“Try me.”
From the minute the game starts, Kyle does nothing but trash talk. I don’t get a clean shot against him. Not without pulling a penalty.
Marcus and I get shots on goal, but Boston’s goalie is good. Undoubtedly the best in the country.
He guards the crease with an ease that comes naturally. It makes me hate the guy that all of our shots get blocked.
“Fuck!” I slam my stick against the boards at our last shift change of the first period.
“Easy, man. We’ll get there.” Marcus passes over my water bottle as I watch Isaac draw a dumb penalty and get two minutes in the box.
“Really?”
We’re down a man, letting Boston score an easy goal.
“Damn it!”
I’m pissed. The last thing I want is to get down against this team. Especially when we skate off the ice and I get a scathing look from Kyle.
“There’ll be more of that all night, baby. All night.”
“I really want to beat him,” I tell Marcus.
“Why do you want to beat him so badly? We’re used to dicks like him.”
I follow him into the locker room for intermission.
“That’s Angie’s ex.”
“Shit. Are you serious?”
I nod, dropping down onto the wooden bench.
“Okay, that makes me want to cream him.”
“Not before me.” No one gets to do that before me.
“Not the end of the period we wanted, but we’re only down by one. Still plenty of hockey left to play. Boston is a good team. We need to clean up some mistakes, not let easy penalties get the better of us.”
“Sorry, Coach,” Isaac tells everyone. “I’ll do better.”
“We all need to tighten up,” Coach confirms. “Not just you.”
“We got this, Coach. No way are we going to let these guys come in and beat us on our home ice!” I pipe up.
“That’s right. Go out there and show those Gophers what happens when they mess with Sand Sharks!”
Everyone is fired up as we head back out to start the second period. Kyle wins the face-off this time, but I’m able to easily take the puck away from him.
Our guys are there to set up the play as I skate down the ice in the direction toward their net.
Marcus is on my left as I pass the puck off. Boston’s D is setting up to block the play, but I slip between the two of them as Marcus sends the puck my way. Pulling back, I send it toward the back of the net. There’s a small gap between the goalie’s glove and the cross bar.
Watching the puck slide in, I cheer as the lamp lights up and the horn blares. The home stands erupt.
“We need more of that magic!” Marcus claps me on the helmet.
“All you, Wizard!”
