Page 73 of Loving Ladybug: Part One
I loved Castle. She was a forward, and tall, blonde, and muscular. We’d played against each other a bit in junior hockey. Also, she was a Bantam and had filled in a few times last year. She was friends with Carlos and some of the Maimers and occasionally popped up at Dimitri’s parties.
“Hey, Castle. Okay, Rink B, six on six. Now,” Jonas growled.
“I’ll ref,” Dean offered. “I think we’re crashing Ladybug’s practice party.”
He gave them what was probably meant to be a menacing grin. Dean was a big, himbo goofball even when his lips weren’t blue with snow cone.
“Why are you hesitating? Move,” Jonas growled.
The developmental camp players left, hurrying over to Rink B.
“You sure?” I asked Dean.
“I have a snow cone. We were here to be a menace, because Mercy needed to practice some jumps.” He shrugged. “Also, you get a taco for every shot you block.”
“I do? Do I have to eat them all at once? I can’t out-eat Dimitri in a taco eating contest.” I always came in second. Sometimes third, depending on who joined in at Taco Hut for dollar tacos.
“Nope,” Dean replied.
“Sounds good. Please bribe me with tacos.” I grabbed my gear.
As we walked over to the ice, Jonas assigned everyone else a spot, and Grif went to go get his and Jonas’ sticks.
Clark was center, Carlos left wing, Grif Graf right. Jonas and Dimitri were defense. Anders was on reserve. I threw on some gear. When I joined them on the ice, Dean was standing there in the middle, with awhistleand his snow cone.
Coach Steve Atkins appeared along with some of the other campers, who, like the ones positioned on the other side of Rink B, all wore their matchy-matchy developmental camp outfits.
“Double D, am I interrupting something?” Coach gave Dean an amused look. Coach Atkins was a big guy, and older, with graying hair, but still fit. He was a bit of a legend, having won several championships andthe Olympics.Which was also where he’d met most of his pack.
“One of your hoodlums likes to mouth off. So we’re going to see if they play as good as they talk, Coach,” Jonas replied, giving Windy a hard stare.
“I want to make substitutions.” Windy looked over at the other players.
“No.” Jonas shook his head.
Coach’s eyes fell on me. “If Dean’s ref, who’s in the net?”
“Ladybug,” Jonas replied.
I skated back and forth, getting the crease ready, since the ice looked freshly resurfaced.
It wasn’t a bad lineup. Unfortunately, Windy was good. Better than Austin. Coach had everyone not playing take a seat. Dean announced the rules, then he blew his whistle and we were off.
Over and over, I ignored Windy and blocked his shots. One from Castle got through, but that was after Grif had scored twice on their goalie. As much as I hated letting pucks in, I remembered what my nonna’s neighbor had told me.
It’s okay if you let one in sometimes, the trick is to let in less than the other goalie.
There was a lot of sweat and determined faces because, unlike a normal game, there were no line changes. It didn’t bother me. I was a goalie and we played the whole fucking game. My team was up three to one. I’d blocked five shots.
Dean blew the whistle. “Time.”
Windy didn’t stop, going right for me, knocking Dimitri over, then he hit a slap shot, low and hard, right at me. This particular version wasn’t legal in the PHL, but was in collegiate hockey.
Windy and Austin liked it because it meant the goalie had to drop to stop it. One advantage of being shorter was that I didn’t have as far to go. I caught the puck in my glove.
Mine.
Windy palmed my mask with enough force to make me fall backward.
