Page 17 of In The Game

The cashier tells me,“Good luck”when she hands me my receipt. I don’t know if she’s giving me luck for a positive or negative test, but either way, I want to punch her in the face. I’m already freaking out.

When I flip the test over, I almost vomit. The shock rolling through me has amplified all other nausea symptoms.

* * *

Positive.

Four tests.

Four positives.

I lay them out on the bathroom counter in a neat little row and swallow. What do I do now?

Running back in front of the toilet, I push the seat up in time to throw up the Diet Sprite and crackers. It burns like hell. No more carbonated beverages. Not sure if I’m barfing because of the news or the pregnancy itself—apparently the termmorning sicknessmeans any time of day, which is very misleading. Why don’t they call it pregnancy sickness?

When I’ve emptied my stomach, I drop from my shaky knees and lean against the wall before grabbing a wad of toilet paper and wiping my mouth. I sit on the cold tile floor; it’s freezing but seems to make the nausea lessen. I stare at the wall ahead of me. I’m pregnant. There’s ababyinside me.God, what have I done?Then the tears fall.

SIX

Took me a few weeks of research, but I’ve finally nailed down what I want my player initiative to be. Growing up, I knew a couple kids better at hockey than I was. They loved playing as much as I did, but they had to drop out when their parents could no longer afford to keep them in the sport. To this day I wonder if they would be skating alongside me if money wasn’t an issue. Raleigh was actually the one who made it click for me. She reminded me how important hockey scholarships are in every level of playing.

There’s such a disparity in youth hockey with the haves and the have-nots. I want to create a camp that gives scholarships and discounted ice time and equipment for kids who love the game but whose parents can’t manage the piling fees. By the time I was getting scouted, my family was paying almost ten thousand a year between equipment, traveling costs, ice time, and private lessons and trainers. That’s absurd. A decent pair of skates alone are about a grand, and some of these kids are outgrowing them before their parents can get them paid off.

I explained it to some of the guys in the locker room.

“I love the idea, man,” Lonan says. “If it weren’t for growing up with the Hayeses, I wouldn’t be here. My mom would never have been able to afford the cost of hockey.”

“Exactly! How many other kids out there have potential to make it to the top, but they quit too young because of economic imbalances? There needs to be more equity in youth athletics. And don’t even get me started on the lower-income neighborhoods that have to put up with shitty facilities because there’s no school funding. It’s fucked up.”

Sully nods. “You need any help getting set up? I’ll invest in it.”

“Yeah, Coach Bombay, I’ll donate,” Banks adds.

I laugh. “Bombay was sentenced to mandatory community service—I’m volunteering, dumbass.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just let me know what you need.” Everybody knows Camden “Banks” Teller comes from money, but what they don’t know is that he gives a lot of it away too.

“Lakes’ll get involved,” Lonan adds, taping up his stick. “Auction off some jerseys at one of their little soirees or whatever.”

He tosses me the roll of tape and a puck so I can do mine.

“I need to bring it to the charity office and have them sign off on everything.”

This feels good. I love the coaching clinics we put on with youth hockey, and every time it’s my turn to coach, I have a blast. It’s fun to get on the ice with the new recruits and see them improve. Some of those older kids are witty as hell and have me doubled over in laughter for half the skate. It wasn’t something I thought I’d enjoy, but it fulfills something I’ve been missing. This is the perfect player initiative for me. I’m passionate about it and it makes sense.

Wrapping the tape around the end of my stick, I bite it off and use the puck to rub it down.

“Before you talk to charity, Julia wants to see you.”

I roll my eyes. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“We should get human resources in there with you, not onherbehalf, foryours.”

“Dude, I’m sayin’…” I lean my stick against my locker, wander down to her office, and knock on the door.

“B!” Her high-pitched screech pierces my eardrum.

“Hey, Julia.” I made sure to use her full name.

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