Page 38 of Bombshells
“What are those?” I call out.
“They’re bumpers,” Bess says gleefully. “If you collide with them, it won’t hurt. But if a flying object collides with them, it will bounce. So please realize that your ordinary team tactics and positions are not going to be effective in this game.”
On the men’s side of the gym, there’s a stunned silence. While on the women’s side, they begin to whisper among themselves.
“Okay, wait,” somebody says. “This is like bumper pool. Who’s good at billiards?”
“Me!” Across the room, Heidi Jo throws her arms up in the air.
“We are so dead,” Castro grumbles. “Who usually wins at pool—besides my wife?”
“Baby Bayer beat me that time in Tampa,” O’Doul says. “Give us some tips, man. How should we play this?”
“Um…” I think about a pool table, and then I look back up at that screen. “Guys, I don’t know. Maybe I can only play pool when I’m drunk.”
Everyone groans.
Across the room I hear Heidi say, “Just picture the ninety-degree angle. If the puck hits the bumper here, it will bounce in this direction.”
The men turn their heads to try to see what she’s doing, but the women’s team blocks us with their bodies.
“Bess!” I yelp. “Tell us more about the equipment we’re using.” I figure if we can’t win with geometry, at least we’ll have more experience on the ice.
“Why sure,” Bess says, clapping. “The first two games will be played with a broom and an inflated rubber ball.”
“What?” Drake yelps. “A broom?”
“You’re up first,” Coach says, touching Drake on the shoulder. “I want to see the finest broom-handling in all of Brooklyn. Whoever scores the most goals today gets a guaranteed starting spot in the game against Toronto next week.”
“I think I jinxed us,” Silas whispers.
“How?” I whisper back.
“When I said that thing about letting the women win.”
“Sounds pretty stupid now, doesn’t it?” Eric says, barely concealing his chuckle.
“I’ve never defended the net against balls,” Silas says.
“Better get stretching, then,” Coach barks.
“Yessir.”
Thirteen
Some Saves are Guesswork and Prayer
SYLVIE
The truth is that I didn’t upend my life to move to Brooklyn just to play in a somewhat ridiculous exhibition game. And on one level, it makes me crazy that my Bombshells game jersey is getting its first and only real action during today’s publicity stunt.
I still haven’t played a single pro game, because Scarlet is having the season of a lifetime. And that stings.
On the other hand, I have never had as much fun as I’m having right now. After five of six games, the women are up four games to one.
I’m guzzling water, waiting until it’s time to guard the net for our very last game—and the only one where I’ll be holding an actual hockey stick.
The first two games—the ones with brooms—were hilarious. Just as the players on both teams had begun to adapt their game to the strangely exuberant equipment, Nate Kattenberger and Rebecca Rowley Kattenberger had begun flinging more balls onto the rink.
