Page 226 of On His Team

I know him. Not completely. I don’t think anybody gets completely known. But enough to understand that calm is not the same thing as not caring.

Lucy twists noodles around her fork. “What are you worried about?”

I look down at my bowl. “That it ends.”

The answer surprises me because it isn’t really about tomorrow. Not entirely.

“I know they could still get an NCAA spot if they lose,” I say. “I know that. But every game feels like somebody is standing next to a light switch now.”

Lucy’s expression shifts.

“Like everything is normal until it isn’t. They practice, travel, play, complain about video, whatever. Then one horn goes and suddenly there might not be another game.”

She nods slowly. “That’s exactly what it feels like.”

I think about Senior Night. The way Rowan looked back at the rink before we walked out. His grad application sitting somewhere with people who do not know him. The fact that this season is ending no matter what happens.

Sunday afternoon, I stop pretending I know how to sit through hockey normally.

By the third period, Camden is up three-one, and I am standing behind the couch because every time I sit down, Penn State gets possession.

“I don’t think you’re controlling that,” Mara tells me.

“I’m not taking chances.”

“There is no physical mechanism by which your ass touching the couch affects hockey in another state.”

“Then why did they score when I sat down?”

Mara looks at Lucy. “Help.”

Lucy does not take her eyes off the television. “She might have a point.”

“Thank you.”

The last four minutes are awful.

Penn State throws everything forward. Percy makes one save through traffic, then another. A puck gets through and hits somebody in front. Camden clears it. Penn State comes back.

I am holding the top edge of the couch so hard my fingers hurt.

“Come on.”

Forty seconds.

Blue gets the puck toward the wall but can’t get it out.

Twenty-eight.

Rowan gets there. He doesn’t force it up the boards. He turns back, takes the extra half second, and sends it behind the net where Mackey has space.

Second scan.

I recognize it before I even think the words.

Camden clears.

The clock runs down.