Zayne sucks in a breath as we watch Emil then lets it out. “He’s right. We’re fucked.”
“You have better hockey sense than him,” I say stubbornly, like I’m back in the schoolyard playing street hockey and defending my idol. “He’s a scorer. You’re a craftsman.”
A box bounces on Cookie’s helmet and busts open, raining more tampons down his jersey.
“Are you seriously letting this happen?” I skate over to one of the refs.
He sucks on his teeth. “Let what happen?”
An Orcas fan throws a huge box onto the ice, and it explodes, sending more tampons scattering. Cookie is hurriedly trying to sweep them all off our side of the ice.
The ref finally sighs. “You gotta have a thick skin in the NHL, son.”
Another box is badly thrown and bops one of the linesmen on the head. He turns and screams at one of the security guards, who scampers to berate the drunk fan.
The fan pumps a fist, and the Orcas players raise their sticks to him in a salute as he’s dragged away. Their alternate captain makes a vulgar gesture to me as his team skate like pros—like NHL players, like Stanley Cup champions—back to their tunnel.
I hate the Orcas team, I decide. Hate them more than my dad, more than Ellie, more than Hudson.
The rookies look rattled as we head back to the locker rooms, nervously kicking the snow off their skates, chewing on their mouthguards.
And here’s Ellie in the bright-pink suit. Her smile’s strained.
Someone asks from beside me, “Why does she even have to wear that?”
I jab Eddie with my stick, sitting there as Ellie grits out her toxic positivity. “Guess you heard the good news,” I say as she picks a tampon out of Cookie’s jersey.
“Sticks and stones,” Ellie singsongs. “They’re trying to get in your head.”
“And it’s working,” Eddie mutters.
“Just ignore them, and they’ll go away.”
“No, they won’t. We have to play them,” Ziggy complains.
I steal glances at her as I’m getting ready. She looks nervous, worried. Guilty. Sad.Scared.
I work my jaw.
“Zayne, you’ve been in the league a while. Do you have any words of wisdom and encouragement?” Ellie sounds desperate.
“Bend down and kiss your ass goodbye,” Eddie mumbles.
I growl at him. He gives me an ugly look.
Zayne stands up, rocking on his skates. “You know…” Zayne scratches under his helmet. “I think we’ve got a great group here. And sure, the Orcas are the reigning champions, but don’t bet against hockey, right? If we all work together, I think we can have a really good showing. No one expects us to win, so we can just go out there and try our best, try some new moves. Just don’t give up—even when we’re down. No one dies from losing. We get paid either way.”
There’s half-hearted clapping from Jonesy and a couple confused but enthusiastic rookies. Ren’s eyes shift behind his goalie mask.
It’s the opposite of inspiring. It’s lackluster, demoralizing.
Jovi looks like he wants to crawl under the bench and hide.
“Why do we have to play them?” one of the rookies asks in a small voice.
“Fuck this shit.” I stand up. “Ellie, get out.”
“What? Why? You can’t kick me out. We have to—”
