Goalies have to be the best multitaskers in the world with everything we have to do on the ice.
Costy switches sides, shifting to the right of the net this time, and I track him while also seeing Burnsy pop out and get open. Costy gives it to him, and Burnsy swings.
Not this time. What a dumb play. It was so easy to read.
Burnsy raises his stick into the air and cheers along with his team, and confusion whips my body around.
What the hell? The puck’s in the net.
“How the hell?” I mutter, genuinely so goddamn confused.
Immediately, I check my gear, looking for a gigantic hole from Burnsy shooting the puck through me with his newfound superpowers. But I don’t find anything.
Something catches my attention on the side of the ice. I glance up at an aggressively waving Shay, who ushers me over.
Oh-kay.
“One second, Coach,” I tell Carrington and kick off for the bench, gliding over and sneaking a quick drink on the way.
Shay’s eyes are going to bulge out of her head with excitement as I reach them, resting my arms on the board.
“What’s up?”
She widens her arms, lifting her elbows to the sides. “Look, you aren’t sealing the bars off. You’re there, but you’re notthere. You left a gap up by your shoulder and in your five-hole. He’s going to penetrate that every time. You need to tighten up.”
Fire burns in her eyes, little specks of gold swirling like starved flames. She’s serious, and she’s right, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make a joke about how that entire sentence sounded.
“Please don’t talk about Burnsy penetrating my five-hole, okay? My five-hole is plenty tight. Many have said so.” I scoff, pretending to be super offended.
She rolls her eyes and purses her lips, looking up like she’s asking God to smite me. “You’re so stupid.”
“Shay,” Andy scolds her, but even he can’t hide the smile on his face.
Shay’s face falls, and she turns to Andy, annoyance in her brows. “He’s being dumb. What else should I call him?”
Reaching up, I tap her arms, stealing her attention back to me and letting my face show genuine seriousness. She’s not a joke, and I don’t want her to think her advice is anything but real to me.
I trust her judgment through and through.
“Tighten my seams? Got it. Thanks, Coach.”
“Y-you’re …” She struggles to keep the anger in her voice as she crosses her arms and tips her chin up. “You’re welcome.”
Pushing away from the boards, I skate back to my net, a lightness in my chest.
“All right, tighten up, MacArthur,” I whisper to myself once I settle between the pipes. “Tighten up.”
Turns out, she’s as right as ever. When the guys enter my zone again, Burnsy goes for the same shot, and I push further over than I feel I need to. But this time, I stop it, catching the puck as it bounces off my left shoulder.
Lifting it in the air toward the bench, I nod at my goalie coaches in gratitude. Shay sees my game play so well, so easily. I’ve had coaches over the years who didn’t know how to work with me. I don't know if I’m hard to predict or talk to, but Andy and now Shay are the only ones I need. Sorry to Hunter, who just left on maternity leave. But Huang really likes working with her so I’m sure she’ll be all right.
We continue to scrimmage and run a few drills before time runs out and we’re practically kicked off the ice by the Penguins staff. Shay and Andy are gone when we leave the ice, probably analyzing video of us and the Penguins.
After a quick body shower, I get dressed and check my phone, finding a message from JD.
JD: Coffee date with the boys, remember? Hurry your ass up.
I know they’re probably already in the car, so I quickly get dressed, grab what I need, and rush out of the locker room hallway, throwing the door open.
