I don’t know what Blaze’s problem is or if he’s the one who told Coach I had company in Vegas but I know someone is reporting back to Coach. The only question is whether they’re watching me specifically or the team in general.
And since I’d bet my left nut it isn’t West or any of our roommates, this is going to make an already difficult situation even worse.
The game is rough.
We go into the third period tied at three and it’s brutal. More fights than I can remember this early in a season. A lot of penalties on both sides. And I’m starting to learn that when the vein on the right side of Coach’s face, just above his eyebrow, starts to throb, he’s going to blow.
The good news is that I have a goal and an assist with zero penalty minutes.
Unfortunately, there’s still nearly ten minutes left in the game and it’s obvious the Phantoms aren’t giving up without a fight. Vik is in net and he’s all but stood on his head to keep us in it tonight, but if we can’t dig up some offense, it won’t matter.
West draws a penalty putting us on the power play, and I’m surprised again when Coach puts me in. Special teams isn’t my forte but Coach doesn’t seem to care about any of that. He just wants us to do what he says when he says it—without any regard for our skill set or personality.
I’m out on the ice with West, Felix, and Ashton. I still don’t know him very well, but he seems like a good guy and tonight he’s on fire. One of our goals is his, and now he’s looking for another.
He sets himself up in front of the net and I pass to him. He shoots it over to Felix, who takes the shot but hits the post. The Phantoms are down a man but it feels like they’re everywhere. They seem like a really excellent team this year and I’m a little frustrated I’m on a team that…isn’t.
“Bodi, head’s up!” Felix calls to me and I duck out of the way as a puck comes flying toward my face. It drops in front of me and I slap shot it toward the net but it goes wide. Ashton grabsit, dekes around one of the Phantoms’ D-men and smacks it into the goalie’s glove.
Dammit.
So close.
The ref blows the whistle and we move in for a faceoff. I’m to Felix’s left and Blake is across from him, but Felix’s faceoff game is on point. The puck pretty much sails right onto the blade of my stick. There’s a small opening between the goalie’s legs and I aim for it. Just as Blake’s stick comes up and slices across my cheek.
Somewhere in my peripheral vision, I see the red light go off but I’m holding my face because whatever just happened hurts like a motherfucker.
“Sorry, man.” Blake’s voice is contrite and I know it was an accident, but there’s blood dripping down my glove as I skate to the bench.
Our head trainer, a guy named Phil Darnell, immediately presses a towel to my cheek.
“Let me see, Bodi,” he says in a no-nonsense voice.
I’m not typically squeamish but the amount of blood on my glove is giving me pause.
“Okay, you might need a couple of stitches. Let’s get you in the back.”
“Do it here,” I grunt. “Just get it done.”
He shakes his head but starts gathering his things.
“Nice one!” West says, sinking down next to me. “Now if we can just hang the fuck on for nine more minutes.”
“You’re okay?” Felix asks, sitting on my other side.
“All good.” I close my eyes as Phil sprays something on my face that stings.
“Nice job, Bodi.” Coach smacks my shoulder.
I don’t respond since Phil is injecting something into my face. Some kind of numbing agent but fuck, this shit sucks. I’venever had to get stitches on the bench before and it’s a good thing I have a strong stomach.
“Four minutes,” Felix murmurs at some point.
I can’t open my eyes so I’m glad he’s distracting me.
“Almost done, B,” Phil says.
“Bodi, get back out there.” I’ve barely put my helmet back on before Coach is tapping my shoulder.
