Page 18 of The Poster Boy
“All right, now that I have your attention. The Calgary Bobcats are a tough team. Don’t underestimate them. They’re good, but we’re better.” Coach went into the standard pep talk before spending time listing their weak points. Their goalie had a good stick game but tended to let too many pucks bounce off of him and back into play, leaving them open for the rebound shot.
He talked about our lines and gave each of them a bit of praise, but a bit of criticism as well. He was balanced like that.
I spent the pep talk leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. I hadn’t expected to hear my name, but when I did, my head snapped up.
“Yes, Coach?” Suddenly I was in school all over again, standing at the front of class with everyone staring at me while the teacher told me off for being absentminded. But Coach O’Neil wasn’t telling me off. At least I didn’t thinkso.
“Sorry, say that again?” I asked, unsure if I heard him right.
Instead of scolding me, he shot me a smile like he’d been keeping a secret he could finally spill. “You’re starting tonight.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him a second time, but Andrew thumped me on the back and congratulated me. Meanwhile, I stared dumbstruck at Coach.
“What about Church?”
It must have been the wrong thing to ask because the dressing room went dead silent. Everyone wanted to know the same thing. What about Church? I was supposed to be back-up, not starting.
“I asked Coach to let me sit this one out.” Church’s confession was a bombshell and everyone erupted in noise and sound, indistinguishable from each other. Except for the fact that they were all reassuring Church. Telling him he could start. He could do it.
Church ignored all of them and looked at me across the room. “You’ve got this,” he told me.
God, I hoped he was right. I needed to have this. I couldn’t possibly fumble the first start with this team.
The season had barely begun so we were a long way off from worrying about qualifying for the playoffs, but it still felt like this was the most important game of my career. Church was having a hell of a time getting out of his head, and if anyone knew what that was like, it was me.
The Calgary fans nearly brought the house down with their cheering. I could feel the way they shook the building with their stomps and cheers. They made nearly as much noise for us as they did for their home team.
In my head, I sang my pregame song to hype myself up. It was a version ofO Fortuna, but with all the wrong words.The song amused me and helped me focus by giving my brain something to keep itself busy while I waited for that first puck to drop.
Calgary was on us right from the jump. They won the first face-off and brought the action right to my crease. The crowd cheered when one of them smashed one of our forwards against the boards. Too bad the player he passed the puck to missed the pass. I watched the play flow into the other end. We had our first line change, and I saw Jay come on the ice.
I tore my attention away from him just in time to see a black and orange jersey skating straight for me. He was coming in hot, taking full advantage of a breakaway. He was fast and agile, and unable to avoid Jay. He took his shot, which I caught in my glove. In the scramble to catch him, Jay slammed into him from behind, causing a pile-up in front of the net. Sending the black and orange jersey sailing into me, knocking me flat on my ass, the collision took our net off the post.
The black and orange jersey got to his feet and grinned down at me. “You good, mate?”
Jay was on his feet the next second, shoving his face into the Calgary player’s face as if it hadn’t been his own ass that caused the pile-up. Jay shoved at the guy, and I was on my feet the next second.
“Let it go, Jay. Don’t be an asshole.”
Jay’s gaze snapped to meet mine, and he scowled at me. And, frankly, I was sick of him looking at me like my mere existence offended him. It was hardly my fault that Church was having a rough start to his season. It definitely wasn’t my fault I’d been traded to his team. “Or is that your only setting? Grumpy fucker.”
Jay stared at me like I’d grown a second head, then resumed his glaring before he skated off.
“I can hold my own, you know. But thanks for calling off your guard dog.”
I kept the joke I wanted to make to myself. I could feel the weight of every single gaze in the arena on me.
“Just trying to keep your teeth in your face. Stay out of my crease…” I trailed off waiting for his name.
“Brayden. Also known as the guy who’s going to score the game-winning goal on you.” Brayden said as he skated backward away from me toward the face-off circle.
“Dream on.”
I tossed the puck to a ref, shook my limbs out, tilted my head to either side to crack my neck, and I got into position, waiting for that puck to drop.
We won the face-off, had a line change, and didn’t score a goal the entire first period. The good news was that neither did Calgary.
When we made it back to the dressing room for the first intermission, Andrew dropped on the bench next to me and knocked his knee against mine. “Good first period.”
