Page 34

I tried to intercept him, but while my legs and feet were working hard, I did not seem to be moving forward with speed equal to my effort. By the time I was halfway to the enemy player, he had passed the puck to another one. Which meant I needed to come to a stop, turn around, and once more attempt to get enough momentum to move forward. Thankfully Ugwyll saved us from giving up a goal within the first few minutes of the game. He rushed toward the puck-holder with muscles bulging and such a scowl that the human got rid of the puck before the recipient was in position to receive it. Ozar managed to scoop the black disk up and reverse direction with a wide but steady half-circle. Unfortunately he made it only a few steps past the center line before one of the enemy stole his prize.

It was no surprise to discover that the Anaheim Ducks were faster than us. Every human player was faster than us, but to be bested by a team named after an aquatic chicken was especially humiliating. I tried to skate fast. I really tried. But each time my feet paddled against the ice as if I were the duck while the actual Ducks flew past me. It wasn’t just the speed of our enemies, it was their ability to spin around and reverse course like fae dancers. Unlike the humans, I had to come to a complete stop and take tiny, careful steps until I was facing the direction I wished to go. It wasted time, but when I tried to turn while moving I ended up sprawled across the ice. Getting back to my feet took even more time than slowly changing direction, so I chose the quicker option.

By the end of the first period any optimism I’d felt had vanished. The humans were enacting a strategy that I not only didn’t know, but that I hadn’t the physical ability to counter. I was the worst hockey player on the team. I would never get any better. Ozar should have left me on the bench for the game as he’d originally intended.

A very faint voice inside my head told me that the rest of my team was not measurably better than me, and that in spite of our ineptitude and lack of experience, we were improving at keeping the enemy from scoring goals and had been able to take advantage of lucky situations to score a few goals of our own in the last few weeks. I just needed more practice. And more YouTube videos.

As we took to the ice again, I glanced behind me and saw Abby and her friends. They were clearly enjoying themselves, shouting out various team member names and encouraging us to “take those Ducks down”. Abby’s cheeks had pink spots and those little divots that showed when she was smiling with all of her face. Her beauty transfixed me and I nearly skated into Pug.

“Dude. Watch out.”

Pug had taken to calling everyone “dude” ever since I’d shown him a movie involving time-traveling human males who’d had a history project with a looming deadline. His wardrobe now consisted of tan pants that didn’t go past his knees and brightly colored shirts with parrots or palm trees on them. Last week he had told us all that he was now vegan and would not eat meat or any animal products. I had to admit that the coconut milk he’d given me on the bus was very tasty, and I did like the bean-burger he’d insisted I try when we were in Miami, but I had no desire to follow him into vegan-hood. Or wear ridiculously short pants.

“Sorry. Pug-dude,” I replied after tearing my gaze away from Abby. Making my way to the wall, I positioned myself where Ozar had indicated an orc defender should be.

Chaos ensued. I couldn’t keep track of who had the puck, so I just hovered near our goal. That way I wouldn’t need to travel as far if an enemy came my way and tried to score–which happened about ten seconds after I arrived at the right corner of the net. The enemy was coming straight for our goal, so I pushed hard with my right skate in an attempt to put myself between him and the net. After gaining approximately four feet of momentum, I immediately began drifting in a direction I had not intended.

“Left!” Ozar shouted to me.

I angled my skate as the YouTube video had said and pushed myself in that direction.

“My left! Not your left!” Ozar roared.

There was no time to come to a complete stop and reposition my skates, so I tried to turn while moving and my feet ended up too wide.

“Left!” Ozar shouted again.

Anger and frustration coursed through my body. I was trying to go left. With my feet shoulder width apart, I shoved off with one skate and finally went to Ozar’s left. With my body. My feet were slower in taking action. With a panicked scramble, I managed to not fall. The puck slid past me quickly followed by one of the humans.

I shot my stick out, reaching for the puck. Missed. Twisted and turned too sharply. My skates crossed, and I knew there would be no recovery from this. I was going down, and no amount of frantic flailing with my arms or feet was going to stop it.

An Anaheim player had been cutting behind me and was in the wrong spot as I fell. My shoulder caught his hip. His skates left the ice. He rotated in the air then landed on his back with a sound that made the crowd gasp.

The whistle blew.

I remained sprawled across the ice, but rolled over so I could see the human. He was still on his back, gaping like a fish without taking a breath. Panicked, I got to my hands and knees and crawled quickly over to him, wondering if I would need to perform the CPR maneuver I’d seen on YouTube. I hoped not. Having no formal training or actual experience doing it, I was concerned that I might crush the human’s chest. Or push so lightly that my efforts were ineffective. I didn’t want the male to die. I didn’t want anyone to die. Concern over the male’s imminent death made me place my hands on his chest, ready to take a chance on my untested technique. That was when I realized the human was taking tiny, shallow breaths.

Was that enough oxygen? Should I still press on his chest and blow in his mouth while pinching his nose shut?

“Get off me,” the male breathed. “Off. Away. From. Me.”

I raised my hands in that universal gesture of surrender. “Are you dying? Will you be okay?”

The human took a larger breath and glared at me. “I’ll live, no thanks to you. Fuck. That was like being hit by a truck.”

One of the striped shirt humans pushed me out of the way, and I realized all of the humans and a few of the orc team were clustered around us.

The downed human pushed their hands away with irritation and got to his feet. The crowd cheered, and I clapped as well, glad that he was not dying.

“I apologize,” I told him as I got to my feet with far less grace than the human did.

He removed one glove and pointed at me. “You knocked me down. You can’t do that.”

This was so embarrassing. “I did not intend to knock you down. I was falling and you were in my way.”

“That doesn’t make it legal,” the human argued.

His team voiced agreement. The orcs argued back. Both groups took one step toward each other. Then another.