But then she turns back to her computer screen, dismissing both me and my idea. And maybe our shared past. That’s what hurts the most.
“Go home, JJ. I’ll see you later.”
So much for starting over.
ELEVEN
ADDIE
SIXTEEN YEARS OLD
Nothingbut thirty seconds stands between me and this win. Maybe it’s cocky to think it all rests on my shoulders, but we’ve got one goal on the board, and our opponent has none, so it’s accurate.
Maine’s center glides toward me, determination emanating from him. The kid is incredible on the ice. His movements are so smooth that it looks like he’s flying, not skating, as he zig-zags around our defenders like they’re merely mirages. If Sonic moved like him, he wouldn’t even lose coins from brushing against the other guys. How could he when they can’t keep up? Can’t stop him?
Fuck.
He plays with the puck, tossing it back and forth with his stick using nothing but a flick of the wrist, taunting me.
I shuffle left to right, following his every move. When I expect him to come barreling into the net, he stops. The puck doesn’t leave his stick as he scoops it into the air and slings it toward my left shoulder.
Had I been relying on him to use a snap shot, like most players would have if they were open the way he is, I’d be expecting it to my right. But JJ told me about this play. Warned me he’d probably try it. Soas the buzzer sounds, indicating the end of the game, I flip the puck up from my gloved hand and smile.
Take that, motherfucker.
That’s what they call a shutout.
My teammates rush me, jumping on top of me and knocking me over. I’m laughing and giddy. Effervescent, really. With that win, our team has earned a better spot in the finals, which means we’ll have a bye week and some-much needed rest.
One by one, the guys pull themselves up. Then a set of gloved hands heaves me to my skates.
JJ.
“Fuck yeah! I told you he’d try it,” JJ yells, pulling me into his arms and flinging me around like a rag doll.
Even beneath all this gear, I worry that he can feel my racing heart.
“You did,” I respond, out of breath. “Though I doubt you coulda stopped that shot like I did.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Always so humble, Addie Angles.”
I swallow the smile that tries to take over when he uses the nickname he gave me. They all use it now. This team is different from any I’ve played for. The guys seem to accept me even though I’m the only girl on the team. JJ and I play almost equal amounts of time, which is practically unheard of at our level. While I’m not the only girl in the league, I get a whole lot more ice time than the rest. And though I try not to pay attention to shit like that, JJ does. He constantly laments how unfair it is. He’s sure there are other women who deserve the chance. He’s my biggest champion. My biggest supporter.
Well, other than my dad. Right now, he’s screaming his head off from the stands, louder than anyone else here. And when I get out of here, I’m guaranteed a giant hug from him. My uncles are with him, all wearing big smiles and letting out raucous cheers. My aunts and my mom sit with them too. Every single one of them is dressed in maroon, the team color, and they all haveAddiebedazzled on the backs of their shirts. When Aunt Lennox is involved, the Bedazzler always comes out. She’s fun like that.
With a wave to them, I head to the locker room. Well, my pseudo locker room. The individual handicapped bathroom is as good as it gets here. Honestly, it could be worse. This one has a shower, which means I don’t have to go home sweaty and stinky. I’ve been to plenty of arenas where that’s my only option.
I shower quickly, throwing my hair up in a thick bun on top of my head, and once I’m dressed, I head outside.
My entire family is waiting, but my Uncle Brooks grabs me first. “That was incredible. That center was something else. I honestly would not have stopped that goal.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you would have. You’re the best goalie to ever play the game.”
He drags me into his chest for a hug. “Proud of you kid. One day the commentators are going to say that about you. Best goalie to ever play the game.”
His words send warmth rolling through me. Brooks is the kindest person on the planet. Soft spoken, even tempered, and oversized. He gives the best hugs and the greatest encouragement.
And most valuable of all, he gives me his time. On the ice, with yoga, workouts, watching tape. Uncle Brooks never tires of my questions or my requests to run a play one more time.
