“Yes, sir,” I say.
My mood only gets better gearing up in the locker room. The guys joke around until it’s time to get in the zone as game time approaches. The coaches go over our best plays and the weak moments we need to tighten up from playing against UMass last night.
I stand in the middle of the locker room, surveying my team. “We’re entering that rink ahead tonight.”
“Hell yeah,” Manning whoops.
“We’re going to leave the ice as winners,” I continue. “UMass passed on me and half of you in this locker room. They didn’t see what Lombard and all of Heston know. We’re a team of the best damn talent in Hockey East.”
When I finish, the room erupts in a ruckus of cheers and whistles. We leave the locker room unified and fired up to take the win tonight.
During warm-ups, I find Maya in the crowd. Do I show off for her?
Of fucking course I do.
I’m glad I scored her rinkside seats. This time she’s here for me, not her brother.
After they’re over, I gather at the bench with the guys until the ice is cleared of loose pucks. My gaze doesn’t leave her during the opening before puck drop. One by one, our names are called by the game announcer to introduce us to the arena.
“Introducing tonight’s lineup. For the Heston University Knights, in goal, number thirty-three, Cameron Reeves.”
Cameron skates to the blue line, waving as the crowd showers him with support for their goaltender.
“At left wing, number sixteen, Daniel Hutchinson.”
Hutch zooms to the line like his ass is on fire.
“At right wing, number fourteen, Theo Boucher.”
Theo joins them while the crowd chants his nickname.
“On defense, number forty-five, Noah Porter.”
Noah flirts with the crowd, skating in a meandering zigzag to reach the boys. Reeves pretends to swoon, leaning against Boucher to catch him. The crowd eats it up.
“Also on defense, number forty-seven, Jake Brody.”
Brody takes off, inspiring a burst of high-pitched screams from girls at the swagger in his stop.
“And at center, your team captain. Number twenty-four, Easton Blake,” the announcer finishes, energetically hyping up my name.
The crowd cheers, but it’s Maya who has me grinning as I skate towards my teammates at the blue line. She cups her hands around her mouth.
It might be my imagination, but I swear I hear her scream my name as I send snow flying when I stop on the edge of my blades to join my linemates.
I exchange looks with the guys. “Let’s fucking go.”
They echo my sentiment, tapping gloves before it’s time to take our starting positions.
Once the game begins, the pace moves lightning quick. We can feel UMass’ desperation to put up points and come out of this on top, but we’re not letting that happen.
By the end of first period, the air is tinged with their rashness. Coach directs us to stay focused on keeping our pace steady.
In the middle of the second, they’re getting sloppy trying to rush this. We take advantage, pressing their players hard when they make mistakes. We’re the first to score on them and it’s only making them play more wildly.
Early in the third period while I’m on the bench, McKinley moves with the puck. One of the defenders slams into him to steal it. He takes the hit, then shakes out his wrist when UMass goes for the breakaway once they have the puck. He’s having trouble, lagging while our guys chase down our opponents to stop the play.
“Coach,” I say.
