FOUR
Axel
Furious. Coach can be furious. So can everyone else.
After Coach finishes scolding me, Troy joins me.
“What the hell was that?” Troy asks.
“An interview.”
“Dude. That’s going to go viral.”
Something cold spreads in my stomach, but I shake my head. “I was being polite.”
Troy studies me. “What happened between you two?”
“Not your business.”
The thing is, I don’t know what happened between us either.
One day I stopped mattering to Enzo. He stopped answering my phone calls and our scheduled FaceTimes.
It’s fine.
I don’t care.
The good thing is, now I know who he is and I can act accordingly. And when the world sees how badly Enzo and I play together, they’ll understand my concerns.
I’ll seem prescient.
I avoid Enzo when I see him in the tunnel, and I avoid making eye contact when we get onto the ice.
The crowd murmurs and applauds in its normal way and the bright lights and music play loudly, but I know better.
This game is going to be embarrassing.
I wish I’d texted my parents not to bother watching.
Guess they have to be disappointed sometime. Even winning streaks are bound to end after ten years.
I should have gone into goaltending like Troy. What I wouldn’t give for a huge helmet that covers my face.
Maybe Troy is in the habit of spouting off self-help type advice, like he’s our own personal skating Buddha, but he doesn’t get it: Enzo and I are enemies.
And the thing about enemies is, they don’t play on the same team.
People clap politely when Enzo is introduced to the crowd, and I scowl. The crowd should be roaring and clapping wildly. Enzo is one of the best hockey players in the country, and now he’s a Blizzard. Is his lackluster welcome because of my impromptu interview?
Not that this will go well, of course.
But they should still be thrilled, at least in the pre-losing stage of the game. Enzo’s stats are unreal.
I glance at him. His face is pale, his lips in a tight line. His dark hair curls from his helmet, and his chiseled cheeks catch the bright lights of the arena. There’s a reason luxury brands are crazy about him. His face is in every airport duty free store.
“You okay?” Vinnie asks.
Vinnie has never asked me that before on the ice.
