Page 18 of Fear of Falling

“Boone, Jekin, Lukugv, Lewis!”

When I hopped the boards I took a few deep breaths, knowing I needed to focus. It may be practice, but what we do here reflects on game day—and I had to prove myself. As Captainof the team, it was my job to make sure we were a well-oiled machine. I knew I needed to play better than I had—I owed it to my team.

The honor of becoming Captain this year was a huge deal. Someone my age typically doesn’t get the privilege. It usually goes to one of the older guys on the team with more experience. I made a vow to be the best Captain the Knights have seen and I wasn’t about to break that now.

I lined up against my ‘opposing’ teammate, anchoring my skate into the ice. With one last deep breath I centered myself. As soon as the puck was live, I took off after it. I was known for my speed and ability to make a shot regardless of the situation. I could have four guys on me and still find a small space to smack the puck. It was second nature, I just had to get back to playing like I was before the injury. Something that was harder than I imagined it would be.

I pushed aside thoughts of my injury and how badly I’d played since my return. Instead, I focused on practice and pushing myself harder, hoping in some way, it helped make up for our shitty playing. I knew I wasn’t the only one at fault for our losing streak. We lose as a team. We win as a team. But that did little to ease the feeling that I was the one at fault.

By the time Coach blew his whistle I was breathing hard and sweating. I may have pushed myself a tad bit too hard for just a scrimmage but as I skated my way back to the bench my teammates each patted me on the back. I gave them a nod, trying to down-play how happy that made me as I took a seat on the bench. Fixing my pads, I tried to slow my breathing as the next set of four went out onto the ice.

“You were playing pretty hard there. Thinking of a certain someone?” Trevor nudged me.

“Maybe he got laid after all, and he's been holding out on us,” Bryton added.

“Oh, fuck off,” I growled, as Trevor started making dirty hand gestures. I rolled my eyes.

“Boys.” All it took was one word from Coach to shut us all up. We were all grown-ass men but none of us were going to correct him calling us that. I rammed my elbow into Trevor’s side for getting us in trouble.

When the last scrimmage was called to an end, I had a small amount of hope we were done for the day. Then Coach said one word that brought those hopes crashing down.

Suicides!”

The entire team let out a chorus of groans but one hard look from Coach shut us right up. Setting our sticks down we all made our way to the far side of the ice.

I’m definitely going to feel this.

“You will go back and forth until I say otherwise. If one person gets left behind, we start over.” Without another word Coach blew the whistle. As one we all pushed off the ice and skated for the other side.

I purposely kept my pace a little slow, not going full out, with Trevor and Bryton on either side of me. We all knew we’d be there awhile.

My skates cut through the ice with a satisfying sound, pieces of ice flying as I angled the blade sideways to slow down a little, before pivoting and shooting back the way I came. Each pass had my lungs straining against my chest. My thighs burned after the tenth pass, but I welcomed it. I think on some level, professional athletes were masochists. Why else would we put our bodies through pain over and over again.

After twenty-five passes, we all started showing our fatigue, each of us breathing heavily. This was definitely punishment for how shitty we’d played. I couldn’t recall the last time Coach pushed us this time.

By the thirtieth pass, I was done for. As I was about to tempt fate and signal for Coach to call it, he suddenly blew the whistle. Instantly the sounds of blades on ice came to an abrupt stop. A few guys buckled onto the ice, rolling onto their backs as they tried to catch their breath. Others moved to the sideboards looking either ready to pass out or throw up. Or both.

Knowing if I didn’t keep moving my legs would seize, I took a slow lap around the rink. Sweat ran down from under my helmet, down the back of my jersey and my face. I longed for a hot shower.

Spotting a row of fresh water bottles on the sideboards I made my way over, instantly squeezing the bottle through my face guard and into my mouth. I guzzled the water, reveling in how good it was after such an intense session. My legs burned. No doubt we’d all be sore tomorrow.

Lowering the water bottle, I noticed the sudden change of conversation next to me.

“I think someone is lost.”

“Are the cheerleaders holding tryouts?”

“Damn.”

Curious, I pushed off the board and turned around. It took a second for me to work out what everyone was talking about…or more like who.

Josie.

9

WYATT

Am I really that gone that I’m imagining her now?

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