Page 60 of One More Time

My eyes went wide as it dawned on me who I was meeting. “Holy fucking shit” I blurted, smacking a gloved hand over my mouth as soon as I realized what I’d said.

The man only laughed, but I was spiraling. Connor Bellamy, the former star defenseman from Boston, was standing right in front of me. He had two Stanley cups under his belt and there he was, standing right in front of me—and smiling. Connor Bellamy was smiling at me. “I am so sorry, I am working on the language…”

Connor waved me off. “It’s all good. You’ve made quite an impression this season. And since you know my name, you clearly know your hockey.” His hand came out, and I fumbled with my glove to shake it.

“I promise I’m not usually a fumbling idiot. This is just… you’re the first NHL star I’ve met and...” I stopped when I realized I was still holding his hand.

Coach cringed out of the corner of my eye. I was totally messing this up.

“Trust me, I’ve been where you are: looking my idols in the eye and making a fool of myself. I like you, kid. And your coach has spoken very highly of you. I’m here for a couple of reasons. I do represent young hockey players trying to get into the league, but only ones I think can make the cut. You’re showing great potential, so I wanted to introduce myself. If you keep it up, you may be hearing from me.”

I felt like I was shaking. Wait… I was. I nodded more than was necessary before I saw Coach’s eyes widen—a silent warning to say something. “Crap sorry, I’m in shock here. Yes, I’ll keep it up. Actually, I’ll do better. I really want a chance to prove myself. The NHL is my dream.”

Connor laughed and Coach scrubbed a hand over his face. “Awesome to hear, kid. Now get out there and show me what you got.”

I bounced on my skates, saying a round of thank-you‘s, and Coach mimed for me to go away because I was making a bloody fool of myself. I skated onto the ice with new energy, the smile on my face big enough to attract a few questions from teammates. But I shook them off—I didn’t want to jinx anything.

As we got into position, Hunter slid by me. “Told you the NHL will be calling at your door! Bellamy is one of the biggest agents in the league now. You got this, baby. Your mom’s going to see you go pro in no time.”

Before I could say anything, Hunter was gone. The puck hit the ice and Colton fumbled against their centre who shot the puck to the blue line. Sixty seconds was a long time in the hockey world, and that first minute revealed that this game was going to get messy.

Mouse had already been put into the penalty box for slashing. Jarman, our biggest player, took a nasty hit from a defenseman that had less business on the ice and more being at the top of a beanstalk. The dude missed his calling as a goalie or a grid-iron fullback or something. Jarman was getting checked out by the team doctors, and I was starting to get a bee under my bonnet.

That first period felt like the longest of my life. I hadn’t even thought about the agent until I was heading to the locker room. I didn’t get a chance on goal; their defense was tight, and our boys were getting penalty calls so often, we spent the whole period trying to get past them. We were currently down by two, and I could see Preston stewing. We all knew better than to try to give him a pep talk: no one ever messed with the goalie when he was trying to stay in the zone.

Colton stood once more before all of us. “Boys, what the hell?! We’re a mess out there. What’s with all the penalties? We need to skate smart and clean.”

I scoffed, perhaps a little louder than I intended to. Everyone’s eyes shot to me—everyone except Hunter. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground as he rolled his shoulder.

“We have been playing clean,” I defended. “Mouse got that penalty because he was getting roughhoused. The play wasn’t going to work: the team was too spread out. Mouse needed backup. They know our usual plays. Cap, I hate to say it, but fast breakaways aren’t going to help us here. That team is all muscle; they want to play rough, and they’re getting away with it. If we let them do nothing but beat us up, we’ll have nothing left for tomorrow.”

Colton looked at me, eyes blazing with fury. Coach waited in the background, ready to step in if needed. “What do you suggest then Aus?” Colt’s tone was anything but welcoming, and the rest of the team nervously wrung their hands around their sticks.

I didn’t let Colton scare me. “One, we need to be a fucking team. You’re skating ahead and expecting us to be there, blind to the fact that their defense is all over us. They have big guys who are blocking the goal, but if we use that to our advantage and switch it up with a lot of passes, they won’t see it coming. But it means we need to hold our own—speed won’t work. We need to use shoulder checks to keep the passing lines free.”

I knew this strategy heavily depended on working as a team. We couldn’t go in there with the intention of showing off. The first period only proved that Colton was only interested in getting his goal percentage up.

Coach spoke up. “Aus is right. They’ve altered their game to match us. The clean lines aren’t working anymore—they can see it coming We’re spending all of our time in the defensive zone and that’s what they want. We need to get some hits in, throw them off their game.”

Colton ground his teeth. “Yes, Coach.”

The rest of the team agreed and we reset before hitting the ice once more.

My plan worked. Finally, we were moving the puck between the lines. Though my plan wasn’t without its downfalls because I was getting checked left, right, and center. Those guys did not want me to have the puck. The moment it hit my stick, I needed to keep it moving or I’d lose it. I hit it towards Mouse who had a free pass to Amon, but before I could press forward, I was checked against the boards.

“What the fuck!” I spat, whipping around to see a familiar number sixty-six: Zane Matthews.

“You his new boy toy then?” he chirped, making me flinch.

The sound of puck hitting a stick made me get my head back in the game.

The puck soared back to the neutral zone when Merrimack defenseman intercepted it. I bit out a curse, jumping into motion.

But the second I got it back, I was hit again.

“He’ll only wreck your chances of getting signed too.”

I shoved him off. I wasn’t going to let him get me. I followed the puck and the whistle blew right before I my face met the boards again.

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