Everyone seems to be skating in slow motion today. Maybe they are also on edge, but I never lose sight of the puck. I’m more than ready when Axl skates in, flicks his wrist, and slams the puck toward me.
I kick my pad out and brace for the thud. Everything goes quiet. Blinking, I check behind me.
The puck hit the net.
That was about the easiest save ever, and I let it slip past me. I roll my neck, hoping to loosen something up. I can’t shake this feeling like there’s something pressing on my shoulders. I never get this stressed out.
I take a deep breath, pulling in as much air as possible, and slowly let it out. The guys are in play again. I track the puck as they skate toward me again. This time I’m not going to miss an easy block. I ready my stick into position and will my eyes not to blink.
My mouth is dryer than normal, because I didn’t have proper time to hydrate this morning. I run my tongue along my bottom lip. A strange sour taste lingers on my tongue, grating on my nerves a little. I do my best to ignore it. I bend my knees andlaser in on the puck as Axl brings it down the ice. There’s no way I will miss this shot.
Errt! Bang! Clang!
A whistle slices through the cacophony of sounds, and Coach shouts, “Who brought a kid and a giant rat to practice?”
My head whips to the sound. Sure enough, Rigsby is trotting after a tawny streak up the stairs. Behind them is a tipped over garbage can and a trail of the garbage. The streak is too big to be a rat. I have no idea what that animal is, but now Rigsby’s heavy backpack makes so much sense. I swallow hard, half amazed he got it by me this whole time, and half horrified.
“One of you brought a kid and a cat,” Coach hollers when nobody fesses up. “Get them out of here!”
Resisting the urge to groan, I skate forward. Coach isn’t one to accept excuses or even apologies. He wants our actions to correct our mistakes, and I know nothing I say will smooth this over.
“This’s your kid?” His piercing gaze lasers through me, and heat rises over my neck and ears. It’s an odd way to show embarrassment, but it’s how I’ve always been.
“My sister’s. I’m babysitting while she has a baby today. He missed the school bus. Sorry, I don’t have anywhere to take him.” I skate around the rink and exit the ice. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I lumber forward because I’m still in my skates. I’m trying to balance on the concrete as I’m about to whisper-yell at Rigsby, but I freeze before I get a word out. He’s crawling over the seats to catch his cat-rat. It’s clearly a game to the creature. I’m going to have to help him catch it, and I can’t do anything with skates on.
With a heavy huff, I lean over, unlace my skates, slip my feet out, and start the process of climbing the stairs after them, which is nearly impossible to do with goalie gear on. I drop my helmet right as the creature sees me. Arching his back as if he’s getting ready to challenge me, he takes off, hopping from theback of one seat to the next like he’s spring loaded. He’s flying! Now that I’m closer I can tell it’s not a cat or a rat. It’s a ferret!
Aw man, Jackie never told me he got a ferret. She’s going to owe me so big for this.I run at top speed, leaping over chairs. Rigsby lunges forward, narrowly missing the ferret. I race to the top to try to get him from that angle. He’s a ninja ferret who drops to the ground and darts under the seats. Apparently, he has invisibility powers now, because I can’t see even a streak.
I stop, resting my hands on my knees as I catch my breath and scan the arena. I get a glimpse of the ferret’s long body all the way down on the ground floor. How he traveled that far in such a short amount of time is beyond me.He’s sprinting to the exit!
The sharp blast from the whistle slices through the air as Coach shouts even louder, “Practice isn’t starting back up until that kid and rat are gone!”
A collective groan rises from the team. A few of the guys skate off the ice and start toward me, joining in the search. That’s great and all, but my fingers are trembling. Coach Carlson is not going to forgive this very easily. He’s not a guy with a sense of humor.
Not this week.
Not ever.
In hindsight, I should have called Jackie when we missed the school bus. She’s in labor but she might have had a babysitter I could have called.
I take a deep swallow and get a gulp of air that tastes a little like the perfect blend of failure and frustration. Then I run as fast as I can out the door, trailing that animal.
With a deep scowl on my face, I trudge out of practice.
I’ve never done this before. I can’t even begin to imagine all the ways I’ll be punished when I return, but I don’t have a choice.
With the not-happyferret jailed in the backpack, and Rigsby snatched by the wrist, I scurry out of the arena. My head is pounding after all that commotion. I still can’t believe we caught this ninja ferret. He ended up running into an open supply closet where we surrounded him. I’ve never seen Carlson’s face turn a deeper shade of red than when he screamed for me to get the animal out of there.
I guess I’ll go back to my apartment and figure something out. I have a press conference this afternoon, and I don’t dare bring Rigsby to that. The last thing I need is this chaos captured on camera.
Breathing heavily, I propel Rigsby forward, and he trips over his foot trying to keep up with me. What stands out the most in my mind is how I completely missed an entire ferret. The kid is either a genius or I’m losing my mind. I let him into the backseat of my car, drop his bag into his hands, promptly get in the front seat, and take a moment to catch my breath. “Hey, buddy,” I proceed in my best gentle coax, “how’d you sneak a ferret into the arena? Better yet,” I rush as my mind reels, “where has he been this whole time?”
“Simple.” Unamused, his bottom lip pushes out. “He lives in my backpack.”
“But—” I drop it because it really is exactly the opposite of how he described it. It’s a giant feat to conceal a pet, and I’m quite impressed. I study his expression in the rearview mirror. Now that the ferrets out-of-the-bag—literally and figuratively—he opens the top of his bag. The ferret melts into his arms, rolling on his back for a belly scratch. “So, how long have you had him?”
“Since the beginning of last summer. He was our class pet last year. The teacher had to give him a summer home, so I volunteered.” A proud smile curves on the corner of his lips as he continues to rub his pet.
