“No.”
“Botox?”
“I’m twenty-seven, Murph.”
“Preventative Botox is a thing. My sister does it. She looks amazing.”
He squinted harder. The others began to stare, ignoring the boredom of skates for the tantalizing sensation of fresh prey caught in a web.
“Something’s different, though. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Nothing’s different, Murph. I slept well. That’s it.”
“Nobody sleepsthatwell. You look like you just got back from a spa retreat in Bali.”
“I’ve never been to Bali.”
“Then you should go, because whatever Bali does to people, something did it to you.”
I escaped to my stall before he could continue his investigation, pulling my gear from the shelf with more force than necessary. The trick was to keepmoving, to stay busy, to not make eye contact for too long.
The plan worked for approximately eleven minutes.
Then practice started.
And the façade began to crack.
But not because I sucked. Oh, no. I was on.
I wasn’t good. I was incandescent.
Every pass found its target, every shot hit its spot. My edges were sharp, my hands were quick, and I was seeing the puck three moves ahead like the whole game had slowed down just for me.
Coach noticed. Of course he did. He noticed everything.
But the guys noticed, too.
I could feel them watching, exchanging glances, and trying to figure out what had shifted.
During a three-on-two drill, I pulled off a between-the-legs pass to Tyler that was so precise, so perfectly weighted, that he stopped skating and stared at me.
“What the hell was that?” he said.
“A pass.”
“That wasn’t a pass. That was art. What did you eat for breakfast?”
“An acai bowl,” I said, starting to skate away.
I was still close enough to hear him mutter behindme, “I’m switching to acai bowls.”
Coach’s whistle ended our conversation, and practice continued.
I played like a man possessed—or, more accurately, like a man unburdened. Something had unlocked in me, some tension I’d been carrying without realizing it. My body felt lighter and freer, like I’d been skating with weights strapped to my ankles and someone had cut them loose.
I knewexactlywhy.
And apparently, so did everyone else, even if they couldn’t identify the source.
