“What’s the problem here?You not taking this seriously?”
“I am!I swear, it’s just—” He huffed, looked around the empty bleachers for any excuse that wouldn’t be as bad as the truth but found none.“I don’t want to hurt anyone.And yes, I know they’re dummies.It’s hard to get out of that mentality.”
Coach Mel raised her eyebrows.“You don’t want to hurt anyone?”
He nodded.
“In hockey?”
He winced but nodded again.
“Look, Abernathy, if you don’t wanna hurt anyone, go find yourself a rec league or something.This is the big leagues.You can’t play games in this league being scared of shit like that.Everyone knows the risks when they step onto the ice.I don’t want to see anyone go down, but my priority is my players.If word gets out you won’t check, you’re gonna be a sitting duck out there.You’ve gotten away with it so far because you’re big, but it only takes one to notice before they all will.”
That was unfortunately true: no one but Barczyk had noticed, and thankfully he hadn’t until he was on the Riveters.Evan was pretty sure he’d have told everyone on the Gliders if he’d figured it out last season, and then Evan would’ve gotten a lot more than an injured shoulder.
Coach Mel watched that compute for him before continuing.“I need you to see this kind of stuff”—she gestured to the surrounding ice, his teammates and the drills and the ever-continuingthudas dummies hit the boards or the ice—“as your top priority right now.This is gonna keep you from getting hurt, and it’s gonna get you the puck a lot more.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We’re gonna keep these practices going for you and a couple of the rookies who are on the opposite end of the spectrum and need to learn to play a clean fucking game for once in their goddamned lives.Now, I know you’re not a defenseman, so you’re not my problem in games, but I don’t want liabilities.So, I’m giving you a little homework.We start the season at home against Boston.They’ve got a lot of big, tough guys in the lineup.I need you to make five hits this game.”
“Five!?”He balked at the suggestion.“Couldn’t we start with, like,one?”
She considered.“Every goal you score, we can decrease that by one.You scoring four goals?”
“Against Boston?Not likely?—”
“Then five,” she said dismissively.“Five good, clean hits.You take a penalty for one, that’s on me, but at this rate, I’ll count it as a step in the right direction.You got it?”
Like he had a choice.“Yes, ma’am.”
“Atta boy.Get back in line.Gotta get those reps in.”
As he skated to the back of the line, he caught a glimpse of Barczyk racing around the back of the net and then laying a huge shoulder slam into a dummy, wedging it against the boards before they both flopped to the ground.The dummy landed on top of Barczyk, earning laughter and stick taps from the boys.
“Barczyk!”Coach Mel called in exasperation.“That’s boarding!Every time!”
“Just having some fun,” he said with a huge grin.“Gotta get it outta my system before game night.”He pushed the dummy off him, stood up, and then carefully put the thing back in place.He patted it on the back like it was a good friend before skating off.
A menace for sure…but Evan begrudgingly admired his no-fear approach.If Evan could get even a smidge of that confidence…too bad it came with a colossal ego and a blasé attitude Evan wanted nothing to do with.
“Nice hit,” he deadpanned as Barczyk stopped behind him in line.“Really showed him who’s boss.”
Barczyk just laughed, unbothered.“I did, right?Teach him to think twice before he joins the equipment for a hockey team.”
Evan looked away so Barczyk wouldn’t see him smile.
7
The one thingEvan had learned over the years: home openers wereloud.He put on his best suit (navy with a yellow tie and pocket square), slicked back his hair as best he could, and resigned himself to The Experience.
The Riveters went all out for opening night.The Experience included the players arriving at a red carpet outside the main entrance to the arena.Fans crowded behind velvet ropes, taking pictures, begging for autographs, or cheering on the team.It wasn’t quite as overwhelming as it’d been his first season, when he’d felt blinded by the lights and deafened by the sheer volume.Even so, his couple of years had only gained him the composure to sign anything handed to him and to remember to smile while he did.He even took a few selfies with people wearing ABERNATHY 21 jerseys.It still shocked him that people would pay money to wear his name.
With their roster, he was surprised anyone remembered he was on the team at all.
Evan had almost reached the entrance when he heard some mock boos behind him.He turned and saw Riley Barczyk getting out of a limo, his hair done up in an exaggerated mohawk of messy curls.He wore a black suit with a deep green vest and a golden tie that glittered as cameras flashed, the arms of his suit jacket a touch too tight, making his biceps bulge.He swaggered onto the red carpet looking more like a boxer coming to a match, though given his history, that wasn’t too far off.
There were a few people holding out jerseys from his former teams for him to autograph, and there were a dozen homemade signs held up.Things like “BARCZYK #1 GOON!”and “BARCZYK PIM COUNTER: ∞” plus one notable poster that had a sketch of Barczyk holding a giant wrench and whacking members of the Boston Militia.Barczyk laughed and signed them all, fistbumping people and taking pictures where he pretended to punch people.Evan watched as a teenage girl absolutely swooned when he did this for her, tears in her eyes and her parents filming the whole thing.
