Out of Play

Bishop takes a deep breath before smiling at me. “Nothing. Can’t wait to see you kick ass out there.”

Gri

“Jones!” Someone’s hockey stick clanks on my window. “Get off the guy and get your ass in the locker room!”

Mitch laughs, and Becca gives me a wave. Chomps and Matt are behind him and make kissy faces at me as they walk by.

I flip them off. Jerks.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to clear my thoughts as I slide my fingers through his hair. “I love the way you mess with my head.”

“I love the way you mess with mine.” He stares into me. Deep. Like he always has. “Know that, okay?”

“I have to go.” I lean forward and press our lips together again. And then just touch his tongue with mine. He’s becoming a very nice addiction.

“I know. Go kick ass.” He leans forward and kisses me back. “We’ll talk after.”

“Bishop!” Gary pounds on the window as he laughs, but he’s also shaking his head.

“Okay.” I slide off Bishop, not thrilled with our interruptions, but ready to get into the game.

I even let him carry my bag.

…

Lucky bra. Lucky socks. Lucky leggings. Lucky shirt. I shake out my quivering hands. I slide on my pads and my jersey. My heart’s thrumming. Hammering. Thrumming. State. Senior year. I’m the only girl playing. I’m in the locker room alone. It’s quiet. Perfect.

My whole high school hockey career has come down to this. I’m not going home on the losing team.

Skates. I pull each step of laces tight before moving to the next. They have to be just right. Just so that I don’t have to touch them again. Tight. Ready. Helmet. Check. Mouthguard. Check. I shove Bishop out of my mind. Shove Mom out of my mind. Push away the picture of her and Ben. Thank Dad for making me love this game, which twists in my gut, but just for a moment. Reluctantly push away the picture of Bishop drumming without his shirt. Push away Gramps, after I imagine him giving me a thumbs-up.

For big games like this, I can’t even look for them in the crowd. I need to be in the zone. On the ice and nowhere else. I’m good. My head is clear. I’ve got lucky everything on, and I’m ready. I can kick ass. I can do this. My team can do this.

I stand up and head out to the ice knowing once I’m there, it’ll all fall into place. Like always.

…

I haven’t had a clear thought in the four minutes since the game started. There’s no time. The puck’s mine. Now Mitch’s. Now stolen. I fly toward number ten and ram him into the wall. Chomps flicks the puck back to Mitch, and ten is on my tail as I try to position myself in front of the goal.

I know Mitch. I know what’s he’s doing. He goes around the backside of their goal, and I fake like I’m moving back, but come forward just as the puck goes from Mitch’s stick to mine. I smash the thing with everything I have and hit net.

Holy. Shit. Goal one in State is mine.

I scream and throw my hands in the air. The crowd screams. Mitch slaps my back as I spin around.

“Way to go, Pe

Wow, this feels good. Better than good.

The puck’s on the ice. Back to game.

Number ten’s after me now. I can’t shake this guy, and he’s almost as big as Chomps.

At the end of first period, the score is still 1-0. Just me. Just mine. I’m gasping for air as we hit the bench.

Coach yells some words of encouragement. My whole body already hurts from being slammed. This is brutal.

“You okay, Pe

He never singles me out. “Good, why?”

“’Cause ten has it out for you. He’s a big guy.”

I just nod. This would piss me off coming from most people, but Coach has never treated me like I can’t handle myself. I hit the ice and look at the hulk of number ten again. Not a good idea. I can’t be afraid to get hit. Can’t. That’s the number one killer in a game.

I’m Pe

No fear.

I’m fast.

I’m good.

I can play.

The puck hits the ice, and I’m back to instinct. I’ve never skated so hard, worked so fast, let instinct take over more. I can’t wait to watch this game because I know I’m playing good. UAF’s men’s coach will take me for sure after this. Still no goals from the opposing team. We can do this. I’m weak, like I’ve run ten miles, but only one more period’s gone by, which means one left and we win. One.

The whistle blows to start the final period, and number ten clips my shoulder, slamming me against the wall. A searing shot of pain goes through my arm, stealing my breath, but I can handle it. I can deal. I’m okay. My skates slice across the ice, and both teams race and weave to gain control of the puck and the game. I get slammed again. I fall. Exhaustion is taking over almost as much as the pain. Mitch flies behind the goal again, puck at the ready. I need to get in there to make sure we stay ahead.

My legs are starting to weaken, my shoulder’s a throbbing mess, but there’re less than ten minutes left. I can take Advil later. Right now, I need to play with everything I have.

Chapter Twenty-three

Bishop

Something’s not right. I don’t know what it is, but Pe

Chill out, Riley, I tell myself. Pe

I look around, starting to feel freaked out.

It doesn’t make it easier that the crowd is double what it was at her last game. People pushing, screaming, cheering, grabbing. It’s every fear that taunts me alive. If this wasn’t her game, I would have been gone a long time ago, but what kind of man am I if I can’t deal with a crowd for her? I need to find a way to calm my shakes before I spiral out of control.

Pe

And they’re going to win because of her. I know it.

I look a few rows behind me and see Pe

Bishop! Bishop! Bishop!

I flinch, try to take some deep breaths, pretend I’m walking with Gary. They’re not here for me. No one’s yelling my name.

I hate that it’s like this. It shouldn’t be this way. It sucks that I’m teetering on the edge at a hockey game. Trying to shake it off, I look for Pe

The crowd gasps. Pauses. I stare, waiting for her to get up. She doesn’t.

Everyone starts racing toward her. Coaches, an EMT, her team, I don’t know who else, but I know I have to get to her. To be there for her the way she’s unknowingly been there for me. I start shoving my way through the crowd.