“Mr. Brick!” Emett shouts, waving wildly to the players as they appear on the ice, this time catching attention of the two girls sitting in front of us. “That’s my mom’s boyfriend,” he announces proudly to their stupefied faces.
“Emett,” I groan, but thankfully, the lights start flashing as the overhead commentator welcomes everyone to the deciding match between the Florida Ice Devils and the Boston Outlaws before anyone can say anything else.
You can feel the atmosphere in the arena slowly shifting, the air tingled with anticipation, nerves and thirst for blood as the players roll out onto the ice one by one.
The crowd cheers each one of the Outlaws, but my heart stops only for one. Number 4.
Severin glides toward his net in his full get up, strong and impenetrable, like the brick wall he’s nicknamed after, but he can’t fool me. Not when I feel his volatile energy all the way here.
His eyes are covered by the helmet, but I can feel the darkness pouring out of him in waves.
My hands start to shake as a feeling of deep dread fills my heart, and it only continues to grow through the anthem and as they take positions in the face off.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Stella says quietly, her eyes alternating between the players on the ice and making sure Emett doesn’t leap over the plexiglass to play with them.
For a second, Severin’s head snaps in our direction before he gives it a shake and gets in position.
“Me either,” I agree just as the puck drops.
“The Ice Devils have been domineering the first period so far while the Outlaws have been scrambling around, chasing them in their own zone. It almost feels like we’re watching a Devils’ power play but that’s not it.”
“Yeah, you’re right. The focus just isn’t there today and they need to do something about it and quick.”
“Zima takes off from the blue line, pass to Siga. Fooley tries to intercept but he doesn’t manage to do that. Zima is back on the puck, and he shoots! He scores!”
“Yanis Zima scores the first goal of the game on the fifth minute of the first period.”
“A beautiful, straightforward goal that Minaev should’ve caught.”
“Yeah, there was no trick to it. But another question is, where was Quinn? The defense is falling through from the get-go.”
“They seem to be playing some other game in their heads.”
My hand flies to my mouth, trapping a gasp in there as Severin makes yet another crazy save, but just barely deflects it. He’s tired. I can feel it in my every bone, he’s so damn tired and it’s only been ten minutes, but he must’ve made at least ten saves in those ten minutes.
The referees call it, pausing the game as they retrieve the puck from Sava’s glove and Electra curses under her breath when that same number 1 who just scored the first goal skates over to Exton. Just by the look on his face I know he’s taunting him, and Exton’s eyes glaze over with red. The next thing we know Extonhas the collar of his jersey balled up in one of his fists as the other one is getting ready to fly into the guy’s face.
The crowd goes wild, smacking their hands against the plexiglass.
Electra leaps up from her seat, screaming, “Exton, don’t!” There’s no way he can hear her over the roaring crowd that wants to see some blood spilled, but then he stops.
Just like that. He stops as ifhe canhear her, letting go of the asshole in front of him.
Exton starts skating away, but the guy is on him, still shit-talking and my eyes snap up when I see Severin skating out of his net toward Zima and gets in his face.
In a flash, I’m on my feet next to Electra.
What’s going on? What is he doing?
“Nana, what’s happening? Is Mr. Brick fighting?” Emett asks, struggling to see through the people in front of him.
Severin never gets involved in the fights; that’s not him. At least, that’s not the Sava they know here. My heart thumps loudly against my chest and then I’m able to take another breath when the referees push them apart.
Stella lifts him up at last so he can see everything is fine.
But it’s not.
I feel it in my bones. Nothing is fine. And I swear a loud crack of thunder shakes the arena at that precise moment.
