Page 81 of The Riley Effect

I listen to Jalen’s words three more times before I find Indy.

“Why are you smiling like that? You look like a murderous clown.”

“How do you feel about Raleigh?”

It takes her a second.

“Raleigh, as in Raleigh, North Carolina, where the hockey team is playing for a National Championship tomorrow?”

“Yes, that Raleigh, let’s go support our men!”

38

Jalen

My shoulders sag as I check my phone to see if I have a message from Ivy. It is just like the other seventy-four times I checked. There is nothing.

I don’t have time to dwell on it because I have a team to lead. Westvale will be National Champions at the end of these three periods. I finish tying my skates when Byron takes the seat next to mine.

“I can’t believe that this could be the last time we take the ice as teammates.”

It’s weird to think that I won’t be playing with Byron next year. The only time we didn’t suit up together was during myfreshman year at Westvale when Byron was finishing his last year of high school.

“There is always a chance we get drafted by the same team.”

“Could you imagine two kids from New York City who learned to play hockey because of a youth program in Brooklyn playing on their home team in the NHL?”

“Crazier things have happened.”

I look at my lifelong friend and say something men don’t say to each other nearly enough.

“I love you, man. Let’s go kick ass one more time.”

We are a little too bulky in all of our pads to hug each other. We settle for a fist bump and make our way to the ice.

We win the face-off and quickly move the puck to The University Of Minnesota’s side of the ice. Byron sees that he has me ahead of him, and I think I have a clear shot at the goal. Until Minnesota’s defenseman gets a cheap shot at me, and everything I have withheld since Ivy broke up with me pours out. I get a couple of good shots in before the ref pulls us apart, and I’m ushered two minutes in the penalty box.

Unfortunately for me, the intensity of this sport, paired with the emotions of knowing this is my last game at Westvale, plus not knowing if Ivy will ever forgive me, has me spending more minutes than I have all season sitting my ass in the penalty box.

At the second intermission, Aaron pulls me aside.

“Dude. Get your shit together.”

He pushes me in the chest in between each word.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I think everything has just been piling on, and the first hit just lit it all on fire.” Aarron’s eyes stay locked on me.

“I think I just kind of needed that release,” I shrug.

“I get it, man.”

His gloved hand lands on my shoulder.

“But get your shit together. We got one more period, that’s it.”

Twenty more minutes of playing for the Retrievers.

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