Page 54 of Gamechanger

"Ooh!" The locker room erupted in laughter and catcalls.

Blaise clutched his chest in mock pain. "Et tu, Finn? I thought we were bros!"

"Children, please," Coach Fraser's voice boomed as he entered. "Save some energy for the ice, yeah?"

As the laughter died down, Sergei caught my eye from across the room. "Ready to fly, Novak?"

I looked up, surprised by the earnest tone in his usually gruff voice. His face was a map of the season's highs and lows, but his eyes held nothing but respect.

"Born ready," I shot back, the confidence in my voice catching me off guard. A few months ago, I'd have mumbled something self-deprecating. Now? I felt the truth of it in my bones.

As I stood to grab my stick, Axel clapped me on the shoulder. "Go get 'em, kid," he said, his gruff tone belying the warmth in his eyes.

I nodded, throat suddenly tight with emotion. "Thanks, Axel."

Blaise bounded over, practically vibrating with pre-game energy. "Alright, let's do this! For pride, for glory, for... whatever comes after glory!"

"For making sure Blaise doesn't embarrass himself on live TV?" I quipped, earning another round of laughter.

As we filed out towards the ice, the familiar scents of sweat and stick tape filled my nostrils. The distant roar of the crowd grew louder with each step, sending adrenaline surging through my veins.

As we lined up for the national anthem, I caught Moose's eye in the stands. He gave me a subtle nod, and suddenly, I felt ten feet tall.

The puck dropped, and the world narrowed to the flash of blades on ice, the staccato rhythm of sticks clashing. I lost myself in the flow of the game, my body moving on instinct, faster than thought.

First period was a blur of near-misses and bone-jarring checks. I took a hard hit against the boards, the impact rattling my teeth, but I shook it off and kept moving. No way was I slowing down, not tonight.

"Nice hit, Novak!" Sergei bellowed as I stole the puck and cleared our zone. "Show them we're no pushovers!"

The crowd's roar washed over me as I streaked down the ice, looking for an opening. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Blaise breaking free of his defender.

"Blaise!" I shouted, feinting left before sending a crisp pass his way. He one-timed it, the puck whistling past the goalie's glove.

The horn blared, and I was there to slam into his celebration hug. "Atta boy!" I yelled over the crowd's cheers. "Told you those protein bites would pay off!"

But our lead was short-lived. The opposition came back hard in the second period, hemming us in our own zone. I felt my lungs burning as I chased down loose pucks, desperately trying to relieve the pressure.

"Come on, men!" Axel's voice cut through the chaos. "Stop playing like boys. Dig deep! We're not done yet!"

Midway through the second, I saw my opening. Their defenseman telegraphed his pass, and I pounced, interceptingthe puck and breaking away. The ice opened up before me, nothing between me and the goalie but sixty feet of pristine white.

Time seemed to slow. I could hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears, feel every inch of the ice beneath my blades. The goal grew larger as I approached, the goalie's movements slowing to a crawl in my perception.

I feinted left, watching the goalie commit. Then, in one fluid motion, I pulled the puck back and flicked it top shelf, right where mama keeps the cookies.

The horn blared, and suddenly I was at the bottom of a dogpile, my teammates' ecstatic yells filling my ears. As we disentangled ourselves, I caught a glimpse of Moose in the stands, on his feet, pumping his fist in the air. My heart soared higher than any goal could send it.

The third period was a war of attrition. Both teams were running on fumes, but neither willing to give an inch. I took another shift, legs burning, lungs screaming for air. But I pushed through, chasing down every puck, fighting for every inch of ice.

With two minutes left, we were down by one. Coach called a timeout, his face intense as he outlined our final play.

"Novak, you're our speed. I need you to create chaos out there, open up some space. Sergei, Axel, be ready for the rebound. This is our last shot, make it count."

The face off was a blur. I darted through gaps in their defense, drawing attention, creating openings. Blaise got the puck, fired a shot. The goalie made the save, but the rebound kicked out right to Axel's stick.

Time seemed to stand still as Axel wound up. The puck left his stick like a rocket, heading for the top corner. For a moment, I thought we had it.

But their goalie somehow got a piece of it, deflecting it just wide of the post. The final buzzer sounded, and just like that, our season was over.

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