Graham skates to me and I push myself upright.
“You good, Campbell?” He asks, his eyes wild with concern and his hair sticking to his forehead beneath the cage.
I nod and look over at the commotion my teammates are making.
“We didn’t touch him!” Kinsey yells, shaking his stick. “We didn’t touch him!”
It’s the first time I’ve seen Kinsey so riled up.
The ref decides to let my teammates go with a verbal warning. However, because they stepped in and took matters into their own hands, Theilan’s punishment is lightened.
The scowl on McLanely’s face as he skates away tells me he thoroughly disagrees with the outcome, but I can’t talk to any of them because Coach calls me back to the bench and substitutes another player.
“You need a medic, Campbell?”
I shake my head, even as my leg screams. “Put me back in, Coach.”
He thumbs his nose. “Not yet.”
I wait on pins and needles, cheering for my team and waiting for my chance.
Just like he did at the scrimmage, Coach puts me back in when we’re down to the wire.
Now or never, Nat.
This could be my last game. I’m not going to let my leg define it.
Theilan is out of the sin bin too.
He smirks at me.
Anger flares brighter than the pain.
I move slowly and gingerly, baiting the old Lucky Strikers’ player. Letting him smell blood.
And he bites.
I receive the puck and the defender attacks. At the last second, I shift my weight, letting gravity propel him forward while I pull back. He overestimates my trajectory, eyes wide in confusion.
A flash of pride rises in me.
That opening is all I need.
Pain echoing harder than my heartbeat, I explode forward, pulling from somewhere deep within, somewhere thatbreathesfor this sport.
Ignoring the howl from my leg that promises I won’t be able to walk after this one motion, I fire.
The puck slams into the net.
And I skate backward in absolute relief.
As the buzzer erupts, the other team’s fans—who make up most of the spectators—throw up their hands and boo in disappointment.
On the bench, my teammates explode to their feet.
Theilan circles around the net, staring in disbelief.
McLanely, Kinsey, Renthrow and the rest of the team rush toward me. Somehow, they know not to dog pile me and crowd around, chanting my name instead.
