Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
He followed the team to the locker room.
I looked around the arena. I never paid attention to the fans. Football fans had no idea who I was, but hockey was different. I hadn’t dared to look in the stands. I did now. Tentatively. A few girls near our bench noticed me looking and both immediately smiled. They nudged the guys they were with, and those guys each gave me a nod in respect.
“We got you, little Connors,” one of them said.
I could read his lips.
A strange sensation went through me. Even as an adult, my expectation was that they would hate me. The fans. The players. Everyone. I forced myself to smile, trying to convey that I appreciated the respect before I moved down the tunnel.
I needed a moment and stepped into the bathroom.
Fans were fans. They could like me now and hate me within five minutes. I knew not to take anything personally. But having them show their support for me? Even for a moment? It shook me.
And I let it. I set a timer on my phone for one minute, and I let myself spiral—feeling, doubting, wondering, worrying. But when that alarm beeped, I stopped it. Full stop. Period. I was done indulging. I put everything away in my head. Locking it up, compartmentalizing every thought, doubt, and fear until it was all gone.
My mind was clear.
My emotions were steady.
I was ready for the third period.
73
TYLER
Third period was frustrating. It was back and forth the entire time. I got the puck. They took it back. Sunny got it, passed it, and they intercepted it. We checked each other hard into the boards. That was the game but tonight was especially rough. I wanted another goal. I wanted two more, and then we’d have some room to breathe. But Montreal was on our ass. When we got down to the two-minute mark, their goalie skated off and an extra shooter came on the ice.
When our line changed, I stayed, along with one of our defensemen. Daniel was on the ice, so I wasn’t going anywhere. During the change, they took hold of the puck and tried to make a run for the net. They were passing, trying to draw us out, but we held them in place. They couldn’t get near the goal, and they weren’t getting a clear shot.
Then one of their guys swung to pass and missed.
I shot forward, nabbing the puck. And I was gone.
They were all behind me, and it was an empty net. I just needed to clear their last line. Two of their guys were closing in, so I tried tossing the puck into the air and over their heads. It went up as one of their guys hit me and the other tried to catch the puck in the air. He missed. It was too high, and I swung around, still with a clear line. Suddenly it was a race. The puck was sliding just to the side of the net. If I got control, I could tip it in.
Their fastest guy wasn’t Connors. It was a guy named Estaban, and I assumed it was him coming after me. I reached the puck and glanced back. It was Estaban. He was closing in.
He expected me to tip the puck in, so he had his stick out, trying to block it. Instead I pulled to the side, and he couldn’t stop. He tried to brake by grabbing the net, but it didn’t matter. He sailed past me, and then I tipped the puck in.
The horn blasted. The red light flashed. Goal!
Throwing my arms in the air, I skated toward my bench to meet my teammates in a celly. We had won. 3-1.
“Fuck yeah, buddy!”
Just as I reached my first teammate, someone shoved me from behind.
“What?” I turned to look back, and my teammates were already in the scrum.
“Fuck off! Go fuck yourself.”
“I don’t think so,” Bruge joined the fight.
It took me a second to realize what had happened. Jesse and Sunny had come off the bench to greet me and were now being held back by two Montreal players as Estaban tried to hold back Connors. He was spewing shit, trying to get to me.
“Fuck you, Griffin! You fucking piece of shit. You’re pathetic.”
I laughed, tipping my head back. “Whatever, Connors. Get over it.” I gestured to the score. “You lost.”
“Yeah? Well, go fuck my sister some more, then. You two deserve each other.”
The game was over. The score was set. I was going to destroy him.
I shook my head, skating over to him, all nice and chill. But as I went past Brick, he took my stick from me. Bruge took my glove. Sunny took my other glove and by that time, I was right in front of Daniel. I tipped my chin up. “You want to repeat that part about your sister again? I didn’t quite catch that.”