I give her a rueful look.
“I know. I know you better than that.” She holds her hands up in defense. “I just want you to have fun.”
“I am having fun. But we also have practice tomorrow, and we all can’t show up sluggish.” I direct the last part to the circle and am immediately met with a mixture ofboosandshut ups. “Hey, sorry I want to win a championship this year! Thought you all did too.”
It was meant to be light-hearted teasing, but it sends a somber wave through the circle of my teammates. My gut twists, and it’s not from the alcohol.
Close. We weresoclose.
We could taste it last year. The biggest goal any of us could hope to achieve on this team.Mybiggest dream for my collegiate athletic career. A Frozen Four Championship.
And I blew it for us.
5
Lennon
The distinctpingof a puck clashing into the crossbar echoes through my ears, and I scramble to locate where it lands. But before I can get an eye on it, Austen is already celebrating, and the puck is buried in the net behind me.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath and skate the crease, dragging my stick along the way in the ritualistic manuever that comes after every goal scored. It’s a reset of sorts, as I try to channel the failure into refocusing.
It’s the third goal I’ve let past in this scrimmage. We’re only a week away from our first game, and if this is a sign, I’m fucked.
Charlotte, one of the defenseman on my practice team today, taps her gloves against my shoulder pads as she skates past. She shoots me a small, encouraging smile, but I’m not in the mood to return it.
Coach Packley blows her whistle. “Take five, and we’ll do one more ten-minute scrimmage before calling it today.”
I don’t need to be told twice. Shucking off my mask, I leave it on top of the net and skate over to the boards where thecoach who is supposed to be helping me currently lounges on the bench, fiddling with his phone.
My blades spray ice as I stop, harsher than usual, and I glare at Coach Holloway.
“Can I help you?” he asks in a bored, monotone voice that further aggravates my already exposed nerves while he doesn’t even bother to look up.
“Yeah, that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? Isn’t that your job?”
He slowly looks up from his phone but doesn’t appear bothered by my attitude. I’ve never talked to a coach like this, but he’s barely been trying to help me or Grace.
“And your job is to stop pucks from going in that net.” He tilts his head toward the empty goal. “Isn’t it?”
A crushing wave of anger rises quickly to my cheeks. “At least I’m trying to do mine.”
“Who says I’m not trying?”
“Are you?” I lean against my stick.
He sits up and leans forward with his elbows against the boards. The veins in his forearms flex with the movement, and he pins me with a dark stare. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to help me! I want to be better. I want to win. Coach said she brought you here to help, but so far you’ve done nothing but sit on your ass and ignore everything that goes on at practice.” I can’t believe I’m talking to a coach like this, but I can’t help it.
He sighs heavily, as if I’m burdening him by asking that he does his job. Why did he even accept it if he doesn’t want to be a coach? The question is on the tip of my tongue when Coach Maver walks over to us.
“Everything alright over here?” she asks, eyes dancing back and forth between the two of us. I must not be hiding my frustration very well because she frowns. It’s not like me to showthis sort of emotion on the ice. I’m usually better at keeping my cool.
But seeing Coach Holloway’s utter lack of interest in something that is so important to me is already wearing thin, even after only a few weeks.
“All good, Alice,” he says simply, and it takes every single ounce of muscle control I have to keep my jaw hinged shut.All good? Is he joking?
Coach Maver looks to me. “Don’t sweat it too much, Lennon. It’s just a scrimmage. I know you’ll be ready by game time.”
