Page 142 of Game Misconduct
If the Vipers were a kindergarten classroom, I’d be the substitute with a concussion and no lesson plan.
Riley’s halfway out of his pads, giving Cal shit about some rookie mistake he didn’t actually make. Cal takes it like a champ, even fires back with a dry one-liner that gets a laugh. Kid’s learning—on the ice and off.
Eli and Logan are off to the side, heads close, talkinglow. Game strategy or family stuff, hard to say with those two. Eli’s got that look again, the one he wears when he’s thinking too hard. Logan’s the only one who can pull him out of it.
Beau’s gone with one of the coaches to look at some film before tonight’s game. Something about needing his eagle eye for the opposing team’s plays.
And Jace?
Jace leans on his stick near the boards, watching the chaos like a war-weary general. No helmet, just that permanent calm he wears like armor.
He doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t have to. One look from him and half the guys pipe down without knowing why.
I nod at him as I pass. He nods back. Nothing said.
Just one of those days where the ice doesn’t feel like work.
Riley flings his helmet into the net and yells, “Who’s got two assists, one flawless faceoff, and a Tinder date lined up for tonight after the game?”
“Yo mama?” Finn fires back.
“She's a lovely woman,” Riley deadpans. “You should be so lucky.”
Finn flips him off and then immediately takes a puck to the skate from Cal, who winces and speeds over, hands up in surrender.
“Shit, sorry, man! I was aiming for the boards, I swear?—”
Finn glares. “You calling me a board now?”
Cal’s face flushes. “No! I just, uh. Momentum.”
He glances over at me like I might offer a lifeline. I don’t.
But I don’t let him flounder either.
“Next time, aim with your stick. Not your hopes and dreams.”
Cal grins sheepishly, cheeks still pink. “Yes, sir.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t call me sir. Makes me feel like I should be collecting retirement benefits.”
I stretch one last time, pop my neck, and skate toward the bench to unclip my pads.
Cal skates up beside me, helmet pushed back, cheeks still red from the Finn mishap. He looks like he’s trying to summon courage.
“Hey,” he says, voice a little higher than usual. “Can I ask you something?”
I side-eye him while unclipping my chest pad. “You just did.”
He gives a tight laugh. “Right. Okay, well…real question.”
I nod once, waiting.
“How do you, uh—how do you stay so calm out there? Like, when guys start screwing around. Doesn’t it mess with your focus?”
I pull my glove off and flex my fingers, shoulder twinging.
“It used to,” I admit. “Now I just expect it. Anticipate the noise. Tune it out.”
