I snarl at Cookie, and he scoots all the way down the bench so I can collapse and choke down the cool liquid.
I stare blankly over the ice as the Direwolves score two goals in quick succession. The numbers tick up: 0-8. And we have thirty-seven minutes to go.
“Did you just put in all forwards?” I snap at her when I see her send in the next line. “We need to be playing defense. What are you doing?”
“Offense is the best defense.”
I will one of the giant inflatable Christmas decorations hanging from the roof to crash down, smother us, and put us all out of our misery.
Ryder and his team score another goal.
“I remember my first NHL game,” Zayne slurs next to me as he sips from a bottle.
“Is that—did someone give him more alcohol?” I yell.
“Goddamn it, Gran, I told you,” Ellie hisses as the goal horn sounds again.
“There’s no mercy rule in the NHL, is there?” Jonesy chews on his mouthguard.
“No,” I say, disgusted. “The whole country is going to watch as the score goes up. It’s going to be twenty to nothing at this rate.”
“… won that game.” Zayne’s head nods as he talks.
“Do you think you can play?” Ellie asks Zayne.
“Are you freaking kidding me? You know who needs to play?Cookie,” I demand.
The rookie cries into his glove.
Ellie reshuffles the lines again and sends out the next wave of victims…
Who are not facing Ryder or any of his linemates because Ryder has pulled all their star players off the ice and is sending out the rookies. They can barely stand on their skates. They stare up at the ceiling and are out of position, and yet still, somehow, we cannot score.
“We’re losing against that?” Bramms cries, throwing his helmet to the ground.
“Bramms, you and Heikkiläinen join with Carlsson’s line.”
“Who?” Bramms squints.
Ellie clicks her tongue. “You’ve been on this team for two months now. You need to know everyone’s name.”
“Fuck their names. Get out on the ice,” I scream at them.
The Finnish giant is, I assume, cursing both my ancestors and my future descendants like I’m the problem here. Meanwhile, Zayne, the actual fucking captain, is drinking again, supplied by an elderly woman.
“Gran, stop giving him alcohol. He has a problem.” Ellie tries to fight the elderly woman for her thermos.
Zayne makes a gurgling noise, pitches back, and falls backward off the bench. Ellie and I both swear and grab him, hauling him back upright.
“Why did you let him drink?” I scream at her. “Why are you letting your grandmother serve hard liquor?”
“I thought he was done for the night.” The elderly woman shrugs.
“No!” I bellow at her.
“Hold onto your nipples, hot stuff. I’ll get him rearing and ready.” Granny Murray starts digging in her fanny pack. “I got Adderall, I got cocaine, I got—”
“Oh God,” Ellie moans.
