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“It goes like this,” Colby said, maintaining a serious expression as he started singing. “Ford Barrett, I know you’re gonna tear it…open! And consume it, eat it all, and then you won’t fall…score some goals, I know you hate foals. Boom!”
“He hates baby horses?” Ross asked, his brow furrowed.
Colby gave him a solemn look. “He’s terrified of them. It’s not something he likes to talk about.”
“Oh, sorry.” Ross gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Mr. Barrett.”
I glared at Colby, who had just made up that dumbass song. It was our first game as a new team, and many of these guys, including Colby, had been in the old arena on the day of the explosion. Maybe we needed a little levity, but I wasn’t feeling any amusement. I was carrying about a thousand pounds on my shoulders.
“Sing it, son,” Colby said, giving Ross an expectant look. “Ford needs his snack.”
Ross’s cheeks reddened. “I have to sing it every time? Before every game?”
“Right.” Colby said it like it was a natural expectation for an intern. “You know hockey players have rituals, right?”
Ross nodded, took a deep breath, and repeated Colby’s song. He had no rhythm and his voice cracked at the end. My teammates were cutting up in the background, enjoying Colby’s gag.
“Thanks,” I said as he passed me the Reese’s cups, tearing into the package.
I took the first cup from its wrapper and bit into it, the sweet chocolate and salty peanut butter grounding me. I was with a new team and we were in a college locker room. But I was eating my usual pregame snack and I’d wear my lucky cup. I’d tape my stick the same way I always did. I could look at the end of my stick and see where I’d carved SMB—my mom’s initials. It was the first thing I did when I got a new stick, and it made it mine.
Being a team captain wasn’t new to me. I’d been the captain of my former team, the Minnesota Mammoths, for two years. I was levelheaded and did my best to lead by example. But leading members of a team that had survived a tragedy I hadn’t been around for was another thing entirely. I’d stared up at my bedroom ceiling for hours last night trying to come up with the right words to unite, inspire, and console my team.
Someone turned on music and the mood seemed to lighten a little bit. The first song wasn’t even over when Coach Maddox approached me and motioned me toward the locker room door.
Coach didn’t have an office near the locker room; his temporary office was on another part of the college campus. When I got out to the hallway, he led me to a huddle that included our team owner, Mila Pavlova, one of our assistant coaches, Zach Rawlings, and the head of security for the Coyotes, Andre Thompson.
Coach Rawlings’s expression was grim, and Mila’s wasn’t much better. We were about an hour out from game time. My stomach churned nervously as Mila spoke.
“Ford, the security team has alerted us that a man was spotted outside the arena with a backpack and he ran when a security guard approached him,” she said.
My blood ran cold, instinct telling me to get the hell out of there.
“Are we evacuating?” I asked.
Andre shook his head. “I don’t think we need to. We’ve kept a tight watch on who gets into this facility and they’ve all been through metal detectors. We have guards trying to track this guy down.”
I met Coach Maddox’s gaze, then Mila’s. With all the extra security in place, I hadn’t even considered having problems on opening night.
“With all due respect, someone could still do damage without bringing anything inside the building,” I said. “There could be something put in the landscaping or even a car.”
“I agree,” Coach said. “I think we should evacuate.”
Andre shook his head. “That would cause panic. If you’ll just hold tight for a few minutes and let us see what we can find out, I’d appreciate it. We’ve got surveillance footage we’re reviewing.”
The upcoming game was the last thing from my mind as I processed this information. I crossed my arms, considering for a few seconds.
“I think we have to tell the guys what’s happening,” I told my coaches. “It’s not right to keep it from them. I’ll encourage them to stay and let security do their work, but we can’t fault anyone who chooses not to stay.”
My head coach sighed and then nodded. “I hear you, Ford, but I can’t have guys leaving so close to game time. I think we need to either cancel the game and evacuate or stay until we get the all clear.”
“We can delay the game start,” I said. “And we need to let the Tampa coaches and players know, too.”
“What about the fans?” Mila asked. “Is it right to tell the players but not the fans?”
I shrugged. “Whether to tell the fans is a call for you guys to make.” I turned to Coach. “We need to get back in there.”
Andre shook his head. “I’m gonna ask you guys not to do that. We don’t want to create panic.”
