Page 1 of Playoffs & Promises

One

LOU

Skate, shoot, score. It's the same mantra I've had since I picked up my first hockey stick. Today is no different as it repeats in my head as I circle the practice rink and pass the puck to Nate. Nate, the forward and oldest guy on the team, slaps the puck to one of the new guys on the team. Shane joined the team in time for training camp and to replace Matt; since Matt decided he wanted to get all cozy with my sister and his agent landed him a good contract with the big leagues. They're blissfully in love in Tennessee where I can't give him a hard time on the ice for kissing my little sister. Even if she'd argue it's not her fault I was the first twin born.

Of course thinking about them, leads me to think of how Maria convinced Hannah to go to that stupid speed dating event where Hannah and Matt started flirting. Before that night Matt was a perfectly respectable friend and teammate who listened to my warning to stay away from my sister. After that night, I kept catching them making cow eyes at each other whenever they thought the other wasn't looking.

"Lou, head in the game," Nate calls out to me as the puck slides right by me into the stick of a defender waiting for his chance to steal it.

The defender, a rookie barely able to tie his skates, takes the puck from me and skates it toward the goal. We're playing three on two, and I've let them down. I switch up my direction to chase after it, but Shane beats me down the ice and gets the puck back before shooting it toward the goal. He scores and the lineup changes. The three of us move off to the side as the new group lines up.

Shane looks at me and shakes his head. "Man, you've gotta cleanse your energy. Way too much bad stuff going on there."

Nate and I share a look as we skate over to the boards where our water waits. Nate stops next to me, "You're going to end up with the lemon if you keep playing like that."

"I know."

"What's got you so sour?" He asks.

Crossing my hands over my heart dramatically, I tell him. "Oh, ow! A lemon joke, how you wound me."

He just rolls his eyes. "Shake it off. You'll get it next lineup."

But I know I won't, I might be saying my mantra, but I wasn't able to follow my routine today, and as a result I'm not playing well. I won't play well until I've cleared away all my bad energy, according to the new guy. Good thing I know what it'll take to fix it, even if the thought of it makes me queasy.

Nate skates over to the Shane to say some words to him.

Probably something complimentary seeing as he was able to score against Daniel. Our goalie is one of the best in the ECHL and if there was an opening in the NHL, I have no doubt he'd be called up. The man knows how to stop a biscuit.

Coach blows a whistle and the drill comes to an end.

"Alright team, time for lemon or lemon." Coach says.

"Isn't it supposed to be lemon or orange?" Shane asks.

Coach doesn't answer, simply says, "Line it up."

There's groaning among the team, and the Shane look around confused as we all move into position. The assistant coach, Coach York, produces a familiar bakery box. It's a box as white as the fresh ice in the rink, with Maria's logo printed on a sticker across the top. Coach York lifts the lid and shows off a lone lemon bar inside.

I shout in surprise, "That's mine!"

There are chuckles all around. All last season, and training camp, the team gave me a hard time over the lemon bars from the bakery since it's the only thing Maria will let me have. Nate slaps a gloved hand on my shoulder. "Have to earn it."

I glare at him. My lemon bar was missing from the bakery order this morning, and the smile on his face tells me that the one the assistant coach is holding is it.

"That's my Left-Wing Lemon Bar," I tell him, emphasizing the name.

Coach Hart interrupts whatever Nate was going to say to explain the rules. The rules for this drill are simple. Everyone lines up, everyone shoots, if you miss you're out of the line. Those still in the line continue to try and score when it's their turn. The line slowly whittles down until only one person is left who hasn't missed a goal. They'll win my lemon bar.

If you fail to score, you join the regular Lemon Line. That line operates similarly, except if you score, you're out of that line. Only those who haven't scored stay in that line until there's one person left who hasn't put the puck in the goal. That person has to take a bite out of a lemon, not a lemon bar.

Coach looks at me. "Hoffman, you're up."

Normally the winner of the first line gets to eat an orange or some other treat the coach approves of, the fact that Coach is using a lemon bar today lets me know that he's calling me out.

My game's been slipping and everyone knows it.

I take my position and cradle the puck with my stick as I skate it toward the goal.

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