Page 13 of Neo

“Yep.”

“I think people are talking about us too,” I murmur.

“Yes, they probably are,” she says casually, reaching inside her crossbody purse for something.

“Why?” I ask incredulously.

“Because we are the anointed ones,” she says facetiously, as she applies a layer of a pinkish-brown lip gloss to her lips. “Members of the Valencia Ice Mafia actually spoke to us and during a game at that,” she scoffs. “Wemustbe special.”

“The Valencia Ice Mafia?”

“Some random person in their infinite wisdom nicknamed them that, and it stuck. Now those nut jobs run with it. Some random business major even put the nickname on some merchandise and runs a side hustle selling the stuff on Etsy.”

“Just those two?”

“No, there’s more of them.”

“Dare I ask why that’s their nickname?”

“The VCU ice program used to suck until they brought in an NHL legend turned coach who completely turned the program upside down. In a shocking move, he got rid of all the old players and replaced them with a whole new squad. All freshmen. And they were the most lethal incoming freshman class to ever play in our conference. Now that they’re older, bigger and definitely cockier on the ice, they’re even more formidable. Hell, a few of them could easily go pro right now.”

“Then why don’t they?”

“They’ve made a pact to stay together until they win their coach the big championship. He suffered a major heart attack last year,” she says solemnly. “And he had to take a leave of absence from coaching.”

“Oh, no.” I say. Already shaken by the fragility of life, now that my mother has been abruptly taken from me. “Is he okay?”

“It was a pretty bad one. He’s had one surgery already, and I think he has to have another.”

“This may be a stupid question, but if the team is so good, why haven’t they won the championship already?”

An older couple sitting two rows in front of us turn their heads when I ask that.

“Lower your voice,” Kennedy hushes me. “Most of the people in this section donate big money to the hockey program and are wondering the same thing.”

“Oh,” I whisper. “Sorry.”

“To answer your question though, in my opinion the Suns are good, often even great, but they’re also dirty.”

“What do you mean?”

“They don’t call them the Ice Mafia for nothing. They get more penalties than any other team in our division. Other schools hate us. The refs hate us. We’re probably the most hated college hockey team in the states.”

“So the team fights a lot? I’ve seen that on the news before. I never understood why hockey is so violent and the referees allow it.”

“Fighting happens in the pro league, but that kind of behavior gets you disqualified in college hockey. They can’t do that…or let’s say, they shouldn’t, especially off the ice.”

“But they do?”

“I’ll put it like this. If anyone has the balls to start something with one of them, there will be carnage.”

Carnage?

Hell, that’s a huge red flag for me. While I understand human beings are flawed, I don’t understand why anyone purposely tries to hurt another human. It’s part of why I want to be a lawyer. So if these guys have a propensity for violence, I’m definitely not going to any house party or kickback where they’re going to be. Kennedy will just have to understand.

“Okay, here they go,” she claps excitedly. “Try paying attention this time. I promise you it’s a lot more fun if you watch and try understanding the rules. Keep your eye on those three.”

I take a sip of a Diet Coke our server brings to us and watch as Number seventeen moves with incredible speed and precision across the ice. It appears as if he’s the player setting the tempo of the game, although he never seems to get a chance to make a goal. He tends to hit the puck over to Shane or the other guy Kennedy mentioned to watch.

---