Even in a generic practice jersey, he took up too much space. I watched the broad line of his shoulders right up until he drove his weight into the boards, delivering a punishing check that rang off the high ceiling. He looked entirely unaffected.
Matt sent a routine tape-to-tape pass my way. Normally, I’d receive it without looking. Today, my hands reacted a full second later, and the puck skipped harmlessly over my blade.
A shrill whistle cut through the rink noise. Elliot skated over before I could line up for the next drill, his stick tapping my shin guard hard enough to sting. He corralled me toward the glass, squaring his shoulders in that captain’s stance he’d been perfecting since peewees.
“Alright,” he said, planting his hands on his hips. “You want to tell me why you’re skating like a guy who only just learned to hold a stick yesterday, or should I start guessing?”
“I’m fine.”
“You just fumbled a tape-to-tape pass. It was an absolute gift.” He tapped his blade against the ice three times. “That’s the third one you’ve blown this period. I’m keeping a tally.”
“Sounds like a productive use of your ice time.”
Elliot frowned at me. “Don’t get cute. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“Maybe I haven’t.” I shifted my weight, watching the far end of the rink where Aleksey was lining up for a breakout drill. Shoulders braced. Jaw set. Zero indication that I existed. “Midterms.”
“Midterms?” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving the front sticking up. “You’re pre-med and you’ve never lost sleep over a test in your life. Try again.”
“What do you want me to say, El? I’m in a slump. It happens.”
“It doesn’t happen to you. You don’t slump. You show up, you execute, you go home. That’s been your whole thing since bantams.” He leaned in, dropping his voice. “So either you’re sick, or someone’s in your head. Which one?”
The hum of the ice plant filled the silence. Across the rink, a puck rang off the crossbar.
“Neither,” I said.
“Right. So you’re just magically forgetting how to catch a pass?” He studied me for a beat, then jutted his chin toward the opposite boards. “I heard Hastings pulled Zotov into the athletic office. Couple days ago. Word is it wasn’t friendly.”
My grip on my hockey stick tightened. The tape bit into my glove.
“And you’ve been a ghost ever since,” Elliot continued. “If he’s leaning on you to lie for him, you tell me.”
“He’s not leaning on me.”
“Then look at me and say it.”
I turned my head and met his stare. “He’snotleaning on me.”
Elliot held my gaze. Whatever he found in my eyes made him exhale hard through his nose. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But if you don’t pull your head out of your ass before the booster dinner tonight, Coach is going to notice. And Coach noticing means Dad gets a phone call. You want that conversation?”
“No.”
“Then fix it.” He clapped my shoulder, the gesture landing somewhere between captain and brother. “And eat something. You’re pale.”
I let out a slow breath. “Can I skip it?”
“Not a chance. Coach wants the entire roster there.” He tapped my shin guards once again with his stick. “The scholarship guys have to play grateful for the cameras, and we,” he gestured between us, “have to go shake hands with the guys writing the checks. So, pull it together.”
Nodding once, I pushed off the glass and fought my own edges the whole way back to the center circle.
Getting dressed after practice just meant putting on a different kind of uniform. Yet buttoning up a tailored shirt in the locker room felt exhausting. These alumni events were pure politics, and keeping up a polite act for another three hours sounded like a nightmare.
I spent the entire ride over in the passenger seat of Elliot’s car, staring out the window at the passing streetlights. Thankfully, Elliot kept quiet, letting go of the tension from practice earlier. But the silence in the vehicle only gave me more time to dread the rest of the night.
The wealthy donor’s house was massive and much too packed. The heat from too many bodies trapped in one living room hit me the second we walked in. Ignoring the clink of expensive glassware and the loud boom of forced laughter, I skipped the greeting line.
Instead, my eyes scanned the crowded space, looking past the suits and ties until they landed on Aleksey.
