Page 107 of Unrecognizable Player

You sure man?

Yeah, positive

If I force him to see me now, it’ll be for me, for my state of mind, not his. I’m not about to fuck up his big show, and like Pawlowski said, he has Alice. She’ll know how to help him prepare for this thing better than I can. And then there’s this Dartmouth game. Something else I can’t afford to fuck up.

The gameagainst Dartmouth is at their arena in Hanover.

Pawlowski sits next to me on the bus and pretends he can’t see me checking my messages every five seconds to see if Stef has texted.

I’ve promised myself I’ll leave him alone. But if he texts saying he needs me, you’d best believe I’ll drop everything and be right there.

It scares the shit out of me to know that I’d even consider getting off this bus right now and go to him, but I know he’d never ask or expect me to do that, and that makes me want to do it even more.

I share my headphones with Pawlowski, but I’m not even listening to the music. I can’t. All my favorite songs remind me of Steff. And when SZA comes on, I can’t help but think about him playing it for me on his violin and I have to skip it. Pawlowski looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. He must understand. That’s mine and Stef’s song. Even if the lyrics don’t exactly make the best love song.

The arena is packed.The Dartmouth crowd looking for a win. They’re just below us in the standings right now and they’re gonna be out for blood. Just as hungry as we are.

It’s always harder to play an away game. The momentum in the arena is against you. And you don’t have the support of your home crowd. And if you’re Pawlowski, your girlfriend isn’t playingWe Are the Championsfor you on her trumpet every time you find the back of the net.

I hope the team can’t sense my low mood as I give them a pre-game pep talk in the locker room. It’s not their fault I’m a fuck-up off the ice. The least I can do is give it everything I’ve got out there. Be something other than a fuck-up in at least one aspect of my life.

My dad comes to every away game too, and I know he’ll be in the stands, watching, judging every move I make. But at least I’ll have to get straight on the bus after the game and he won’tbe able to dissect it all over dinner. I get to escape the autopsy at least.

Dartmouth’s men are on me from the off. I take more hits in the first ten minutes than I have in most of our games this season.

I shake it off. They’re going for my bad shoulder, but I’ve learned how to protect it as best I can.

It only gets worse after I score the opening goal with an assist from Pawlowski. I’m smashed into the boards, I get tripped, hit with a stick, elbowed in the face. I feel like the number one draft pick out there in my rookie season. A target on my back.

A huge D-man who looks about 25-years old hits me with a fucking hip check and takes my legs out from under me.

I go smashing onto the ice, luckily on my good side, and get straight back up. If these dicks wanna see how tough I can be, then I’ll show them.

They score a leveler on a power play just before the end of the first period and we go into the locker room feeling shellshocked.

“These guys are fucking crazy,” Pawlowski says. “You okay Cap?”

“I’m fine.”

“They want your blood.”

“Well, they’re not gonna get it.”

We go back out fighting. Throwing back everything they throw at us. I have to remind the freshmen to keep it clean. We don’t wanna give away any stupid penalties. We can beat these guys through tactics and perseverance.

Pawlowski wins the puck in the corner behind Dartmouth’s goal and I’m there to pick it up, lighting the lamp with a second game goal.

This only makes the target on my back bigger. I’m on a breakaway, cruising through center ice and about to shoot when something crashes into me on the bad side. I feel something.A sickening pop. Dread rushing through me. A cold sweat prickling the back of my neck.

I try to keep skating.

Dartmouth has the puck now and the center is heading towards our net. But the pain in my shoulder is so bad, I think I’m gonna throw up.

I skate over to the bench and have to lean on the boards. But when I lift my arm, the pain that shoots through my shoulder is unbearable.

No no no no no no no no. Please. Not yet. Not now. Just hold out until the end of the season. Let me have one more year before I lose hockey forever.

Coach pulls me off. The guys on the bench helping me off the ice.

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