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Eloise
We like to live dangerously.
Also, my dad made them. He’s cheering for you too!
A photo comes in of her dad, wearing a Comets jersey (Burke’s number—33, I’ll forgive him for that later) and he’s holding up a ‘Number One’ finger. I’m ashamed to think of the way I acted the first time I met Mick Hart. He’s posing for a photo to cheer me on, and for the first time I wonder if Eloise was onto something when she said letting people in is the only way to make this feel like home.
I stare at the picture . . . and my mood shifts.
I can feel my attitude change.
I can visualize what’s about to happen.
I’m ready for the game.
Gray
I’ll call when the game is over.
Eloise
Good luck with the hockey!
*crazy face emoji*
*hockey stick emoji*
I click my phone off when Burke glances over at me. “What is that expression on your face? Are you . . . smiling?”
“No.” I stuff the phone in my duffel and turn away from him.
“I thought you’d be a better liar.” Burke walks away, chuckling to himself, and I know I’m not fooling him.
I sit down on the bench and turn my attention to Coach Turnrose, who starts in on the game plan we’ve been practicing for the past couple days.
I feel loose. Relaxed. Excited to get out there.
Knowing Eloise and Scarlett are watching is the exact thing I need.
And we absolutely destroy the other team.
It’s like I can see where other players are going to be before they get there. Four steals, three assists, three goals.
We win 6-5.
When it’s all over, and I’m sitting at the table in front of the reporters, they point out this change. One even says, “It almost seemed like you were having fun out there.”
And while I know the answer, there’s no way I’m saying it. Instead, I say, “Guess I just needed some time to adjust to a new team.”
“You’re usually pretty intent on scoring, but tonight, you passed up a shot to send it to Burke for the game-winning goal,” one of the reporters says. “It was unexpected. Have the Comets turned you into a different kind of player?”
“Burke was open,” I say. “He had a better shot.”
I get up from the table, as if to signal that I’m done because I am. I’m riding the high from the game, but these questions still feel stupid, and I don’t feel like answering any more. I hear Coach start talking as I push the door open and head out into the hallway. I pull my phone out, and I’m about to call Eloise when I hear someone behind me say my name.
I freeze.
I recognize the voice.
