Sophomore Surge

by K R Collins

  “I second surprise pizza,” Nelson says. He’s been wearing the other A since X went down. The two of them look to Matty.

  “Mandatory pizza,” he says and the locker room erupts into cheers.

  They take over the whole back of the place. Garfield’s the unlucky sucker who has to write out all the ingredients while everyone else jostles for position in line.

  “Eggplant parm?” Spitz could be asking what it is or if it’s good here.

  Either way, “Pizza,” Sophie reminds him. It’s the entire reason they’re here.

  His gaze flicks over to where Garfield’s diligently working. “I think you’re about to ruin pizza for me.”

  Merlin joins them by draping his arms over Sophie’s shoulders and dropping all his weight on her. Her knees buckle but hold steady. She elbows him, lightly, in the gut.

  “Where the fuck is our captain?” he asks.

  Sophie looks around. Zinger is trying to con Big Red into something not on their diet plans if his giant grin is anything to go by, J-Rod is wrestling Kevlar for a place in line, and Kuzy and Peets are talking quietly in Russian, probably despairing of their North American teammates. She doesn’t see Matty anywhere.

  “Penalty for ditching is a whole slice,” Witzer decrees. “We’ll bring it to him when we’re done.”

  Kuzy winces as he looks up from his conversation. “Cold surprise pizza?”

  He looks even more pained after they reveal their pizza for the day: bacon, ricotta cheese, jalapeños, and green peppers. The girl behind the counter is horrified as she punches the order in, her polite customer service smile slipping after the third ingredient.

  Kevlar leans on the counter and offers her a smile. “Don’t worry, we won’t make you try it.”

  “Good,” she says. “I mean, no offense.”

  Spitz puts in his eggplant parm order as the head cook comes out from the back. His shirt is splattered with pizza sauce and there’s a bit of mozzarella cheese sticking to his shoulder. He has a slip of paper in his hand, but his confusion melts away when he spots them. “You guys.”

  “Gary!” Theo exclaims. “You know you miss us when we’re away too long.”

  “You and your gross-ass pizzas.” He laughs and claps the counter girl on the back. “Mia, this is our city’s illustrious hockey team. If any of them try to give you their number, rip it up. They’re all scoundrels, excepting Miss Fournier, of course.”

  “Sophie’s fine,” she tells Gary, the same as she does every time they come here.

  “And she’s no angel,” Theo adds. “Didn’t you see her break Sinclair’s nose?”

  “I’m sure he deserved it.” Gary follows it up with a wink, and Sophie ducks her head to hide her smile. Then he taps Mia’s arm. “Send Miss Fournier’s order back first.”

  “It’s Sophie!” she reminds him but he waves and heads back to the kitchen.

  Merlin groans and pokes Sophie’s side. “How do I get special treatment? I’m starving.”

  “Wah wah,” Sophie says.

  They’ve divvied up their surprise pizza and made the rookies take the biggest pieces when Matty shows up with X. Theo stands up and waves as if it’s possible to miss the cluster of rowdy hockey players taking up four tables.

  “Look who finally showed up,” Merlin says but his giant grin takes any possible sting out of the words. “Don’t worry, you didn’t miss surprise pizza.”

  “Whatever it is, it doesn’t mix with my medication,” X says. Theo and Kevlar shove deeper into their booth to make room for X next to them. Lindy scoffs and hands him a bite of surprise pizza. There’s a little bit of everything on it, and X makes a face but he dutifully eats it.

  All four tables erupt into cheers.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Merlin says, nudging Spitz. “Big Red already ate his.”

  “You want seconds?” Spitz asks.

  Clifford shakes his head.

  “It’s not so bad,” Sophie tells their baby defenseman. She’s already eaten her piece and it was gross but, “There are worse bonding activities. We could be breaking into the trainers’ Icy Hot stash right now.”

  “Are you ever going to let this go?” Teddy asks.

  Sophie grins and takes a bite of her real pizza.

  X picks up his phone and checks something before he says, “The countdown is on. In twenty minutes, we find out which unlucky sucker’s been roped into the dog and pony show this year.”

  “Dogs?” Peets asks. A frown wrinkles his forehead. Kuzy says something in Russian and Peets nod.

  Every year, the NAHL selects players from every team in the League to participate in the All-Star Weekend, three days of skills competitions and good press ending in a game pitting best against best. In theory, at least. No one takes the weekend too seriously, refusing to risk an injury in a game with no meaning.

  Most guys treat the weekend like a death sentence. They’d rather spend time with their family or go someplace warm with their buddies. Sophie went last year and loved it. It felt like validation, being chosen as one of the top players in the league. Plenty of people called it a PR stunt, recycling an old accusation as if this time it would get under her skin. And maybe the League did choose her to drive up ratings, but she showed up and she put her skillset on display, winning two individual competitions. She was also part of the winning team, and she was able to center Mikhail Figuli and Dima, something only possible there.

  Around her, the guys laugh about what injury they’ll fake to get out of it and the plans they have, but she quietly hopes she’s selected again. She’ll take every stage and every opportunity to prove she’s an elite player.

  “All-Star Weekend was my first introduction to hockey,” J-Rod tells Zinger, quietly so they don’t draw any attention away from the debate over whether beaches or skiing is a better use of the All-Star break. Sophie’s pretty sure the skiing camp is only doing it to fuck with Matty, and she’s positive once Merlin loudly speculates about snowboarding.

  “I was visiting my cousins in Detroit. They didn’t have tickets or anything, and I didn’t even know what the sport was, but there was all the stuff going on outside the rink, you know? There were goalie simulations and the slapshot competitions and there were like five mini-rinks set up. We went the first day and waited forever in line, and I thought it was such bullshit until someone put a crappy hockey stick in my hands and told me to see how hard I could hit the puck.”

  “Then you were a stud?” Zinger asks.

  J-Rod laughs. “Completely whiffed. Swung as hard as I could and landed on my ass. A couple of the kids behind me in line laughed but the guy running it showed me how to hold the stick and then how to make sure I hit the puck. I didn’t hit it very hard even after the lesson. But it turned out Remi Corcoran taught me how to shoot a puck.”

  “No fucking way.” Zinger looks impressed.

  “And I didn’t even have a clue.” J-Rod laughs again. “But he took a picture with me and signed my shirt, and I went back to the desert convinced I was going to be a hockey player when I grew up. My mom called to yell at my aunt, but she signed me up for lessons. I keep hoping they’ll let Phoenix or Santa Fe host the All-Star Game so more kids like me can see how awesome hockey is.”

  “Maybe next year.”

  “I think Edmonton and Winnipeg are making bids to host it.”

  “Then the year after. It’ll give you some time to shore up your game so you get invited.”

  “You’re so full of shit.” J-Rod throws an ice cube at him. Zinger catches it and drops it in his nest of used napkins.

  “Maybe we’ll play a preseason game in Taiwan or something, and I can invite my family to come watch.”

  J-Rod holds his glass of water in a mockery of a toast. Zinger clinks their glasses together and Sophie goes back to her pizza before they catch her eavesdropping.

  X insists everyone turn their phones face-down on the table and give him a drumroll before he opens the 2013 NAHL All-Star selections. “
Mikhail Figuli from Milwaukee, no surprise there. Justin Rust from Minneapolis, yawn. Farage from Cleveland but not Hayes, no hometown pity pick this year. Ooh, Ivanov’s going, your Boston beau.” He winks at Sophie. “Dubs too. Good guy, good d-man.”

  Matty snatches X’s phone away from him. “Last time we played Boston, you cursed him and every ancestor he has.”

  “Give me back my phone!”

  Matty bats X’s hands away. “You’re taking too long, and I want to know if I have to reschedule my vacation plans.” He scrolls through the list. “Sofe, I hope you didn’t book any flights.”

  “My weekend’s open.”

  Matty flashes her a smile and turns to Garfield. “I hope yours is too.”

  All the color drains from Garfield’s face. “Are you joking? I’m taking Josie to the Bahamas. I’m proposing. If the NAHL fucks this up I swear—”

  Matty bursts into laughter and Garfield growls before he throws his greasy napkins at him.

  “You’re proposing?” Kuzy asks. “Congratulations.”

  “About damn time,” Nelson mutters.

  “Shut up.” Garfield’s cheeks are flushed pink. “And don’t say anything. I want her to be surprised.”

  “Of course.” Nelson claps Garfield on the back and then looks around the table, his glare a promise there will be hell to pay for anyone who leaks Garfield’s plans.

  The moment’s broken when All Star by Smash Mouth blares loudly over the speakers. Gary emerges from the kitchen to wave his dishrag like a victory towel, and Sophie can’t help but laugh and give him a thumbs-up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THERE’S STILL SOME hockey to be played before it’s time for the All-Star Weekend so Sophie puts her excitement aside and focuses. They fly to Atlanta where Sophie scores a beauty of a goal which ends up as the game winner. The Atlanta crowd boos her off the ice.

  “They’re not going to forget or forgive you,” Merlin says as they troop down to the locker room.

  Sophie grins, flushed with the win. “Maybe I’ll pull the same move in the shootout competition.”

  “I fucking dare you.”

  “Like hell am I doing the shootout competition.” It’s one of the more popular events at the All-Star Weekend, because it’s showy. There will be plenty of people wanting to do it, and Sophie would rather do something more in line with her skills. Speed work, stick work, showing off her edges; she’ll excel in those competitions.

  “For me?” Merlin bats his eyelashes and she laughs and shoves him into the locker room.

  “Put your face away. No one wants to see it.”

  “Ooooh,” Kevlar choruses.

  “Roasted,” Theo adds.

  Sophie rolls her eyes, but she smiles as she strips out of her gear.

  After Atlanta they fly home and lose to Montreal before beating Orlando. Their last game before the Christmas break is up in Quebec. They fly out tonight and play tomorrow, an afternoon game so everyone can start their celebrations early.

  When she comes home from practice, she has another package slip. Her parents are bringing their presents when they fly down so she doesn’t know who sent her something, but she goes downstairs to find out.

  It’s another flat, cardboard box.

  And, when she opens it, it’s a landscape with melting clocks everywhere, and she recognizes the painting even if she doesn’t remember what it’s called. She carries it into Elsa’s room and then calls the woman herself.

  “You got my present?” Elsa asks when she picks up.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a Dali. I like the melting clocks, they help me fall asleep.”

  There’s an empty space on the wall across from Elsa’s bed, the perfect place to hang the painting. Her parents are coming down for Christmas so she could ask her dad to help her hang it up but—no. She won’t get carried away again.

  The last time Elsa sent Sophie a painting, she told Sophie it was a promise. She can’t go through this again. She’s worked hard to put her team back on track after a disastrous start to November and a key injury to their lineup. She’s fought to keep her emotions calmer after her blowup against Sinclair, and this won’t help.

  She leans the painting against the wall and shuts the door to Elsa’s room on her way out. “You need to stop.”

  “Stop?” Elsa’s voice wavers, unsure.

  “Sweden’s far away and it isn’t getting closer. I understand why you stayed in Gothenburg. And I can’t—I won’t—ask you to give up your family and your team. Don’t ask me to get my hopes up again.”

  Elsa’s silent for so long Sophie checks to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. Guilt curdles in her stomach. She didn’t mean to upset her, but Sophie needs to set boundaries. She was so excited when Elsa was drafted. Elsa choosing to stay in Sweden didn’t occur to Sophie while she was picking out furniture and bedspreads and planning what it would be like to have a roommate and dreaming of the goals they’d score together.

  “Next year,” Elsa finally says. “No matter what Mamma says. I want to play with you.”

  “Sure,” Sophie says but she doesn’t let herself believe.

  Elsa isn’t in the NAHL right now, she isn’t even in North America, but she wasn’t the only woman drafted last year. Gabrielle Gagnon was drafted too and while she isn’t in the NAHL either, she is playing for the Trois-Rivières Bobcats. Sophie looks up their schedule, and they play an evening game, the same day Concord plays their afternoon game in Quebec.

  She glances at Elsa’s closed door and makes her plans. She cleans her apartment, makes a trip to the grocery store to stock up in case her family makes it here before she does, and heads to the airport to meet up with her teammates.

  “Do you think Coach Butler will let me arrange my own flight home?” Sophie asks Teddy.

  “A bunch of us already have. I thought your parents were flying to you, though?”

  “Gabrielle’s starting tomorrow for Trois-Rivières. If I left after our game, I could make it to hers in time for puck drop.”

  “Road trip? I’m in.”

  “Aren’t you going to see your family?”

  “Yeah but I’m driving and it isn’t far. Besides, I’ve heard you speak French. You won’t make it out of the rental agency without help, and I’ve volunteered myself. Besides, I need to scout my competition for your favorite goaltender.”

  “She’ll probably be my goalie at the next Winter Games, but you’re mine forever.”

  In two years, the top athletes in the world will compete in Helsinki. Sophie played in her first Games in Stuttgart, and she expects to be invited back for Finland. She expects Gabrielle to be there too. She put up an unreal performance at the U-Tourneys last year, and even if Quebec’s front office can’t see it, Sophie knows she’s the future of Canadian goaltending. She tracks the puck better than any goalie Sophie’s seen before.

  At the draft, management told Sophie if Gabrielle was still available, they’d draft her. Quebec snapped her up instead which means Sophie will only have a chance to play with her when they’re representing their country.

  When they board the plane, Teddy taps Matty’s shoulder. “Sophie’s not coming back on the team plane.” They move on before Matty’s even looked up from his crossword.

  “Don’t I have to tell Coach Butler?”

  “Matty’s not as grumpy as Butler. Did you hear him barking at practice yesterday? Someone’s not in the holiday spirit.”

  Teddy slides into the window seat in their row and Sophie drops down next to him. “Maybe he’s in the spirit of the Grinch.”

  “I would fucking believe it after those sprints he made us skate the other day. His heart is definitely three sizes too small.” Teddy pulls his iPad and his headphones out of his bag before tucking the bag under the seat in front of him.

  “The upcoming breaks mess with the schedule.” The end of December and start of January is all start-stop with the time off for various holidays and the All-Star weekend. Th
ey struggled to find consistency through this stretch last season, and Coach Butler’s only trying to keep the same thing from happening this year.

  Teddy holds his headphone splitter out to Sophie. “We’re watching The Grinch.”

  “Jim Carrey freaks me out,” she says even as she digs her own headphones out.

  Teddy pats her shoulder but still cues up the movie.

  It takes overtime for them to beat Quebec, and Coach Butler stands in front of them in the locker room, seething. Sophie tucks herself deeper into her stall. Whenever he’s too angry to yell right away it means he’s really pissed.

  “Get your shit together over the break,” he finally says. “Be ready to play on the 27th. If this is the effort you bring, it’ll be the last game you play until the new year.”

  She’s never had a coach make use of scratches the way Coach Butler does. She should ask Dima if Boston does it the same way. Sophie was briefly scratched last season, and the fear she’d blown her chance to play in the NAHL was enough to make her clean up her game.

  But they weren’t bad tonight. It certainly wasn’t their best game, but there weren’t any egregious turnovers. Lindy didn’t let in any soft goals, and there wasn’t a lack of effort. Coach Butler has yelled at them plenty tonight, but he hasn’t told them what they did wrong. How are they supposed to solve a problem if they don’t know what the problem is?

  Coach Butler stares Matty down, placing the responsibility of the team on their captain’s shoulders, before he walks out.

  Fuck.

  Sophie pulls her jersey over her head and drops it in her stall. The bubbling excitement over the win and everyone’s plans for the holiday has evaporated with Coach’s scolding. She’s not sure she’s seen a locker room so sullen after a win.

  Media is short, because they have holiday plans too, and after Sophie’s done, she tucks her wet hair under her toque and meets up with Teddy.

  “Told you it was safer to go through Matty,” he mutters.

  Yeah, she’s glad she doesn’t have to talk to Coach again until after their break.