Page 250 of On His Team

For about an hour, that feels enormous. By the time we get back to the hotel, everybody is talking about Saturday. There’s barely enough time to be relieved before the next game starts taking up all the space again. Friday disappears into team meetings for the guys, dinner with my parents, and everybody pretending not to talk about Boston College every five minutes.

Then Saturday comes, and Boston College looks like the number-one seed for eleven straight minutes. They’re fast, but not the way Denver was fast. Denver came in waves through the middle. BC simply does not give the puck away, ever, and every time Camden gets it, they have it back inside nine seconds.

Camden spent the first period in their own end. Percy faces fourteen shots in twenty minutes, and I feel every single one of them somewhere under my ribs. Everything happens so fast. I keep shouting, “Get it out! Get it out!”

I watch Benson because he dominates the ice like always. My parents are on the edge of their seats, and I know they’re proud because I am. That’s my big brother down there, and he’s not cocky or overly confident. He’s good at what he does.

BC scores and our entire section goes flat. My dad says something under his breath. My mother grabs his arm and doesn’t let go.

I’m out of my seat when Theo gets in the slot off a scramble. He shoots it, and it goes in. He ties it.

The building’s about sixty percent BC and forty percent Camden, and for ninety seconds, our forty percent is louder.

Then Blue scores from the left circle, off his own rebound, into a net with about four inches of room in it. He doesn’t celebrate — he puts one glove in the air and skates to the bench with his head down. Melly is somewhere behind me screaming his name at a volume I did not know she had.

2-1 Camden, over the one-seed.

Aspen turns around in her seat and says, “They’re not going to hold this,” and I tell her to quiet that mouth of hers.

She’s right, obviously.

BC tie it four minutes into the third.

And then Benson scores off a pass Stanley threads through two people. My brother puts it in and skates into the boards with both arms up and gets buried by four guys.

I’m screaming loudly enough that a man two rows in front turns around.

“THAT’S MY BROTHER!”

My mom has both hands over her mouth. My father is standing up with arms in the air, proud as ever.

3-2.

And Boston College ties it with two and a half minutes left, because they’re good. Really good. But I have faith that my brother and the Ermington bloodline will bring us the win.

3-3.

Overtime is twenty minutes, and the next goal ends it.

Whoever scores goes to the Frozen Four and whoever doesn’t goes home. No committee this time. No Sunday. No second chances.

My mom can’t sit down. She stands at the end of the row with her arms folded through the whole intermission and most of what follows. My dad hasn’t made a sound since the third period.

Lucy’s got both hands pressed together in front of her mouth like she’s praying.

Aspen is watching the ice like she can name exactly what they have to do to win. I catch Stanley looking at her. She gestures at him, and I think whatever they just communicated might make a difference. Then Stanley blows her a kiss, and her shoulders drop. I’m surprised when she does it back.

I keep my eyes on the ice, and I feel physically sick to my stomach because I don’t want this to be their last game. I look at my brother, but I keep glancing at Laurens.

He’s out there a lot. Fuller’s shortened everything, so Rowan and Mackey are going every third shift. He clears one off the wall at about four minutes that gets half our section up. Then he breaks something up in front of Percy that I don’t fully see, and Aspen makes a noise about it.

He comes off, drinks water, and is back out ninety seconds later. He looks tired. I don’t know how I can tell that from nine rows up with a helmet in the way, but I can.

Then in overtime, Stanley wins a puck on the wall. I see him win it, but I don’t see anything after that, because there’s a scramble at the top of the crease with about six bodies in it and the puck is somewhere in the middle of all of them.

Then the net moves.

It comes off its moorings, and the light goes on at the same moment, and for one entire second, I have absolutely no idea what just happened.