To say I don’t trust her is an understatement. After our brief truce on the boat, we’ve gone back to sniping at each other, much to my team captain’s dismay. Dash has warned me over and over not to let her get to me. I’m trying. I really am. Unfortunately, ignoring Aria is like ignoring my house being infested with rats—or one big, nosy, obnoxious rat.
Hours before the game, I head to the players’ lounge in the bowels of the arena. I have a question for my teammate Jakob Bang, or Banger as most of us call him. I find him snacking on the pregame spread laid out for us.
“Did Gardenia realize she was consorting with Icehawks public enemy number one yesterday?”
Jakob gives me a puzzled side-eye as if he doesn’t understand why I’m talking about Aria when we’re battling for a playoff spot with four games left. Fuck, I wonder why I’m doing it too. He sits back in his chair and sighs. “Yeah. I’m not thrilled about it either.”
“Aria’s probably looking for another way to infiltrate the team now that Shelby’s gone.” Shelby was the assistant for Mr. Barlowe, the team owner. She fed information to Aria about the team in exchange for cash and was fired for doing so. Shortly after, she went missing. I fear her abusive husband got pissed that the gravy train had ended. I don’t like what Shelby did, but I also feel sorry for her. Aria, not so much. In fact, not at all.
Banger shakes his head. “I guess Aria has a nephew on that team.”
“Aria with a kid? I would’ve thought the only kids around her would be cooking in her bubbling cauldron.” I give voice to my earlier opinion.
Jakob laughs in spite of himself. “I guess her sister died in an accident a few months ago, and she has custody.”
I sit back as if slapped. This piece of information shocks me. Aria comes across as a selfish, driven loner whose only interest is destroying lives and stepping on others in her mission to get to the top.
“Surprising, right?” Jakob grins and stands.
“Yeah. I feel sorry for the kid.”
My teammate shrugs. He’s clearly not interested in dishing out the dirt on Aria. Instead, he strolls toward the array of food and snacks set out on the long counter and adds more to his plate.
“You should put your energy into what you can control, rather than what you can’t.”
I jump, unaware we’d been overheard. Turning in my chair, I encounter Kirby standing behind me. He’s wearing his usual Kirby expression, which is a combination of contradictions, including a serious vibe, a wickedly dry sense of humor, and an uncanny ability to guess what others are thinking. He’s got his mysterious woo-woo going on, and I’m never sure how to take him. Kirby sees things the average person doesn’t. He claims his Salish heritage gives him insights the rest of us don’t have. I believe him. I’ve seen his abilities in action multiple times.
“In other words, I need to concentrate on hockey.”
“Absolutely. Right now, hockey is all that matters.”
“Hockey is life.”
“Yeah, life.” He shoots me a rare smile before leaving me to my thoughts.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. He’s right, but I’m having an increasingly hard time ignoring her constant jabs and bullshit regarding me. Only it’s not all bullshit. I haven’t been scoring, nor have I contributed to my teammates’ goals. I’m truly in a slump and can’t shake myself out of it. Slumps are common in hockey, and for me they don’t usually last this long. My inability to shake off this one is directly attributed to Aria’s constant roasting. After all, at this level, belief in yourself is everything, and she’s sowing doubt.
I’m a professional. I cannot allow the opinions of one reporter to affect my game, yet they are, and I don’t know how to counteract her negative influence. Nor do I understand why my thick skin is unusually thin when it comes to her. She’s nothing but a hack working for a crappy online sports news site. They’re more interested in digging up dirt than honest reporting, and she’s right in the middle of it. From this point forward, I will not allow her to live rent-free in my head. I repeat my vow in my native tongue just to give it more meaning.
Hours later, the team squeaks out a win, but my play is an unmitigated disaster. I missed a couple easy shots. My passes were off, creating multiple opportunities for Colorado, including one breakaway score. Fortunately, Dash was hot tonight and scored a hat trick, three goals in one game. Our captain stepped up when we needed him most. I want to be that guy who comes through in a pinch, but currently I’m about as valuable out there as the team mascot.
I should be thinking about the next game and how I’m going to raise myself out of this slump, but I’m not. My earlier vow caves to the pressure, and once again I’ve given Aria a new lease in my head. She’ll roast me in her next column. I’m sick thinking about it. I’m even sicker with the realization that I’ve allowed her to negatively affect my game over and over. Tonight’s only one more example.
Vancouver also wins tonight, which leaves us tied for that final playoff spot. This battle is going to go down to the wire.
“Drake, I need to see you in my office when you’re dressed.” Coach stands in the doorway of the locker room. He’s using my team nickname, which should be a good sign, but it’s not. By his tone, I’m about to get my assed chewed out or, even worse, benched. No player likes being benched, especially with a playoff spot on the line.
I go through the motions of showering, changing, and putting on my suit. The boys keep a safe distance. Hockey players are a superstitious bunch, and it’s as if they fear my bad luck might wear off on them. I can’t blame them. I’d do the same.
Dash finally approaches me as I’m trudging toward the door. “Everybody goes through times when nothing goes in the net. You’ll shake it off.”
“I know.” But do I? I’m not sure I can shake this off. I’m a fucking mess, and it’s all Aria’s fault. Though, if I’m being honest, it’s really my fault for granting her the power to affect my play.
Dash gives me a wry smile, but I see the worry in his eyes. Dash, Trent, and I have anchored the first line since the Icehawks played their first game. Right now, there are better choices for the first line based on performance. Jakob Bang, for example, has been on fire this past month. He’s earned a point in almost every game. The Icehawks also have a couple talented rookies who are biting at the veterans’ heels. I need to get my shit together. It’s been weeks since I’ve scored a goal. I don’t recall ever having such a long scoring drought before. I’m sure Aria will dig up the facts and report on it.
I knock on Coach’s partially open door and enter. He motions me toward a plastic chair sitting in the corner. I take a seat and stare at my hands. I’m embarrassed at my performance of late and want nothing more than to get this conversation over with.
“Drakos, what’s going on with you?” asks Coach Jefferson, known as Jeffs by the team.
