Page 38 of Reaper and Ruin
X waved back that he was okay, then tried to get back up on his feet. Which proved difficult with all the pads on. He rolled from his back to his front, then tried to get up onto all fours, but his feet slipped out from him each time.
Violet covered her mouth with her hand.
“Don’t laugh!” I said to her, unable to hide my own laughter.
X slid himself along the ice on his stomach, narrowly missing the blades of other skaters, all of them staring at him and shaking their heads as they zoomed past.
“I’m not!” she protested, but her snort of amusement couldn’t be contained. “He’s like one of those penguins sliding on their bellies.”
X finally got himself back up on his feet, but only because one of the guys was nice enough to stop and help him to the railing.
“Thanks, MacIntosh!” X called, waving off the guy as he skated away, his last name printed across the back of his local league jersey. X glared back up at us. “That’s my new friend. Who I’m going to replace all of you with since he’s the only one not laughing right now.”
We all sobered.
“Sorry,” I called back, making sure the laughter was fully removed from my voice. “You’re doing great. You’ve got this.”
X gave us a thumbs-up, then attempted to strike what I think was supposed to be a confident, athletic pose, one hand on his hip and the hockey stick slung across his shoulders like a sword.
He immediately lost his footing again and crashed into the boards with a thud that echoed around the rink.
Violet winced. “He’s going to need a chiropractor after this.”
“Or a priest,” Levi added. “He might actually die this time. Do you know one who can administer last rites quickly?”
A whistle blew, and one of the coaches leaned over the bench, flipping through paperwork on a clipboard. “Number Thirty-Four! You’re not on my list.”
X stood, finally, and shouted back cheerfully. “I know! I’m a late addition! I emailed the manager’s intern’s second cousin’s roommate!”
The assistant coach squinted at him. “This isn’t an open tryout. You can’t just be here if you weren’t invited.”
X skated up to him, managing not to fall this time. “But the ice is my soul. The puck my chaotic joy. I skate toward greatness.”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “Was that a haiku? I think it’s time to go before they call security.”
Levi was already on his feet, clearly in agreement. We hurried down the steps to stop behind the bench where the coaches sat.
I tapped the guy on the shoulder. “We’re sorry about him. He’s been hit in the head with a puck a few too many times. We’ll just go.”
But X gave the guy his most charming smile. “I really want to be on the team. I could be an assistant coach.”
The assistant coach raised an eyebrow. “We already have one of those.”
“The waterboy then!”
The coach cleared his throat. He was an older guy, with thinning white hair and a pot belly stuffed beneath a thick warm jacket with Saint View Vipers Hockey printed on the back, a deadly black snake wrapped around a hockey stick as the logo. “Son, this is the CHL. We aren’t the pros; we don’t have a waterboy.”
X’s face fell. “Oh. Okay. I understand. Thanks anyway.”
He looked so defeated it stirred up something inside me. He tried so fucking hard, all the damn time. Seeing him get knocked back was like watching someone kick a puppy. An overgrown, yappy, completely insane puppy, but a puppy nonetheless.
“What about a mascot?” I asked the coach. “Do you have one of those?”
The coach sighed. “Again, this is coastal league. There’s no budget for any of that.”
“He’ll do it for free,” Levi butted in.
The coach raised an eyebrow and turned back to X. “Son—”
