Page 60 of Overtime
Brutal mental image, but it does the trick.
I skate back out to the same side I had during first period. I know I’m closer to her now, but I force myself to keep my eyes on the ice.
Even though number 4 gets checked so hard toward the end of the game that he gets taken away by the medics, even though I make a save during PK that gets the whole arena roaring, we still lose three to two.
I’m so angry at myself that I march into the locker room, change out of my skates and into boots, grab my shit, and head right out to my car, all smelly and wet like a rat. But I can’t be around anyone right now. If Edwards so much as runs his stinking yap in front of me, I’ll probably break his face and get suspended from school altogether.
Plugging in my phone, I find the angriest hard rock band I listen to and drive away. It’s dark out, but the night is clear, not a snowflake in sight. On a Friday night like this, while every St. Cloud student hits the bars or whatever houseparty they can find, I drive as far away as I can. Away from Coach’s disappointment, from Archie’s eagerness to talk, from my teammates’ exhaustion. Away from Strawberry.
The second I make it to my secret spot, I’ll put in a request to cancel the rest of my tutoring sessions. I already know enough to not flunk my essays. I’ll say hockey has me too busy and that they should assign someone else to her so she doesn’t lose income. And yeah, she’s my neighbor now, but not seeing her on purpose will help. It has to.
It better. I can’t keep playing like tonight. Coach was right all along. My professional hockey career is on the line.
My heart slams against my rib cage as if I’m still in the middle of the game, even though I’m pulling down the back road that leads to my favorite spot by the lake. Here, it’s pitch black, the only illumination coming from the stars in the sky. Normally, I relish in the dark and the quiet, but tonight I’m just determined to be abnormal, huh?
The music cuts off, and I flinch. I ignore the ringtone for a moment because 99 percent of the people who could be calling me right now have to know I’m in my worst mood.
But I glance at the screen on my dashboard. Turns out I’m getting called by the 1 percent.
Pulling over, I turn on my hazard lights and pick up.
“Hey, Aran.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Geez.” I can practically hear her roll her eyes. “Is this how you should be greeting your favorite little sister?”
“Yes, because you never call me.” It could be because tonight has been a fiasco already, but hearing Olivia’s voice puts me on high alert. “Something’s up.”
It’s not even a question. But she evades it.
“How was tonight’s game?”
“Don’t even try me, Olivia. I know you don’t give a shit about hockey. What is happening?”
“Well…”
“You better start talking right this second.”
“Fine.” She clears her throat. “So, Brooke is taking me to the hospital.”
“What?”
“Deep breaths, big guy. It’s just preventive care. I, uh, may have accidentally sipped from a peanut butter smoothie.”
“You did freaking whataccidentally? I will murder that kid?—”
There’s a little gasp, and then my sister’s voice sounds annoyed. “Brooklyn didn’t shove the straw in my mouth, you know.”
“He should’ve been watching!”
“It’s not his job!” Olivia takes a deep breath. “Anyway, come to the hospital, because I’ll need an adult. But don’t tell Mom and Dad.”
“The hell I won’t.” I grit my teeth, turn off the hazard lights, and make a U-turn in the dark. “I’ll take care of the paperwork. But then I’m taking you straight home to our parents, who will ground you until you graduate.”
“But—”
“Brooklyn?” I bark.
