Page 95 of Icy Pucking Play

"Better for whom?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?"

"Because we all read the original draft. The real one." He leans forward. "The one that made me actually care about hockey."

"Well, this one's more objective."

"This one's garbag and you know it."

My phone buzzes—probably another concerned text from Julia or Cynthia or...

I turn it face down without looking.

"Lexi wants to see you," Brad says after a moment. "About the new draft."

"Great." I stand on shaky legs. "Perfect. Just what I need today."

"Sophie…"

"Don't." I gather my notes. "Just...don't."

Lexi's office feels colder than usual, or maybe that's just me. She's sitting behind her desk, surrounded by both versions of my feature—the original one full of heart and family moments, and the new version I finished at three a.m. last night after I couldn’t sleep.

"Sit," she says without looking up.

I perch on the edge of the chair, trying not to fidget.

"So," she finally looks at me, "want to tell me what this is?"

She holds up the new draft.

"It's more objective," I say for what feels like the hundredth time today. "More professional."

"It's trash."

"I—what?"

"You heard me." She tosses it aside. "This isn't journalism, Sophie. This is you hiding."

"I'm not hiding. I'm being…"

"Professional? Please." She picks up the original draft. "This is incredible. This is real journalism. Showing the human sideof sports, making people care about more than just stats and scores."

"That version was too personal."

"That version was perfect." She studies me carefully. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Really? So this has nothing to do with what happened at Giovanni's last night?"

I freeze. "How did you…"

"Please. Half the restaurant's staff live-tweeted it." She pulls up her phone. "'Ice Man lives up to name, decks sleazy agent.' 'Hockey drama at Giovanni's’. My personal favorite, 'Best dinner theater ever, five stars’."

"Oh God."

"Indeed." She sets her phone down. "Want to tell me the real story?"

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