Page 36 of Unrecognizable Player

Alice grabsme after class and pulls me out onto the path leading around the football field. The team are practicing. The sound of random shouting and a ball goingdoomftis weirdly soothing. She’s been talking since the second we stepped outside, but I’ve tuned out.

“Are you listening?” Alice tugs my arm.

“Of course I am. Mischa’s the best yada yada yada.”

She pinches me.

“I’m happy for you, honestly, he seems nice.”

“And Alexei is nice for coming with us.”

I ignore that. Ignore how hot my face feels. “And me?”

“Yes and you, so…”

I don’t like that tone.

“Wanna come to the hockey game tonight?”

“No way. I’ve got studying to do.”

She pulls on my arm, throwing a mini tantrum. “Oh come on Steffy.”

“Careful, your Verruca Salt’s showing.”

“Fuck you.” She laughs. “You’ve been to games with me before.”

“Yes, so I have proof of why I don’t want to go again. It’s loud and cold and crowded and you’ll be busy playing trumpet and won’t even speak to me anyway.”

“I know but Mischa’s gonna be there and I’ll be nervous.”

“What’s there to be nervous about?”

“Pleaaaaase?”

Oh come on, surely she’s doing it on purpose now?

But she is my best friend. And she took me in when I needed a place to stay. She cooks me comfort food and attempts to teachme languages, and skincare, it’s the least I can do. And after all, it’s just one hockey game.

“Fine.”

“Yay!” She throws her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek.

“But I’m not cheering for anyone, or eating a hot dog.”

“You don’t have to.”

“And if a puck hits me in the head, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

She makes a gesture of crossing her heart. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

I thinkthe last sporting event I attended was a football game. Alice dragged me to that one too. I remember the noise, the crush of the crowd and a general aura of testosterone. But this is magnified because it’s enclosed. The noise gets trapped within the walls. The smell of bodies, beer and what I’m guessing to be some sort of chemical freezing treatment keeping the rink from turning to mush.

Alice is wearing a sweater with the college logo stitched across the chest. Her trumpet under her arm. She waves me over as soon as she sees me awkwardly trying to make my way through the stands.

Of course I look out of place. Everyone’s wearing hockey jerseys. A sea of orange and black. I’m wearing the duffel coat my mom bought me last winter and a pair of chinos and Converse.

“You look nice,” Alice says. There’s a hint of accusation there I try to ignore. I did not dress up for Alexei. He’s not even going to notice I’m here.

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