Page 121 of Finding the Forward: Part One
“Probably from all the energy she expends,” AJ laughed.
Oh, right. The Knights would have a room for the MASOs with food and snacks. I had family room privileges for the Maimers but was usually too busy. The team also let me eat with them.
The game started back up and the team took to the ice. Dean stood in the net, ready for the puck. Jonas saw us and nodded.
“What position’s yours?” I asked AJ, as we watched Jonas keep one of the Sasquatch’s forwards away from the goal.
“Forward, like Grif. What did you play?” AJ reached into his laptop bag and pulled out a lump of silver and black fabric. Shrugging off his suit jacket, he pulled the jersey with Grif’s twenty-six on over his button down.
“Forward. Even after I didn’t go pro, I still played for fun.” I sniffed a little. While I was continuing to make good progress, I didn’t think I’d ever play again.
“Do you miss it?” He turned to look at me.
That’s one thing no one had asked. No one. Not even Creed or Mercy. It was like people forgot I’d still played after I graduated.
“I do.” My voice broke.
He squeezed my good knee.
Things got fast and furious down by the Sasquatches’ goal, as Grif tried to plow his way toward the net with the puck.
A bunch of players tussled for the puck. Clark tried to get it to Grif. Carlos taunted and teased the other players, trying to distract them, trip them, or otherwise get them away from his teammates and the net.
The problem was some woman that was small and fast like Carlos. She was everywhere our forwards wanted to be and not afraid to hit people.
“That’s Ellie, she's a force of nature on and off the ice. She played with Dean back on the Aces,” AJ told me.
“I can see that.” I frowned as Grif struggled to keep the puck away from the Sasquatches. He was trapped with no way to score. His only option seemed to be to pass.
Some giant fucker played defense. This guy wasbiggerthan Grif.
“That’s the Yeti. Nice guy, total brick wall on the ice,” AJ whispered.
“There’s a guy on the Sasquatches namedthe Yeti?” My eyebrows rose.
AJ shrugged. “Hockey nicknames are weird. Their goalie’s namedCooter.”
Cooter wasn’t that weird of a name. I’d gone to high school with one.
Grif shot the puck toward Clark. The Sasquatches scrambled for the puck as it slid across the ice. Clark ended up on the ground.
“Got it!” Carlos yelled, skating like his ass was on fire.
The Yeti got in his way. In something straight out of figure skating, Carlos slidunderhis legs. Carlos smacked the puck hard. It sailed through the air, hitting the bar of the goal, then bounced in before the Sasquatches’ goalie could block it. That goalie was fast.
Just not fast enough.
A song about cookies filled the air as Carlos stood there, dumbfounded.
“That’s my boy,” Carlos’s mom said from behind us, then yelled something in Spanish.
“That was wild. I would’ve never considered skatingintoa player and under his legs.” I told AJ as it replayed on the screens above.
“Kappas are crazy fuckers,” AJ replied.
“Yep.” I’d played with a kappa more than once. They were especially fun to afterparty with.
Funny music played. Dean turned in our direction and danced, making a heart with his fingers. The crowd laughed.
