“That was weak.” McLanely grunts. “Try that again.”
I put my gloved hand back on top of the huddle and yell, “One, two, three, Lucky Strikers!”
We break and the rest of the players empty out of the locker room with their hockey sticks.
Chance pulls me aside while the others rampage ahead. “You good to go, Campbell?” His eyes dart to my leg.
“I’m good.” I slap my leg to prove a point and the gloves make a loud rustling sound against my hockey gear. “No pain.”
No more than normal, at least. I’ve been adding more and more pain relief patches as my practice time ramps up, but that’s par for the course. If I’m training more, I’m pushing my leg more. This level of pain is tolerable.
McLanely and I leave the locker room together.
Halfway through the tunnel, I hear the roar of the crowd in the stadium. I arch an eyebrow and turn to Renthrow who’s right behind me. “What’s with the crowd?”
“Tonight decides who’ll be representing Lucky Falls at the league qualifiers. This is a big deal for the entire town.”
“No pressure,” I grumble. Then I notice the Hello Kitty sticker on his helmet. “Have any more of those? I could use some good luck.” I knock my own helmet which is noticeably free ofDeath Noteparaphernalia—though I considered it.
“Fresh out.”
“Bummer.”
“If you make the team, I’ll ask Gordie to find you a nice one.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Renthrow smirks and moves ahead of me.
I slow down in thought. Have I ever had a friendship like this with my teammates in the league?
Hockey means everything to me and I would happily play in Superman’s arctic hideaway if I had to. But I’m realizing that I don’t want to play hockey just anywhere.
I want to play here.
In Lucky Falls.
With these guys who’ve pulled me into their lives like I’m family.
At that moment, I sense a dull ache in my leg. I stop moving and twist my ankle to test if the pain is in my head or not.
Kinsey passes me by and stops when he sees that I’ve gone still. “Campbell?”
I awaken from my stupor.
Kinsey’s gaze drops to my leg.
I force a grin. “Just taking it all in, man. Could be my last night on the ice like this.”
“No way. You’re too good not to make it,” Kinsey says.
It’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me and I’m shocked.
“Let’s go.” Kinsey juts his chin at the exit.
As we step into the bench, I look at the crowd and I’m stunned to find some fans holding out large, cardboard cut-outs of my face. The spectators scream their heads off when I look their way.
I tune them out as best as I can while stretching and skating laps. On one of my laps, I notice Renthrow has stopped and is waving at someone in the stadium.
