I pick her up around the waist and throw her into the hallway. “Out.” I slam the locker room door behind her and stare down my team. “Now, you motherfuckers, listen to me. I am not losing to these fucking self-absorbed dicks. I don’t want to just—shut up, Eddie. I don’t care if they have Emil Maynard on their team. We have Zayne fucking Murphy, the greatest hockey player who ever lived, whose name is inscribed on the cup not one, not two, not even three, but six goddamn times.”
I make a knife hand at Ren. “We have the craziest fucking goalie in the league. He’s not some pampered player whose parents bought him a spot, either—he’s a redneck from Mississippi. You want to know how insane you have to be from Mississippi and play hockey? And Cookie—” The little forward looks like he’s going to pass out. “You were the number one draft pick. They called you the next Ryan West.” I get in his face. “You will man the fuck up and get on the ice tonight and score a goal.”
His mouth drops open.
“I don’t want to hear shit from any of you about how we suck and we’re losers. I don’t care if we’re the worst fucking team in the league. We’re sitting at a bar in hell? Fine, then we’re dragging them all down with us.”
“Fuck yeah, let’s do this shit!” Jovi hollers as the players whoop.
Ren snorts a line of powder off his glove. “It’s caffeine pills and Pixy Stix, man.”
“Hell yeah, let’s fucking go!”
“No one saw that,” I threaten as Jovi bangs his helmet on Bramms’s.
“Go to the box,” I bark at Ellie as I brush past her like I’m going to war.
The Orcas aren’t done fucking with us, though. I can tell something’s wrong when the ice rink is washed in pink light as we step out. Then the first tinny notes echo around the stadium, followed by the “OoooOOOOHHH” of the crowd as they recognize the ’90s pop song.
“Are they playing the fucking Barbie song?” Ren snaps at me. Either it’s the caffeine powder or the pink light, but the goalie looks unhinged as he circles the ice.
Several drunk fans in the audience sing along. The camera pans to Ellie in the box with her pink suit as the music screeches, “I’m a Barbie giiirrrlll!”
It’s not even the Nicki Minaj rap version. I’m pissed as the pink lights pulse around. It’s the ’90s one—all bubblegum pop and techno consumerism.
The Orcas fans screech in laughter as we skate up to the blue line for the national anthem. I seethe as the Orcas players line up across from us. Vidic, the alternate captain, stands next to Emil, smirking at me.
“Let’s fuck him up, boss.” Jovi’s antsy next to me, like he’s just waiting for me to snap the leash so he can fly.
All through the national anthem, I’m fuming.
“Good luck, Barbie,” the Orcas players chirp at us.
“Let’s go, Barbie!”
The rage pulses behind my eyes. I want to beat someone with my hockey stick. I settle for trying to beat them at hockey.
It’s going to be an impossible task.
We lose the face-off. Well, Zayne loses the face-off to Maynard. The veteran player passes it to the alternate captain, and the Orcas are off, racing to the goal.
Bramms skates backward, keeping pace with their assistant captain, trying to throw him off his shot. The puck ricochets off Vidic’s stick, and the crowd roars as the first goal is scored and it’s not even five seconds… but it’s not a goal.
“Hell yeah, Mississippi!” Jovi whoops as Ren holds up his glove, the small black puck dark against the white.
It’s another face-off. Zayne digs in. He used to win face-offs, was the king of face-offs. Maybe still is—the way his eyes are sort of glazed, like they’re seeing everything at once.
He’s still got it!The kid in me whoops as he gets possession of the puck.
The puck goes straight to my stick; then I’m tear-assing down the ice like clockwork. I spin into one of the plays Ellie created, that we repeated in practice and analyzed in my hotel room last night. Bramms gets it, turns back to Zayne, over to me, to Jovi, to the Finn—into the net!
“Yes!” Jovi screams, throwing himself at me.
We jump on the Finn, hugging him, patting his head as he roars something in Scandinavian.
The Orcas are pissed. We scored against them early, too, made them look stupid, and they’re going to make us pay.
I’m breathing hard when Ellie changes out the lines. Two of the rookies are out there skating with Carlsson.
