"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret sitting down?" Zoey says, eyes studying the smug look on my face.
I reach beneath my chair and pull out the first item. A giant purple foam finger, the kind that's bigger than Morgan's entire torso.
"For the kid."
I hand it across and Morgan gasps like I've just presented her with the Holy Grail.
I reach back underneath and fetch the bucket of popcorn. Not a bag. Abucket. The king-sized ones they only sell at the premium concession stand, drowning in melted butter and dusted with that seasoning blend Lars sold to Big Mike years ago.
Zoey stares at the bucket. "That could feed a family of six."
"Or one hockey fan and her mother." I set it between our seats, still grinning. "And last but not least…"
I pull out a colossal souvenir cup the size of Morgan's head, frosted electric purple and topped with a snap-on lid shaped likea snarling leopard. The Snow Leopards logo glitters across one side in gold foil, and on the other side… ismy face.
Mid-celebration. Frozen forever in a sweaty, gap-toothed grin from last season's playoff run, airbrushed onto plastic like I'm some kind of cereal box mascot.
Morgan's eyes go supernova.
"NO WAY."
But the real showstopper? The straw.
A neon green spiral monstrosity that corkscrews up from the lid in four impossible loops, twisting and curling through the air like a roller coaster designed by someone who's never heard the wordrestraint.
"Way." I hand it to her, and she cradles it against her jersey like a newborn.
Zoey leans across and reads the cup size printed on the side. Her eye twitches.
"Colt. That's athirty-two-ouncesoda."
"Frozen soda," I correct proudly, winking at Morgan. "It'sgame fuel, Morrison."
"She'sten."
"And she's going to need the energy. This game's going to be intense."
"Colt." Zoey fixes me with a look that could freeze the ice over again. "She is going to be bouncing off the walls until midnight."
I shrug, grinning. "That's future Zoey's problem."
"Iamfuture Zoey!"
Morgan has already inserted the spiral straw and taken a pull so aggressive the cup nearly collapses inward. She surfaces with a gasp, eyes wild.
"This is thebeststraw I've ever used."
Zoey drops her head into her hands and groans, but I can see her shoulders shaking with a laugh as the arena lights finally start to dim.
A pulse of bass rolls through the arena, deep enough to rattle my ribs. The crowd stirs, conversations dying, bodies leaning forward.
The massive screens flash to black, then explode with the Snow Leopards intro video. Highlights flash, all of it set to a custom remix of "Seven Nation Army" laced with leopard roars and tribal drums that hit somewhere primal.
Morgan scrambles onto her seat, standing on the cushion in her sparkly sneakers, foam finger raised in the air.
Then, out of nowhere… the first Snow Leopard hits the ice.
"THAT'S NUMBER TWELVE! THAT'S SILAS YORK!" Morgan screams, jabbing the foam finger toward the glass. "Mom, he'sright there!"
