Page 41 of Breaking Away

“Don’t need it. Nothing is going on. She’s here for one game, then we’re done.”

When we hit the ice, I notice Kavi isn’t sitting alone anymore.

Matt sees, too. “Quinn’s goth step-sister is here.”

“No disrespect to anyone’s sister,” says Emmad, our forward moving to get into formation. “But don’t stare at her too directly or she’ll curse us.”

Hughes pulls up, a strange tightness crossing his face. “Sonya is here?”

When the whistle blows, the physicality is immediate. Down a goal, the other team is hungry to tie up the score. They are aggressive, but don’t stand a chance against Hughes’s puck handling.

He accusedmeof playing differently. Suddenly, he’s running through the other team’s defense, single-handedly.

Thirty-seconds into the third period, he scores.

I watch him skate a victory lap that finishes right in front of Kavi and Quinn’s sister, who isn’t giving him the time of day. She’s absorbed in a book. Kavi, on the other hand, can’t help but smile.

Hughes says something to Kavi.

I’m not breathing as I stare at them. My lungs burn as I remind myself to stay focused.

My role is to clear the puck, and to protect Quinn from having to defend the net. I shut down the other team’s approach, and make that strategic pass out of our zone so our offense can get a quick break. Defend. Rinse. Repeat.

The Wings are winning today two-zero because we’ve kept everything locked tight on our end.

I should be relieved.

Scratch that. I should feel nothing. The sports psychologist I work with idolizes the compartmentalization skills I have. I can block out everything.

It’s what my dad has forced into my head for years. Don’t change. Execute the same, no matter what. Have zero distractions.

At age six, I’d gotten bullied by older kids. When I came home with my lip split, the first thing he’d asked me was whether I threw any punches.

“I made them run away, Pop.”

For that, I got assigned drills on the ice.

Next time, you don’t engage. Be a block of ice, Dmitri. You can’t get careless.

See the puck, win the puck, and knock the puck out of the zone.

It’s not complicated, but for some reason, I can’t do all that right now.

My blood pumps enough to make my ears howl. Everything inside me seizes with sharp, tangy anticipation. I’m tense as a brick.

The whistle blows so we can play again.

And that’s when I know for certain.

I’m so fucked.

Because what I do next jeopardizes my knee, but I can’t make myself stop.

My game changes.

16

KAVI

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