Page 21 of Fresh Ice
Stronger than anything in Alonso, apparently.
Alonso stepped out of his room, feeling like he was about to be ambushed. The only thing waiting for him was Levy’s cheerful face as he grabbed the car keys.
“You ready to go?” Levy asked.
“Yeah,” Alonso said, barely audible.
Levy watched him carefully but didn’t comment. They were in the car when he started trying to engage Alonso in conversation, but it was impossible to connect.
He used to feel anxiety a lot when he was a kid. He’d never told anybody, but he’d try and describe it to himself.
It was like ants crawling inside him, eating him away. It was like wanting to rip his skin off and run but having nowhere to escape. It was like drowning in a bubbling mass of shame and hate, every breath a fight.
Alonso had gotten better at handling the feeling. A big part of it, he had to admit, was staying away from people, avoiding close relationships. Not just to keep his secret safe, but because that way, he couldn’t disappoint anybody else.
It was good, obviously, how hard his dad was on him, but Alonso couldn’t take any more of it. To make a friend only to find out they thought the same—that he was weak, and lazy, and incompetent—was too much to take.
Levy had circumvented that fear through sheer determination. Now, though, Alonso felt so exposed his skin was raw with it.
It was painful, being under Levy’s light when Alonso was scared of what he would see.
That fear seeped into their every interaction from then on. Levy would chatter and joke, and Alonso would struggle to react, let alone engage. It was affecting Levy, his eyes sad and pleading when he looked at him, but there was nothing Alonso could do.
He was stuck in his own head, and there was no way out.
Embarrassingly, even Gabby noticed the change, assessing him shrewdly one day before practice. “You okay, kid?”
Alonso jumped, not expecting to be talked to, but recovered quickly. “Yeah. Why? Did the coach say something? I know I haven’t scored in two games, but—”
“I’m not talking about your game, kid. I’m asking ifyou’reokay.”
“Oh. Uhm. Yeah,” Alonso replied uncertainly.
“Hey…I know the first year is tough, but you can’t do it alone. You gotta lean onsomeone, okay? If it isn’t me, then someone else, but I got you if you wanna talk.”
Alonso’s chest tightened. “Okay. Thanks, Cap.”
Gabby nodded, and Alonso made a mental note to put on a braver face in the locker room. He didn’t want to worry anybody.
Despite the silence that had stagnated between Alonso and Levy, their chemistry on the ice was still magnetic.
The Portland Orcas were in town, and they’d crushed the Hounds during the first period, but, for once, the momentum swung back their way. They’d scored three unanswered goals, all from the third line, and Alonso could practically smell the equaliser as his line was put on the ice again.
Alonso got crunched into the boards by one of the Orcas but managed to slip the puck between his legs to Tinny, one of his defencemen. The pass connected beautifully, puck taken into the neutral zone a moment later.
Alonso shoved the Orca off and raced after his teammates as they approached the opposing team’s blue line, crossing it messily as the puck was dumped deep into the zone.
“Skate, skate,” Alonso shouted as they went after it, Gray rimming it around the boards so that it shot right to Tinny, who was waiting by Orcas’ blue line.
Levy slammed his stick against the ice to get Tinny’s attention. One of the Orcas tried to block the shooting lane, but the puck slipped between his legs and right to Levy’s tape. The puck bounced in a perfect arc to Alonso.
Alonso barely had to do anything. He tilted his stick, and the puck went over the goalie’s pad.
“Let’sgo,” Levy screamed as he jumped into Alonso’s arms, the crowd going crazy.
The rest of the guys on the ice crashed into them. Alonso could feel the electricity of potential crackling between them—they could win this game.
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