They ran it twice more, each rep cleaner than the last. Landon finished the third with a backhand roof that clanged off the water bottle on top of the net.
He pointed at Hunter. “You’re buying the first round tonight.”
Hunter shoved his mask up onto his forehead. “You score in a real game, we’ll talk.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
The laughter carried as they skated off, and Coach jerked his chin toward us. “Second.”
Shawn took the draw this time. I lined up on the right. Cash Money drifted high near the blue line, ready to step into a shot.
The whistle cut through the rink.
Shawn tied up his man and kicked the puck back. I picked it up, shifted left to avoid Tucker’s reach, and sent it across to Cash.He wound up and drove it through traffic. Hunter blocked it with his chest and swallowed the rebound.
“Better,” Coach called. “But you’re still thinking. Stop thinking.”
I circled back to center ice. Thinking hadn’t been my problem. I knew all the ways that worked best to stop it in its tracks. In fact, I’d gone to that bar last night to get away from thinking.
Instead, I’d ended up with a stranger dissecting my game between sips of beer.
You put yourself on the sidelines.
I dug the toe of my blade into the ice and waited for the next whistle.
We moved into a small-area battle drill. Two-on-two below the circles. Tight space. Quick decisions.
Grayson paired with Mason. Landon with Tucker. Shawn with Cash. I rotated in after the first rep, stepping into the circle opposite Landon.
“Try to keep up,” he said as he squared off.
“Worry about your own feet, and let me do my job.”
The puck dropped between us and we collided shoulder to shoulder. He had speed, but I had weight. I forced him toward the boards, pinned his stick long enough for Shawn to scoop the puck and cycle it behind the net.
Landon shoved off me and chased.
“Good body,” Coach called from the top of the circle. “Now finish it.”
I drove toward the crease as Shawn wrapped it around. The puck bounced off Hunter’s pad and kicked loose. I jammed at it until the whistle cut us off.
Landon skated past, tapping his stick against mine once. “There he is.”
I didn’t know if that was praise or a warning.
We lined up for conditioning sprints to close it out. Blue line to blue line. Goal line and back. McAvoy skated alongside us for the first few, then dropped back to watch.
My legs burned by the fourth rep. Mason and Grayson raced each other on the outside lane, chirping the whole way down.
“Captain can’t even beat his center,” Mason called.
“Captain doesn’t need to prove anything in practice.”
Landon crossed the line a stride ahead of both of them and threw his hands up. “And youth wins out again, suckers.”
Tucker reached out with his stick and hooked Landon’s skate just enough to knock him off balance at the line. Landon windmilled but recovered before he hit the ice.
“That’ll teach you to respect your elders,” Tucker said.
