.
Chowder spun back around. “He’ll be there. He doesn’t want to be a square,” he told Dex.
“The worst shape,” Dex said.
Chowder punched him in the shoulder in agreement.
Dex visited every building on his two quads. He posted a flyer to every bulletin board, taped them to phone poles. He asked cafes and coffee shops to post them in the windows. With every flyer he put up, he felt like another piece of his heart was chipped away.
Each time he posted a paper and walked away, another wave of nostalgia washed over him, memories of things that wouldn’t happen again after this year. Dance parties in the locker rooms to Ransom’s playlists. Waking up on the green couch after a kegster to the sound of Holster yelling upstairs. Sunny, cool evenings in the reading room with Lardo, sometimes passing a joint back and forth, sometimes not, sometimes talking, sometimes silent.
Dex knew that the Samwell Men’s Hockey team was not its players. Or its managers. The team had existed for decades, and players came and went every year. The team would exist long after the seniors – and Bitty, and Dex, Chowder, and Nursey – graduated. But Dex couldn’t help but mourn this iteration of the team. The team would exist, but it would never be the same again.
Naturally, Dex’s sadness translated to frustration. 40 minutes passed, and Dex still had a quarter of his flyers left. It was still February, and the wind was cold on his ears and nose. His knuckles felt like ice cubes. Irritation simmered warm in his chest.
Dex stopped at another bulletin board, and Chowder walked toward him down the sidewalk.
“Okay! Founder’s has a flyer on every floor! In ever carrel! In every bathroom stall!” He told Dex over his shoulder.
“Great.” Dex tried not to snap. Chowder hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, Chowder probably didn’t even need to be here. He already had dibs. “I put flyers up at high-traffic areas in Koetter Café, on bulletin boards on Lake Quad and…” He turned to see Nursey standing beside Chowder. He couldn’t keep the aggravation out of his voice anymore. “… why. Why do you still have all of your flyers?” he asked with a frown.
Nursey raised an eyebrow. “Oh. The spam thing seemed O.D. uneconomical. I’ve been handing ‘em out to managerial types.” He turned to a short girl with thick glasses and a red ribbon in her hair. “… Hey. Flyer.” he said simply.
“Neat!” she said, and walked away, reading the flyer as she went.
Fucking ridiculous. Dex’s face went blank, and he threw his stack of flyers over his shoulder.
“At least people are seeing them!” Chowder said. Yeah. More people had definitely read the three flyers Nursey handed out in the last minute than had read the 60 Dex and Chowder had put up in half an hour.
“Sup,” Nursey said to the next person he deemed ‘managerial.’ “Flyer?”
“Do you need help picking those up?” Chowder asked Dex.
“No,” Dex sighed, bending down. “I know you’d just pull some bullshit.”
Chowder smirked. “I was going to say ‘too bad,’ then help you anyway. But you said no, so…”
“See? I knew it.” Dex stood and straightened the stack in his hands. Chowder was grinning at him, and Dex managed to smile back. He turned to Nursey. “Yo, Nurse. How many of those have you given out?”
“Not sure. Probs approx 20.”
Dex’s mouth stretched into a thin line as he thought. They would probably get at least 10 applicants from all the flyers they’d posted and given away. Definitely more than the two they’d gotten so far from word of mouth.
Nursey came over and slung an arm over Dex’s shoulders. “It’s def enough. We’ll find someone. I liked the looks of that girl with the ribbon.”
Nursey rubbed his hand over Dex’s bicep and kissed his temple. “We’ll find someone. It’ll be alright.”
“You guys are gross,” Chowder said.
“Can we get burritos now?” Dex asked.
“Yeah,” Nursey grabbed his hand.
“Best bro burritos!” Chowder crowed. He bounced over and put an arm around Dex’s shoulder from the other side.
Dex smiled, the frustration draining out of him. Things would change. Things always changed. But for now, he was going to get burritos and hang with his best friends.
Nursey, Chowder, the entire team had his back, and he had theirs, whether they all were still a hockey team or not. Lardo may not be their manager next year, but the trust she and Dex had built would long outlast her title.
Some things were forever. Dex’s connection with his teammates was one of them. He just needed to remember that.