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He shakes it off and glances at me.
I feel his eyes meet mine, but maybe I’m imagining it. He could be looking anywhere. He puts his helmet back down and knocks both posts with his stick before crouching down into position.
“You can sit down now, Lenny.” Alex grabs my wrist.
I didn’t even realize I was still standing.
I sit on the edge of my seat as we watch the puck drop.
One, two shots are blocked.
Carter clears the puck to the other side and skates after it. It’s caught by the goalie and sent right back. Holt switches with Carter Before it can get past the blue line.
Greg comes out to switch with another player.
Holt catches the puck with his stick and heads back to Boston’s side. He shoots but there’s a player on his heels and it goes wide.
Number 25, the new king of Boston, takes the puck and breaks away at high speed. The kid is fast. No one is able to catch up with him.
Shit, shit, shit.
This is it.
I’m standing clenching my hands in front of my chest. I can hear people behind me yelling to sit, but I don’t care.
Everyone stands around me to see.
My heart is thumping out of my chest as everything else slows down. My palms are sweaty as if I’m the one in that crease waiting for the puck to come.
Nick backs in, eyeing the player.
Number 25, Pelvsky, fakes and then winds back. Greg is cutting in but he won’t make it for the block.
Instinctively, I shut my eyes tight. I can’t watch.
A second passes as the arena erupts.
“Miller! Miller! Miller!” People shout around me.
Alex is shaking my shoulder.
He got it.
I open my eyes just as Nick lets the puck fall from his hand after the whistle blows. He saved the shot!
Layla and Bridget are jumping and screaming and the guys on the bench are slapping their sticks on the board. The excitement is over the top as if it’s a championship game, but the save was just as big.
I look up for the replay. It was a double fake and Nick caught it. A perfect save. The scene from Dead Poets Society plays on the screen, “O’ Captain, My Captain.”
A few players are hugging him, but it’s quickly broken up.
The game isn’t over yet.
Thirty seconds to go. Luca is out in ten.
He’s anxious and ready to pounce once the door opens, but the crowd has resolved that the game will go to overtime. There’s barely enough time for either team to make a play.
Puck dropped and It’s won by Drexton. Passed to Greg. Greg holds it, three, two, one. He passes it right towards the penalty box, Luca jumps out just as his time ends finding the puck.
