Page 41 of Overtime
“Ref, are you blind?” the guy yells, and if looks could kill, my whole bloodline would be dead.
Alas. Now we’re in a power play for the last minute of the game.
We score a second goal, and the celebration all around the arena threatens to blow my eardrums. I’m sure Coach Green will be screaming at me too, and it won’t be from happiness, even if I got the job done.
The final buzzer goes off. As I skate away from the net, I’m intercepted by half the team. They slam into me, raising their sticks and their voices as if we’ve just won the national championship.
“Dude, that was sick!” one of them says.
“Shit, you should’ve gotten an assist for that.”
“It was stone cold, bro.”
I snort. Maybe that’s why they call me Aran “the Iceberg” Rodriguez. And here I thought it was because I’m hardheaded.
“Yeah, yeah. Get off me.” I shove my stick at the nearest guy, and one by one, they peel off.
“Duuude!”
I would recognize that voice in my sleep, even if I hadn’t already seen him. Whirling around, I head for the back of my net, where my little sister Olivia and her best friend Brooklyn parked themselves. They had ample view of my ass during most of the game.
“I have no words,” Brooklyn says, shaking his head as I brake before him and my sister. “How could you even think of leaving your net like that? Like, bro, you have some cajones.”
“It’s cojones, you fool.” She smacks his arm. “With an o.”
“Cowjones?”
Aceituna rolls her eyes at her friend. Sometimes, they come watch my games with other kids from Brooklyn’s high school hockey team, and a couple of girlfriends that my sister tolerates. This time, it’s just the two of them.
I trap a glove against my side with my elbow, and with the free hand, remove my mask. “Is this a date?”
Neither of them reacts right away. Until, as if rehearsed, Liv bursts into cackles and Brooklyn’s mouth gapes.
“What? No!”
“As if.” My sister snorts between laughs.
I hum. Luz and I have long suspected that these two have a thing, but we haven’t caught theminfraganti.
“Right, don’t be out too late. And Brooklyn?”
“Yeah?” He frowns a bit.
“If you get my little sister in any trouble, I will skewer you with this stick.” I lift the weapon. “Got it?”
“Got it. Not gonna happen.”
“Get her home early.”
I push away from the boards and file off the ice. Some people remain in the stands, and there are claps as I head into the tunnel.
By the time I make it to the locker room, Coach is in full swing.
“—for the last three minutes, this game would’ve been a bust!”
I consider standing by the door and letting the worst of his screaming blow over, but just like I have a built-in radar for the puck, he has one for me. He turns around and points directly at my face.
“And you. What the hell was that, Rodriguez?”
