"Ace!" Coach calls as everyone's skating off. "A word."
Oh God.
I skate over, trying to look attentive and not like I'm about to vibrate away.
Coach crosses his arms. "You want to tell me what's going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
"Son, I've been coaching hockey for thirty years. That was not nothing."
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. "I'm just... December's been a lot."
It's not a lie. December has been a lot. It's just not the whole truth.
Coach studies me for a long moment. "You need to sit out a game, you tell me."
"I don't—"
"Your performance today says otherwise."
Ouch. Fair, but still. Ouch.
"I'll be better next practice," I promise. "Today was just... off."
He doesn't look convinced, but he nods. "Get some rest. And Ace? Whatever's going on, figure it out before it costs us a game."
"Yes, Coach."
I skate off before he can say anything else.
The locker room is a familiar frenzy. Becker's singing something off-key. Petrov's on his phone, probably texting his girlfriend. Groover and Wall are arguing aboutDie Hard.
"It's not a Christmas movie," Wall insists.
"It literally takes place at a Christmas party."
"That doesn't make it a Christmas movie!"
"By that logic,Home Aloneisn't a Christmas movie."
"Home Aloneis obviously a Christmas movie!"
I tune them out, focusing very intently on unlacing my skates.
Jinx drops onto the bench next to me. "So what's her name?"
I freeze. "What?"
"The girl. The one who's got you all twisted up." He grins. "Come on. We've all been there."
Jesus. Maybe I should just confirm. Maybe that would be easier. "There's no girl," I say instead.
"Dude. You forgot how to hockey. There's definitely a girl."
Becker leans over from his locker. "Is she hot?"
"There's no—"
