“You’re welcome.” Her cheeks dimple as she presses her lips together to keep the laugh in.
“Okay everybody. It’s almost game time. Are you ready to kick some ass?”
Cheers echo around the dressing room, and that warm feeling of having my team at my back fills me up, pushing away all the doubts that were creeping in on me. I’m working too hard right now. I’m exhausted from all the responsibility tugging at me from every direction, but I’ve got these ladies at my back. I’ll be fine.
We hit the ice hard to a chorus of cheers from the fans as cold air stings my cheeks. The crowd’s energy pulses through the arena louder than ever before. It’s been incredible watching the turnout grow with every game this season.
Sure, my social media might’ve helped boost visibility, but the school’s PR team deserves credit too. And honestly? We’ve earned it. Our lineup is stacked with talent, grit, and just enough chaos to keep things interesting. It’s just good hockey.
Still, we have to prove it. Every. Single. Time.
Minor mistakes are majorly scrutinized, and we’re held to a different standard than the men’s team. It’s not fair, but there’s no time for fair on the ice.
Tension is thick in the air as I line up at center. Velamir is the captain of Penn State’s team, and she’s good. Sees the ice two steps ahead. Like I heard she’s had scouts from the upcoming pro women’s league eyeing her for a coveted spot. Could just be rumors.
The ref drops the puck.
She catches and drives, stickhandling through traffic, but Penn State’s defense collapses fast. She gets locked in a tussle, hemmed in by the boards. The puck shimmies free and is snapped up on the rebound.
We reset. I swing back into position, skating hard, tracking the play.
Sab and Jenna collapse around the net. Penn State fires one from the top of the circle. It clangs off the post like a bell. They scramble for the rebound, tossing it back and forth, but can’t get a clean look.
Then Sab swoops in slick and fast, threading her stick between a pair of skates and lifting the puck free. She rockets a pass across the zone.
Right to me.
It’s perfect. I take off, legs churning, stick low. The rush is on. I feel their defenders closing the gap, but there’s no clean shot. Not yet. I pivot and dish it to Maisie, who one-times it to Beth.
I loop behind the net, shadow-quick, hoping for the rebound.
Beth shoots. Their goalie blocks it with the blade of her stick. It pops loose. Right to me.
Instinct takes over. I drop my shoulder, square up, and send it top shelf, high glove side.
The puck slams into the back of the net, and it lights up.
We crash into each other, celebrating with gloved high-fives and shoulder bumps, helmets clacking in a pile-up of joy. Maisie grins at me, then tips her chin toward the stands.
And that’s when I see them.
A mix of emotions fills me at the sight of what must be the entire guys’ team in the stands. They’re in full jersey. On their feet, clapping and whistling.
It should feel good. And it does. But it also feels... strategic.
They’ve never come out like this. Not all of them. Not without an angle. With the sponsorship deal on the line, I can’t help but wonder if this is theater.
Now that this sponsorship thing is hanging in the air between us, they’re putting on a show. But snagging the donor will benefit us as much as or more than them, so it’s for the best. At least Beau’s taking this thing seriously.
Knowing I should step up and match them gesture for gesture, I break off from my team and skate toward the glass. I slam my stick against the glass once and raise it up to point at him.
Beau lifts both arms, then spins around to show me the back of his jersey. And that’s when I see it.
The name embroidered in bright yellow against the purple background is not his.
It’s mine.
WILDER, stitched in gold in bright contrast to the deep purple. For everyone to see.
