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“What was with you tonight?” Dan bumped my elbow. “You started out strong, but then you lost it. Is it your leg again? You been doing your stretches?”
“Shut up,” said Enrique. “Leave him alone.”
I ignored both of them and headed straight off the ice. A couple of reporters stopped me for a quote. I gave them the usual line, how I was proud of my teammates, how they’d fought hard. How no one wins every game, but we’d be back strong. They asked about my injury and I said I was fine, scanning over their shoulders for a glimpse of Leon. I should’ve looked behind me, because he’d slipped through the gate, past the tired guard on duty. He was waiting by the benches by the locker room.
“Hey,” he said, when I turned and saw him.
I pulled off my helmet. “Hey. Glad you made it.”
“You looked good,” he said.
I made a sound like tch.
“No, really. You did. You scored the only goal.”
“Except those four for the other team, or did you miss those?” I heard how I sounded, all snippy and sour. “Sorry,” I said. “Just, y’know, losing… Where’s Izzy tonight?”
Leon peered past me. “In the bathroom, I think. She said she’d come meet us. But, I don’t know. I should just take her home. She wasn’t feeling too good, something she ate.”
My chest swelled with elation — she’d come after all — then quickly deflated, guilt rushing in. I’d been out there all petty, thinking the worst, and Izzy had been here sick the whole time. She’d done her friend duty and then some, and I’d been a jerk.
But she’s still leaving. There’s still New York.
“Hey, Leon, uh?—”
“There you guys are!” Izzy waved at us from behind the gate. The guard raised his brows at me and I motioned her in. She came over to join us and I saw she looked pale. Her skin had a greenish cast under her tan. I looked away quickly, burning with shame. And it wasn’t just shame, but a whole tide of feeling — hurt and rejection, sadness and longing. Hot, childish anger at her, at myself. If I stuck around to talk to her, it might all spill out. She didn’t deserve that. She’d done nothing wrong.
“I should go,” I said.
Izzy stopped in her tracks. She looked like I’d slapped her, and my guilt surged anew.
“What the hell, man?” said Leon.
I sniffed at my shoulder. “I stink from the game.”
It was a lame excuse, and Izzy didn’t buy it. Her lips went tight and she nodded at Leon. “I’ll wait in the car. I’m sick anyway.” She turned and strode off before I could stop her, and Leon rounded on me.
“What crawled up your ass? You gotta act like a dick?”
I had no good response to that, so I only shrugged. Leon’s lip pulled back, and I thought he might sock me.
“I get you had a bad night, but so did she. And she came out anyway. She came to support you, and you blew her off. Did you guys have some fight you haven’t told me about?”
“No fight,” I said. “I’m just tired and grouchy. Tell her sorry for me?”
“Tell her yourself. And you better bring chocolates. And some ginger tea, in case she’s still sick.” He stomped off after Izzy, leaving me to my shame spiral. I watched him march past the guard, then I went to my locker. I pulled out my phone, and saw that Izzy had texted.
Good luck! We just got here. We’ll be cheering you on!
“I’m an asshole,” I muttered.
“Well, you played like one tonight.”
I spun on my heel to find Coach Nelson behind me. He pointed at the bench and I sat down.
“I’m disappointed,” he said. “You could be my best player, but it’s like I keep saying. You aren’t consistent. You play great some nights, then some nights you play lousy, and I never know which side I’ll get on the ice. What happened out there?”
I stared at my skates, too tired to feel angry. All that had drained out of me when Izzy walked out. All I felt now was exhaustion and loss.
