Page 259 of On His Team

Then she says, “I’m glad it won’t all disappear at once.”

I know exactly what she means. Benson. Hawthorne. Hockey. Me.

Maybe none of us are ready for all of it to change in the same week.

“It won’t,” I say.

She takes my hand and threads her fingers through mine.

By the time we leave for Vegas, the acceptance email already feels like it happened a month ago.

The Frozen Four takes over everything.

Monday is our last full practice at Camden. Tuesday morning, we fly.

Vegas looks like Vegas from the bus. Stanley points out three things nobody cares about. Owens takes pictures through the window. Some of the guys keep their eyes closed through it all.

When we get to the hotel, Coach and the other staff get our room assignments at the desk. They hand out keys to everyone and tell us what time we’re eating.

Mackey and I are on twelve. Stanley and Benson are on eleven. Percy is with Blue. We have forty minutes before we’re downstairs again.

Wednesday’s the day before, which means it’s all obligations. Breakfast at eight. Meeting at nine. There’s a media thing at eleven that four of us have to do, and I am one of them, which I’d been hoping to avoid. It turns out to be twenty minutes at a table with a microphone in front of me, answering questions from people who mostly want Benson Reeve.

One of them asks me what it’s like to be part of the first Camden team to get here in a decade.

“It’s good,” I answer.

He waits for more.

“We’ve got a hockey game tomorrow,” I say.

He writes that down like it’s something.

Practice is at two, and it’s the first time we’re on that ice.

The building’s enormous. It’s an NHL arena, and it’s built like one. The seats go up and up, and the sound of a puck in it during an empty practice goes off into somewhere that doesn’t send it back. The ice has the tournament logo at center, and both blue lines are painted with things I’ve never skated over before. We get forty minutes. It’s flow drills and touches and Percy facing about sixty shots.

Mackey and I do the thing behind the net that we’ve done before every game since November, and he doesn’t change his angle on me, because it’s the day before.

Coming off, he says, “It’s big.”

“Same size ice.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” I say.

Gianna lands, and she texts me right away.

Gianna: VEGAS BABY!

There’s a photo attached that is of her and the girls with the Welcome to Vegas airport sign. The same one I took with the team.

Gianna: Aspen has been reading Minnesota’s zone entries for four hours. FOUR HOURS on a plane.

Gianna: My parents are arriving at nine, and they already planned dinner.

Gianna: Where are you?