“You got a goal!” Ellie’s congratulating our line, patting us on the helmets. “Good job! I knew you could do it!” We bask in the praise.
Zayne’s locked in, though—barely acknowledges it as he watches the game from the bench.
I look back at Ellie. She’s resting her arms on the Finn’s helmet, craning over our heads to see the ice. Like he’s her boyfriend or something. I feel the frown crease my forehead as I see the tiniest of twitches at the corner of the Finn’s mouth.
I turn around, kick Jovi to scoot over, grab Ellie by the waist, and set her in her pink shoes on the bench.
I get one pale-eyebrow raise from the Finn.
Chewing on my mouthguard so I don’t punch him in the face because we actually, you know, need him to win, I face back to the ice, trying not to think about Ellie right behind me—like I could literally just turn around and grab the back of her legs and…
Fuck.The Orcas are brutal. One defender slams into Carlsson as he’s cutting across the ice. My teammate goes down, sliding across the ice as the Orcas take the puck.
The ref waves his arms.
“Clean hit? No fucking way,” I scream at the ref. “Are you gonna do your goddamn job?” The ref turns to scowl in my direction. “Yeah, I’m talking to you, you fucking ass—mhmff.”
Ellie’s got her arm wrapped around my neck, hand covering my mouth.
The ref skates over, hand up like he’s about to give us a penalty. That’s the last thing we need—to be down a man.
“We didn’t say anything,” she says cheerfully to the ref, leaning over to talk to him.
The fucking guy is old enough to be her dad, and he’s clearly trying to pretend like he’s not stealing a peek down the plunging neckline of the pink suit jacket.
I lunge, and the ref skitters back. “You fucking—”
Ellie’s hand is back on my mouth; her knees dig into my back as she yanks me backward. “We’re good here. Everything is fine. You’re doing an awesome job! No,” she scolds me, wagging a finger in my face after the ref skates away. “We cannot afford to have you thrown out of the game. If I put you back in, can you behave?”
“No.” I jump over the boards onto the ice, Zayne behind me.
The Orcas chip away at us; we’re on the defensive. The only reason that we’re not down by five already is because of Ren.
“I hope they don’t test for Pixy Stix,” Jonesy jokes.
The Orcas get shot after shot on goal. Our defense hasn’t completely collapsed—thank God Bramms is digging in, trying to get the puck up. The Orcas are good, though—big and fast. And they beat us back, keeping the puck longer and longer in our zone each time we lose possession, until—
“GOAL!” the horn blares through the stadium.
First period isn’t great,but it also somehow doesn’t completely suck. Carlsson got another goal with a sick assist from Zayne, but so did the Orcas.
Second period, though?
“If you don’t keep them goddamn pucks away from my net,” Ren hisses at me through his missing teeth, “I’mma skin you, boy. You hear me?”
I incline my chin to him, and he skates off, still somehow graceful despite the goalie pads.
“You see his skates?” Zayne says to me as he skates around, warming up before the period starts. “They’re like ours. They’re not goalie skates. That’s why he’s so good against the Orcas. They aren’t expecting him to move like that, that fast, you know?” Zayne taps my helmet with his stick then leans over for the face-off.
The whistle blows. Zayne sends the puck straight to my tape… and that’s the last good thing that happens all period.
We dig in.
I don’t want to lose. It’s not that I want to win—I just don’t want to lose. I’m sick of fucking losing.
I break through the Orcas players, try to find Jonesy, don’t find him, see the Finn. Emil cuts in front of my pass. Zayne goes after him, but he’s just a hair too slow. I cut in, slam into Emil—it’s like running into a brick wall—collect the puck, trying not to get rattled, trying to get it up, trying to keep it away from Ren in the net.
Ellie keeps switching the lines, trying to keep us fresh.
