“Good to know. Well, good luck out there, guys.”
I step back and watch as the Yetis finish out the first period. I get the interview of one player who scored a goal, but it seems a little tame compared to Burton’s intimidating words. Maybe that’s a good thing.
I’m in the perfect position to watch from the Yetis’ tunnel as the lacrosse guys head onto the ice. They walk gingerly, almost as if they’re getting ready to do ballet, and I can’t help but smile.
The idea of the game is that there are different targets along the sides where the hockey nets typically are, but the targets are a lot smaller than normal, reminding me of a knee-hockey net. There are five nets per side, and they’ve divided the guys into two teams, lined up on opposite sides of the half-line. They must throw the dollar store version of ping-pong balls toward the nets.
After the first few throws, they don’t have any in the nets. In fact, most of the balls haven’t gotten close, stopping about fifteen to twenty feet in front of them.
Burton is getting frustrated, and so are his teammates. He throws one low, and it skips across the ice like a rock on a pond, sliding into the net.
He leans over to his two teammates, explaining what they need to do. And just like that, they get at least one out of every two balls thrown into the nets.
The buzzer for the end of their three-minute game sounds, and Burton’s team wins.
I need to prepare for another interview coming up, but I’m curious what they won.
Steve, the rink announcer, speaks just then. “Each person on the winning team will receive one hundred dollars and the ability to host a VIP for their opening weekend.”
Does that haveto do with the thing we were brainstorming last night? Why would that be a prize? Management would come to us and tell us we needed to do something like host a VIP because it’s in the contract or something. Then again, if people must sign up to enter now, maybe they’d get more tickets sold for games.
If anything, the look on Burton’s face is pure joy. Something about him pulls me in, making me want to get to know him better. That hasn’t happened since Tim ruined things, but I won’t read too much into it.
CHAPTER 7
BURTON
I’m two years away from thirty and still have some time before all the aches and pains I’ve heard about from people set in. But between my rec box lacrosse games and working at the restaurant, I’m feeling the aches a lot more than I did before.
It’s been three days since Finny, Stack, and I won the intermission game, and I think I pulled a muscle in my back from it. Throwing a lacrosse ball is one thing, but a generic brand ping-pong ball that weighs next to nothing is much harder to throw.
Field lacrosse practices will start in a few days, and I’m sure the exhaustion and aches will only increase, which means I need to work harder to prepare for it.
I can’t imagine doing anything else as a career, at least not yet. There was a guy who just came back to play professional football as a quarterback at forty-four. I should be able to make it at least seven plus more years.
Despite my family not supporting me playing a sport at this age, I have to do it, or else I’ll always wonder what if?
I walk outside to go for a run, knowing it’ll be the best way to get moving for the day. I always take the longer workdays at the restaurant better if I’ve done my training, which seems counterintuitive. It’s just how my body works, I guess.
I think about the hockey game the other night, and how fun it was, even if I wasn’t happy to leave work. We won the game, and I recouped some of my lost tips. And yet, my mind keeps going back to the interaction with Laney. It was so easy to talk to her, although I probably should’ve censored my answer about us playing the Rattlers.
A sound alerts me, and I glance up to see someone running toward me on the road. As she gets closer, I see it’s Laney. It’s been a few days since the hockey game, and while I’ve seen her twice from across the street, I wonder if she’s avoiding me.
Looking back, my interview had been a little over the top. Extreme.
Then again, we’ve seen each other twice. Why would she even care?
I lift a hand and wave as I bend over to stretch. Might as well save my joints and muscles with a little warm-up before I risk an injury.
See? Even thinking that makes me feel old.
Laney waves and picks up the pace, sprinting past me and down to the stop sign at the end of the block. She’s pretty quick.
She slows down and turns, walking back with her hands on her hips as she tries to breathe in and out.
“What are you doing?” I ask, wondering if she’ll even be able to hear me.
She turns to me with a confused expression and then lifts a hand to pull out one of her earbuds. “Sorry, did you say something?”
