Prologue
FIFTEEN MONTHS AGO
Elliot
I’m late. Again.
I was doing so well to keep on schedule today, too. So well, in fact, that I had an hour to spare before I needed to leave, so I rewarded my rare punctuality excellence with a quick game ofFortnite. Except when the alarm I’d set on my phone as a reminder went off mid-Battle Royale round, I snoozed it, then forgot I was supposed to leave, and started up another game.
Okay, maybe it was like three more games. And I didn’t even win once. Double bummer.
Luckily, I realized soon enough, meaning I’monlyforty-five minutes late, but now I’m hitting every single red light between my apartment and the arena. Becauseof coursethe traffic light gods would punish me like this.
As I head down Madison, I curse the traffic and the lights, and the Mercury retrograde, even though it ended a month ago. I read that it impacted Leos, and I’m a Leo, therefore, it’s all Mercury’s fault.
When I’m three blocks away, Coach Harris’s words from yesterday begin to play on a loop in my brain.
“Don’t be late, Elliot. It’s our first opportunity to thank the sponsors and long-standing season ticket holders. They will want to see Chicago’s starting goaltender ahead of the new season. You don’t want to make a bad impression with them by not showing up on time.”
And here I am,notshowing up on time. Ugh. Why am I like this? They’re going to be so disappointed with me.
My palms are a slippery, sweaty mess when I finally reach the arena where today’s event is being held. The team hosts the Chicago Thunder family day every September. It’s a closed event, and it’s usually a fun-filled day, but I’m already feeling tense.
I throw my car into the first available parking spot and jump out. The arena’s parking lot has been taken over by pop-up tents and stalls by local vendors. Black, red, and white bunting hangs in the air throughout the cordoned-off area, giving it an almost carnival vibe. Music pumps a catchy tune from a deejay set near the main doors. It’s loud, but not loud enough that it makes my skin itch.
I scan the space in front of me and wonder if this thing has even started yet. There aren’t many people here, or maybe it has started and thisisit. I guess there’s a chance it’s on a smaller scale than it was last year. I’m not going to make a fuss because crowds stress me out, but if thisisit, then there’s no way I’m going to be able to stealth my way in. Everyone will notice I’m late, and Coach Harris will give me his disappointed glare, and I hate when he does that. It reminds me of when I was a kid and my teachers would scowl at me for not getting the math equations correct after they explained it to me seventeen hundred times.
I don’t do math. That’s what calculators are for. Or the internet.
My chest starts to tighten as panic sets in at the idea of disappointing everyone. I pull out my phone with shaky fingers to text my twin brother. Blaine has covered for me since we were kids, even going as far as telling that mean old math teacher he ate my homework when in reality, I had accidentally dropped it in a puddle, and touching wet paper makes my arms want to retreat into my torso like a turtle’s head retreating into its shell. The texture is all wrong.
I’m late, but I don’t want them to be mad at me so can we pretend that you made me late? Like I had to go and turn your oven off or something.
Wait. Do you even know how to turn the oven on? LOL
I don’t. There’s too many buttons and I like my air fryer because it’s just one button.
Or takeout. That’s easier.
Maybe Ernie escaped and I had to chase him around the park.
IDK. Just cover for me! K thanks.
Slipping my phone back into the pocket of my jeans, I make my way through the pop-up tents to find some of my teammates. I don’t like arriving at things on my own. I know they’re around somewhere, but it’s the time spent searching for them that has this bubble of dread sitting in my gut. I get all nervous for some reason, and then I convince myself that everyone is staring at me.
It’s different when I’m with my friends. I’m able to block other people out, and I feel safer to be myself. They are my protection. Human deflector shields.
I take in a few of the stalls as I pass them. Hook a Duck is calling to me, and so is Coconut Shy. I’m awesome at that game, but I give my head a mental shake to snap my attention back to the task at hand. I don’t have time to get distracted by the million things going on around me. I’m already late.
When I spot the team’s publicist, Colleen, standing with our team captain, Ethan Parkes, I let out a sigh of relief.
“Wait for me!” I call out, jogging over to them.
Ethan and his boyfriend, Jacob, turn to face me. Neither of them looks mad, which is a good start, and Colleen simply watches me with an amused glint in her eye. Okay, so maybe it’s not going to be so bad after all.
“Sorry, I got distracted and didn’t realize the time,” I quickly apologize, taking one of the jerseys Colleen is handing out and pulling it over my head. “I’m here now, and I’m ready to have some fun.”
Jacob gives my elbow a reassuring squeeze, and then I follow him and Ethan to finally check out the carnival games.
