“Willow!” I gasp, half bent over with laughter as she swings her stick again and hits a spectacular air shot.
“I’m a skater, not a hockey player!” she protests.
Markus steals the puck easily and darts past us both, skating backwards just to be annoying.
“Oh, this is embarrassing,” he calls.
“Give it here,” I snap, chasing him.
And suddenly everything clicks into place.
The sound of the puck skittering over the ice.
The way my body remembers exactly how to move.
Markus cuts left, expecting me to follow.
Instead, I hook the puck cleanly off his stick and slip past him on the outside.
For half a second his surprise is so obvious it almost slows him down.
He recovers fast but I already have the angle.
I push forward, tap the puck once more, and send it sliding neatly between the markers.
Goal.
I throw my arms in the air instinctively.
“YES!”
Willow celebrates behind me like we’ve just won the Olympics.
Markus skids to a stop, staring at the puck in the makeshift goal.
Then he starts laughing.
“Alright,” he says, shaking his head. “Alright.”
Before I can react, he grabs me around the waist and lifts me clean off the ice.
“Hey!” I yelp.
He spins us both in a wide arc across the frozen lake, my skates dangling uselessly while Willow nearly collapses laughing behind us.
“A true Shaw, ladies and gentlemen!” Markus announces loudly to the empty winter night.
I’m laughing too hard to protest.
Eventually he sets me back down on the ice, still grinning.
But when he looks at me again, there’s something thoughtful in his expression now - a little impressed.
And that feeling - the exhilaration still buzzing through my body - lingers long after the puck stops moving.
ZANE
For a couple of days after the opener, I keep thinking about the girl from the party.
