“Yeah, we’re ready,” Ryan says and crouches forward at the dot.
Richie takes his time centering himself to face him. “Brandon, you might want to request a trade this summer.” He gestures at Ryan with the handle of his stick. “Your linemate sucks.”
Ryan
Slipping right through McDaniel’s shitty attempt at defense, I chip the puck top shelf on their goalie. It rings off the crossbar, then slips into the net behind him. I skid to a stop and turn to stare right at him. “I suck, huh?”
“Fuck you,” McDaniel says and skates away from me.
I look up at the clock right as Brandon and O’Shea tackle me into a hug by the boards. There’s still fifteen minutes left in this final period and I’m nowhere near done. It has become my personal mission to make sure Richie “Shithead” McDaniel eats his words.
“Way to keep us alive,” Coach Chris says when I skate past the bench to get fist bumps from the rest of my teammates who are banging the boards with their sticks. Once I reach the end of the line, I lift myself over the boards to take my place on the bench as Coach sends out the next line to take the next shift.
“Did you see the look on Richie’s face?” Brandon asks as he takes his place beside me. He grabs one of the iPads and opens it directly to the replay. We lean over it and watch it together. Richie’s face as he realizes the puck went in is priceless. A perfect combination of shocked horror mixed with the knowing that it was all his fault.
“Fucking perfection,” I laugh, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m gonna do it again.”
Brandon
Laughing my fucking ass off. I’m doubled over in front of the net. He really did do it again!
What a thing of beauty. Ryan slipped right through Richie’s defense a second time and chipped the puck into the back of the net again. The only difference was that this time, instead of going top shelf, he flicked the puck in between their goalie’s extended right leg and the blocker pad on his right forearm.
Richie swings his stick and slams it over the net’s crossbar, snapping it in half. I almost feel bad for him. Almost. Okay, not at all. He earned this and then some. Not just tonight but for as long as I’ve known him. I’m not going to feel like a bad person for taking enjoyment in watching my boyfriend humble him in the remaining minutes of this game.
Ryan has figured him out. Ryan has his number. Richie is beaten, and he’s starting to look like he knows it while he skates back to Minnesota’s bench with his busted stick and his head hung in shame.
“Don’t get cocky,” Coach Chris says when we get back to our bench. “There’s still plenty of game left.”
And there is. There’s ten minutes left. A lot can still happen. Plenty can go wrong for us, and right for Minnesota.
But also, as I look down the boards to their bench, I see they’re all sniping at each other. That is never a good sign. A team that’s calm on their bench even when down two–zero is the team you have to worry about. A team like that is unaffected. A team like that still has fight in them. They are confident in themselves and their teammates to turn it around.
That’s not the case with Minnesota right now. They’re turning their backs on each other, looking for someone to blame. Richie is the easy target, but the truth is they’re all responsible. In hockey, to win, a team has to stick together no matter what.
They’re done. This game is ours. There is no way we are going to let this one slip out of our grasp.
“We’re wearing them down!” Danton yells. “Keep the pressure on!”
From my seat at the bench, I watch Gauthier skate past us at lightning-quick speed with the puck on his stick. He takes a hit against the boards, but luckily passes the puck to Roysy before Minnesota is able to steal possession of it. Roysy avoids a hit coming in his direction, by dropping his shoulder and spinning around, then passes the puck to Reinhold, who hits it with a clapper.
The puck slides between their goalie’s knees. It’s the perfect five-hole goal and just the insurance we need to run out the rest of the clock.
When we get down to the final minutes and Minnesota pulls their goalie for a last-ditch attempt to tie up the game, Coach Chris sends me, Ryan, and O’Shea back over the boards to join Danton and Clemmers.
“Be quick!” he directs. “Buzz around them. Don’t give them an inch!”
It’s a good thing he sent us. Richie is desperately trying to make up for his mistakes. He keeps trying to find space and speed to break away from the pressure, but he can’t out-skate both Ryan and me, who are the fastest skaters on our team.
And he definitely can’t slip past Danton’s defense. Especially when Danton has length and reach on him. He uses his stick and perfectly poke-checks the puck away from Richie. It slides cleanly to Ryan. Once he has possession, he takes off at full speed towards Minnesota’s empty net.
Richie turns to chase after him, and I turn to chase after Richie. I catch him quickly and slip between him and Ryan, stopping him from being able to catch Ryan before he gets to the empty net.
Ryan slows his speed, then calls for me. “Brandon!”
I look. He sends the puck to me, and I bury it into the back of the net with a quick flick of my wrist.
Ryan’s face lights up.
