“Mom,” a voice I’d know anywhere slices through the cold air, and I spin on my heel. Noah jogs the last few steps toward me, waving a sheet of paper in his hand like it’s a golden ticket. “I made it!” He beams at me with a smile so wide, I take a second glance at it.
For a second, I just blink. “You made the team?”
“Not the team, but I made it to the next round!” He passes the paper to me. “They scheduled me back tomorrow at ten. I have school, but there’s no way I can miss this.”
My hand goes to my mouth. “Noah, I, uh, I’m speechless, you made it?”
He beams the brightest smile he’s had in forever. “I can’t believe it, especially since I didn’t play that well.”
“I believe it,” I say, steadying my voice. “They are lucky to get you.”
He throws his arms around me, squeezing hard. “Thanks, Mom.”
I blink fast, trying not to let tears blur the moment. I sort of want to tell him I met the team owner, and I handed him garbage like an idiot. Maybe it will lighten the mood, but what if Noah gets embarrassed? He doesn’t need to know everything I do. Instead of saying something, I hug him back, tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”
At a beat, he pulls away and practically runs to the car. I follow behind, still floating somewhere between shock and joy. Inside the car, he takes the driver’s seat, talking a mile a minute. It’s like he’s too hyper to sit still, and he drums his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with whatever song is playing faintly through the speakers. His window is cracked enough to let the cold in, pinking his cheeks even more. He’s glowing. “I mean, okay, yeah, I fell,” he says with a laugh, “but maybenobody saw that, because they never said anything. That coach, uh, the one in the blue jacket? He gave me this little nod. You know what I mean?”
I smile, trying to mirror his energy, but my stomach knots.
“Did you see that one kid try to cut me off?” Noah continues, animated. “He was fast, but I got around him. The coach definitely noticed how fast I was at that time. You saw that, right?”
“I saw that,” I confirm softly. “You’re always the fastest guy out there.”
His eyebrows hike. “Right? I felt it, you know? Like I belong out there.”
My heart lurches, as I can’t help but allow it to swell with pride.
This is my son.
He’s almost got a shot at his dreams.
It’s surreal, and I turn toward the window. The defrosters are on, melting the frost into little rivers across the glass. He’s still talking, lost in the thrill of the moment. “Like I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but this could be it, right?”
I nod, because it’s true.
“And if I make it through this next cut…” He exhales, full of wonder. “Everything could change.”
I swallow hard, because he’s right.
Everything could change.
My phone buzzes on my lap, and I drop my gaze to see an email notice.
Email: School Counselor – Re: Noah Miller Hockey Eligibility
My stomach sinks before I even open it.
Hi Ms. Miller, I wanted to reach out about Noah’s academic standing. His GPA has dropped belowthe eligibility line for extracurricular participation. Specifically, math is the concern.
In the past, Mr. Brooks allowed retakes if there is a specific reason. However, he’s not just going to offer it. We’ll need to schedule a meeting to allow Noah to show his seriousness. I’m happy to coordinate with Mr. Brooks (his math teacher).
My chest tightens.
I glance at Noah, who's drumming his fingers against the wheel like he’s already imagining his name on a jersey. My heart fractures. I don’t think Granite Ice is concerned about his high school GPA, but they will be concerned if he’s not holding up his responsibilities and gets kicked off his high school team.
I type back quickly.
Me:Would it be possible to offer extra credit? This is really important to him.
