“Why?”
“I don’t know. It just seemed like we were supposed to want it.”
I nodded. “As long as you talk about it. You have to communicate.”
James clapped me on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. How come we were never friends before this year?”
We had known each other since middle school.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t good at making friends, I guess.”
“That’s on me too.” He glanced at his watch, which he wore on his left wrist even though he was left-handed. “Crap, gotta take a PGP.”
I snorted.
“Good luck.”
“Don’t need it,” he said, and patted his stomach.
PGP was code for Pre-Game Poop. A lot of guys did that. I wasn’t sure if it was because of running during warm-ups, or nerves, or too much food, or what. I had never experienced the phenomenon.
I retied my shoelaces and nearly bumped into Chip when I stood.
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s cool,” Chip said. “James going for a PGP?”
“Yeah.”
Chip chuckled.
For a second, it was like we were friends again.
I missed that ease.
I missed being friends with Chip.
“Well.” He swallowed.
“Yeah.”
It turns out, having your opponents named after aStar Trekcharacter wasn’t as much of a good luck charm as I had hoped.
Their offense was devastating, but we managed to hold them off and keep them from scoring. Gabe and James didn’t have any luck getting through, and we ended up in another shoot-out.
By that point, Christian and Diego were both exhausted. We all were. So were the Riker Wombats (a Level Ten Mascot Choice, to be sure).
They won the coin toss and shot first. Christian saved the first four but, to the wild cheers of the home crowd, the fifth one scored.
We hadn’t made any goals, and Chip was our last chance.
He didn’t grin as he approached the ball. His jaw was set. Sweat drenched his jersey, highlighting the valley his spine made between his back muscles.
He took a deep breath and made his move: a tricky inside shot to the goalie’s left. It would’ve gone in too, if it hadn’t just barely glanced off the goalpost.
Our team didn’t make a sound—we were all still holding our breath, even as the whistle sounded—but the Riker stands exploded.
We lost.
