"Mom," Puck said, his voice quieter than he intended.
The air left the room. Puck’s vision tunneled. Junk. His father’s last gift, the only memory he had of the man who’d died of a heart attack when Puck was four—the puck he’d held during every nightmare, every school play, every moment of grief—was junk.
Puck turned and walked to the front door. He didn't run. He didn't cry. He opened the closet, pulled out his old hockey bag, and began stuffing it with a hoodie, a phone charger, and a granola bar.
Marcus stood up. "Now, Derek, if you did that, that was careless. But it was an honest mistake. Puck, your mother and I have talked. It's time to let go of some of these… attachments. You're thirteen. Not a little kid anymore." MomComesFirst - Little Puck - The New Family -2...
"You threw it away?" Puck’s whisper was more terrifying than a scream.
"Gone?" Elara asked, wiping her hands on a towel. "You probably left it in your room, honey."
"Little Puck," Derek mocked from the sofa, "running away to find his magic puck? Good luck." "Mom," Puck said, his voice quieter than he intended
That was the final betrayal. Not Derek’s cruelty. Not the lost puck. But his mom’s silence. She didn't defend him. She just looked at Marcus, then at Puck, and said, "He's right, honey. Maybe this is a good thing. A fresh start. The new family needs new memories."
The trouble started with the thermostat. "We’re a family now," Marcus had declared on day one, "we compromise." Compromise, Puck learned, meant that his mom’s art studio got moved to the cramped attic so Derek could have the guest bedroom for his "study sessions." Compromise meant that Puck’s weekly Dungeons & Dragons nights with his friends were replaced with "family bonding" dinners where Derek scrolled through his phone and Marcus critiqued Puck’s posture.
"The puck. It’s gone."
Tonight was the breaking point.
Puck paused on the porch. He turned back just once, not to look at Derek, but at his mother. "You always said mom comes first," he said quietly. "But I thought that meant you'd come first for me. I didn't know it meant they'd come first over me."
Puck stood at the bottom of the stairs, clutching the worn leather hockey puck his late father had given him. It was his totem, the only thing that felt real. His mom was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of chili. Marcus was reading a financial report in his leather armchair. Derek was sprawled on the sofa, watching a game on the big TV—the same TV Puck used to watch old sci-fi marathons with his mom every Friday. He didn't run
But Puck knew he wouldn't be back. Not this time. The new family could have their compromises, their silent dinners, and their polished lies. He had a father’s memory to find—even if it was buried in a landfill. And he had a new rule now: Mom comes first no longer applied. From now on, Puck came first.
Two months had passed since the wedding. Two months since his mom, Elara, had smiled that new, wide smile and said, "Puck, it’s time for a new chapter." The chapter was named Marcus. And Marcus came with a son: Derek, a broad-shouldered, lacrosse-playing senior who smelled of cologne and arrogance. The new family was a puzzle where Puck’s piece no longer fit.