Her name is the last thing I remember before sleep takes me deep into the darkness.
The arena smells like cold air, determination, and something fried.
I’m standing in the entrance for a moment longer than necessary, clutching my paper cup of coffee as if it might anchor me. The ice is stretched out in a bright white sheet under harsh light, carved up by red and blue lines that mean absolutely nothing to me.
I’ve never been to a hockey game before, and I have no idea how long these last. All I know is that Skye wanted me to be here, and there was no way in hell I was going to say no to that.
It matters to her that I’m here.
That thought pulls my mouth into a smile that would have someone asking if I needed to be admitted into the hospital.
Crazy girl conspiring by the eastern concession stand.
Looking around, I notice there are hardly any empty seats. Fans hold flags with their faces covered in paint. I note the amount of number 13 pieces scattered throughout the crowd, and warmth pools in my chest. Rissa or Paige mentioned Skye was number 13 when we were at the arcade.
All of a sudden, that’s my favorite number.
I find my seat along the plexiglass wall, settle, and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I scan the ice.
A few minutes later, the referees, or are they called officials in hockey, skate out onto the ice. They’re doing laps and warming themselves up, which surprises me a little since they only stand there and watch the game.
Right?
“That official is so hot,” the girl beside me announces to her friend.
Official. Got it.
I analyze the girls sitting next to me. How do teens afford to attend an Olympic game? I can’t imagine the tickets here are cheap, unless their family is playing?
My phone chimes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a stern text message, even though Michel knows his tone does not affect me.
Michel:You better be staying out of trouble. What’s your location?
He and I both know that my phone is traced for him and Ollie. I’m sure he’s just testing to see if I’ll answer.
Violet:Watching the women’s hockey game.
The bubbles pop up and disappear a few times before I get the text I knew was coming.
Michel:Sally the camel has…
Rolling my eyes, I reply to our code text, letting him know I haven’t been kidnapped or taken hostage by a crazy person.
Violet:Three humps. Very funny.
Michel:So you’re actually watching sports. I’m glad you’re branching out.
My eyes dart toward the tunnels the hockey players will funnel through once they’re announced, and part of me wants to tell Michel about Skye. But I think I’ll keep that one to myself for a little while longer.
Violet:What are you and Tommy getting into today?
Michel:Tommy heard something about a tree growing out of a skyscraper.
That’s all he has to say. Michel may be strict with me, but he’s always given Tommy anything he wants. It’s actually kind of sweet.
The intercom jumps to life as the commentators yell, “Welcome to the final preliminary game in the women’s Olympic hockey event.”
I can just make out what he says over the hum of the crowd and the echo of the speakers in the arena.
