Sophomore Surge

by K R Collins

  Sophie raises her gaze to the ceiling.

  Kuzy crashes into her, shouting and hugging her. He opens the celebration to Spitz and then Matty and Garfield. She can’t do more than smile and nod and try to breathe as the rest of them celebrate.

  She looks past her teammates to the bench where Coach Butler is standing, arms crossed, his permanent half-frown on his face. See? We need Matty. He plays big in big moments. Don’t trade our captain.

  “You took the final faceoff of the game. You don’t usually take the faceoff when you and Matty are on the ice together.”

  Ed Rickers brings up the point Sophie’s been waiting for all scrum. She tamps down her smile so she doesn’t look too eager to answer the question. “Shooting isn’t one of my strengths, something you’ve all written at length about for the past two years, but Matty scores clutch goals when we need him to, and we needed one tonight. I took the faceoff, freeing him to be the shooter. It was a good play from our captain.”

  She pours praise on her captain in each of the follow-up questions, knowing at least some of what she says will make it into the articles printed tonight and tomorrow morning. She wants everyone in her organization and her city to know how important Matty is to them.

  “We don’t win this one without him,” she tells Marty Owen.

  Across the room, Matty frowns faintly at her.

  They gained an important two points, showcased the skill of their captain, and, as a bonus, won a game with Sophie’s brother in the stadium. Now, they’re both in Sophie’s apartment, Colby sitting on her bed as she shifts through her closet for something to wear out with the team.

  “We’re in fifth now,” she tells him as she holds up a black V-neck T-shirt. “This?”

  “This is how you celebrate a big win?”

  “Too dark? I have a gray one.”

  Colby laughs but trails off when she doesn’t laugh along with him. He shakes his head. “Wear whatever you want. Hey, do you think Ivanov will sign my trading card after the Boston game?”

  “Of course. He wants to get drinks too. Well, I say drinks but neither of us are legal in the US. He wants to meet you for some reason.”

  “I’m a treasure. And I’m US legal.”

  “I don’t drink in public.” She pulls her black V-neck on and tugs the fabric up so it doesn’t show her sports bra. She exchanges her sweatpants for a worn pair of jeans and declares herself ready.

  The next day, she leaves her brother with Teddy, Theo, and Kevlar so she can drive out to Durham one last time. Ritchie is waiting for her, and he takes his usual place outside the locker room, standing guard as she changes into her practice gear.

  “Are you still on for the Philly game?” she asks as she troops out, pads and skates in place, mouth guard hooked through her sports bra. “O’Reilly’s an instigator so you’ll have a chance to see all our lessons pay off.”

  “Drew O’Reilly?” Ritchie opens the bench door for her and ushers her onto the ice. “He’s on my fantasy team. You’re not going to fight him, are you?”

  “I don’t fight people.”

  “You break their noses.”

  Ritchie grins, proud of his joke, and Sophie rolls her eyes. She skates backward, waiting for Ritchie to hop on the ice and join her. “I’m working with you so I won’t break anyone’s nose. Colby will be in town for the game too. I figured you’d want to catch up.”

  “Hell fucking yeah! How’s Colbs doing?”

  “You can catch up at the game. We have work to do.”

  “Bossy,” Ritchie says but there’s no heat in his words. Unlike a few minutes later when he shoves her up against the boards.

  It’s their hardest session yet, but at the end of it, she feels ready.

  Before they can play Philly they face Boston, and they rout their rivals in a 6-2 win. There were five power plays for her team during the game, and she played with Matty on every single one of them. All three of her assists came on power play goals by her captain, and she beams during her postgame scrum.

  “He’s a leader in the room,” Sophie says with a glance to the other side of the locker room. “There’s a confidence when you step onto the ice with him. It’s hard to explain, but you saw it tonight.”

  “It’s easy to be confident when you have an extra player on the ice,” Marty Owen says.

  She doesn’t let him get her down tonight. Matty had the OT winner last game, a hat trick this game. One game at a time they’re proving they need their captain. They’re doing exactly what Coach Butler told them to do; they’re winning.

  Once the media’s cleared out, Merlin drapes his arms over Sophie’s shoulders. “Where are we celebrating tonight?”

  “Matty’s the man of the hour. Hat trick, remember?”

  “Yeah but you did all the work.”

  Sophie elbows him, making him yelp and back off.

  “You did,” Matty agrees from his stall. He’s smiling, relaxed for the first time in far too long. “The net was wide fucking open on my second goal.”

  Sophie smiles again, so wide it hurts her cheeks. “Well, you’re still picking the bar. I’m going out with Colby and Dima.”

  She expects a hard time about not celebrating with the team and, if they push hard enough, she’ll meet up with Dima another time, but Merlin nods and says, “It’s about time. Make sure to remind him we scored six goals on his team tonight.”

  It’s about time?

  “Tell us what Colby thinks of him,” Theo adds.

  This conversation has officially gotten weird. She looks to Matty for help, but he’s failing at hiding a smile. “I can already tell you. He’s in awe of Dima’s shot and a little part of him wants to gear up against him and the rest of him is glad his goaltending days are over.”

  “Not exactly what I meant.” Now Theo’s smiling too, but he doesn’t push it.

  Sophie shrugs and rushes through her shower so she can grab Colby and change. He sits on her bed again as she picks through her closet, but she doesn’t take long to decide. She goes with the gray V-neck tonight.

  “Good choice,” Colby tells her. “It brings out your eyes. And your pit stains.”

  She flips him off. “Dima’s always more of a fashion disaster than I am.” She pulls her hair up into a simple ponytail. “The guys want to know what you think of him.”

  Colby grins. “Do they?”

  “They were being weird about it but they’re weird about a lot of things.”

  “Sofe…” Colby shakes his head, thinking better of what he was going to say. “Are you ready to go?”

  They meet Dima at one of the quieter bars in Concord, because Sophie doesn’t want to run into her team. He’s wearing jeans with holes in the knees and a black T-shirt covered in zippers. He meets him outside the bar and gives Sophie a hug when he sees her. He also hugs Colby, lifting Sophie’s brother right off his feet.

  “He has a trading card he wants you sign,” Sophie says.

  “Sofe,” Colby groans.

  “What? You do.”

  Dima laughs and ushers them inside. Sophie leaves them to figure out drinks while she hunts down a table. The place is mostly full, men and women in business casual as if they came here right after work. Or, also possible, as if they dress up before going out. The bar counter is crowded, but there’s a section of empty tables, away from the dance floor and the pool tables.

  Sophie slides into the booth, claiming the table. Colby and Dima join her a few minutes later. Colby sets the pitcher of beer down and drops his coat on the empty side of the table. “I’ll be back.”

  “How come he gets a whole side to himself?” she asks even as she lets Dima push her deeper into the booth. She puts up a fight as soon as she realizes he’s trying to squish her against the wall. “You don’t need this much space.”

  “We’re friends,” Dima coos. He snakes an arm around her shoulders and pulls her tight against his side. “Friends are close.”

  “This might be too close.”

/>   Dima laughs and, when she doesn’t elbow him away, he drops his arm to her waist and stays pressed up against her. She lets herself lean into his side. With Colby here, she’s been hugged more than she has the whole rest of her season combined. It’s made her spoiled, and this isn’t something she can get from her team.

  They treat her as a teammate when she’s in her pads, slapping her helmet, her shoulders, her ass, giving her fist bumps, but as soon as the hockey gear is gone it’s as if a switch is flicked in their heads; she goes from hockey player to girl and they’re afraid to touch her. It’s better than the alternative but it means she’s barely ever hugged.

  Dima’s sipping his beer when Colby returns to the table with a platter of nachos, piled high with shredded chicken, cheese, black olives, and salsa. Sophie shakes her head even as Colby sets them down in the middle of the table. “These aren’t on my diet plan.”

  “Not all for you,” Dima says. “We share.” He slants a look at Colby, nothing but trouble in his expression. “Always so bad at share?”

  “I’m not bad at sharing!” Sophie knocks her shoulder into Dima’s, but he doesn’t even budge. “Did you see how many assists I had tonight?” She winces as soon as she says it. “Sorry. No game talk.”

  Dima rolls his eyes and tugs on her ponytail. “Is one loss. Not end of the world.”

  Colby looks between them, amused. “You did have a lot of assists tonight. You played possessed.” He pauses, thinking, which is never a good thing. “You played hard against Atlanta too.”

  “It’s the push to the playoffs, everyone’s stepping their game up.” She shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. She finds a chip with the least amount of cheese and dips it in the salsa. “Besides, Coach lit into us after the break. If we don’t pick it up, we’re losing Matty at the trade deadline.”

  Colby stops piling olives on his chip. “What?”

  “Serious?” Dima asks.

  “He doesn’t have full power over trades, but he can make recommendations to Mister Wilcox, and I won’t risk it. Matty’s our captain. We aren’t losing him.”

  “Sofe,” Colby begins and he sounds like Teddy, angry but completely on her side.

  She doesn’t need either of them handling her with kid gloves. “It motivated us, didn’t it? Coach Butler knows what he’s doing.”

  Colby and Dima exchange a look before her brother says, “Guess he does.”

  When Sophie hits the ice for warm-ups, there’s a loud cheer from the far side of the ice. She looks down to see the UNH men’s hockey team lined up against the glass. They wave and, once they’re satisfied she’s noticed them, they turn their full attention to heckling every Philly player who skates by them.

  “Wow,” Merlin says. “Usually we’re on the receiving end.”

  “Friends of Colby. Now concentrate, we have a game to win.”

  O’Reilly shoves Sophie into the boards on her first shift of the night. In theory, they’re battling for the puck, but he elbows her and tips her helmet forward and slashes at her ankles, trying to rile her up. “Get used to this. I’m going to be on you all night.”

  The puck’s knocked free and Sophie checks to make sure the officials are focused on the breakout before she sweeps her foot out and dumps him on his ass. She smiles sweetly down at him. “I don’t think you can handle me.”

  She skates to the bench for a change and sits between Merlin and Garfield.

  “What was that?” Garfield asks.

  “Nothing you need to worry about. I have it under control.”

  Garfield glances at her, no doubt full of questions, but he shrugs and lets it go.

  Two shifts later, after the play’s blown dead, O’Reilly snow-showers her. He smirks as she wipes shaved ice from her visor. “If you ask me nicely, I’ll give you a real facial later.”

  She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. “Not interested.” She skates to the bench, herding Merlin so he doesn’t do something stupid like start a fight.

  Teddy opens the bench door for her and Matty tosses her a towel. “If you want backup let me know.”

  “He’s annoying but he won’t draw a penalty.”

  It’s part promise, part threat, and even though she doesn’t stare her bench down, she trusts they’ve received the message.

  She channels her irritation with O’Reilly into good, hard hockey. She checks players when she needs to and then she takes the puck and skates down the ice, dancing away from stick checks and clumsy attempts to cut off her path to the net. She peppers the goal with shots, and she’s rewarded when Witzer scoops up one of her rebounds and slams it home.

  The next time she’s on the ice, it’s Theo who scores, a bomb from the point no one reacts to until it’s in the net. Sophie knocks shoulders with O’Reilly as she skates to her d-man, arms raised in celebration.

  O’Reilly comes at her even harder after Theo’s goal. He checks her and shoves her as much as he can get away with when the officials are looking and even more once they aren’t. He cross-checks her and it sends her helmet skittering across the ice. She spins to him, fury in her gaze, a heartbeat away from slamming her stick into his smug fucking face. He smirks, showing off two missing teeth, because he has the kind of face which invites people to hit it.

  Focus, we have a game to win. They’re on a two-game winning streak, and she won’t jeopardize their momentum with a selfish penalty. She takes a deep breath, ready to skate away. Theo flies in to shove O’Reilly away from her. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  O’Reilly pretends to be confused. “I’m doing her a favor. I heard she likes it rough.” He spins his mouth guard around, and Sophie steps between him and her d-man before Theo throws the kind of punch which’ll get him ejected.

  Theo’s tall enough to glare at O’Reilly over her so she plants her hands on Theo’s shoulders and skates him to the bench. “Play smart.”

  “Did you hear what he said?”

  “I was standing right there, and if I’m not allowed to hit him, you aren’t either.”

  They’re at the bench now, but Theo’s still looking past her, still locked in his fight with O’Reilly. Irritation prickles under her skin. She grabs a fistful of his jersey and yanks until he looks down at her, surprised. “Do you respect me?”

  Behind them, the bench falls completely silent.

  “What the fuck?” Theo demands. “Yes.”

  “Then listen to me. He isn’t worth your time. Don’t fight him, don’t leave your position to lay a hit on him. We are winning this game.” She looks down the bench at everyone who’s pretending they aren’t paying attention. “Same goes for all of you. The only reason he’s on his team is to instigate. It sure as hell isn’t for his hockey skill.” There are a few laughs. “Don’t play his game. Play ours.”

  She looks at Theo one last time. He doesn’t look happy about it, but he nods. Sophie takes her place on the bench and takes another deep breath. Now she really has to keep her cool for the rest of the game.

  They win 4-2, and Sophie has two points on the night, but it isn’t enough. She wanted to thrash them, pile on goals until it was 8-2 or 10-2. She’s restless during her postgame responsibilities, and she doesn’t shower. She sends her brother out with his friends and goes to the weight room, tapes up her hands, and takes on the heavy weight bag.

  She adds another layer of sweat to her game-sweat, and her knuckles sting, but she doesn’t stop hitting. There’s still something twisted and ugly nestled deep inside her and she wants it out. She lands a hit hard enough to move the bag.

  “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

  She looks over her shoulder to see Matty standing inside the doors, back in his game day suit. The punching bag knocks gently into her stomach, a reminder she was here for a reason. “I have some energy.”

  “So I can see.” His smile shifts into something more serious. “You’ll need it for our next game. Don’t wear yourself out in here.”

  “I need to hit s
omething.”

  He looks pointedly at the sweat stains on her stomach and under her arms. “Looks like you did. It’s time to shower and change. Everyone’s coming to my place for video games. Shooting shit always makes me feel better.”

  Sophie unwraps her hands and winces when she notices her knuckles are red and even purple in some places.

  “You’re smarter than this.” Matty crosses the room until he can examine her hands, gently touching her new bruises. “Ice when you get home and we’ll ice again at my place. No more sneaking in here. We need you on the ice, not on IR.”

  “I’ll be fine tomorrow.” She pulls her hands out of his grasp and closes them into fists. Her skin is tender, but she isn’t hurt. “And this is better than being stuck in the box for a double minor.”

  “If someone gives you trouble, tell me.”

  “We need you on the ice too.” She hasn’t put in all this effort to highlight how important he is only to be the reason he’s put in time out for two minutes.

  “I know how to keep from getting caught.” He tugs on her ponytail. “Shower, I’m not leaving until I see you get in your car.”

  “Bossy,” she grumbles, no real heat behind it.

  “It’s why they gave me the C.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  X RETURNS TO the lineup, and he slots into the third d-pairing the way he predicted. Spitz is jumpy for a few games, making boneheaded passes and forgetting his coverage until Sophie finally pulls him aside. She tells him one of two things will happen; X will play his top pairing position again or the coaching staff will protect his knee by giving him fewer minutes on the third.

  Spitz calms down after their talk. He still makes mistakes, same as any of them, and he still glances at the bench each time as if he’s wondering if this is the play Coach will yank him for. There isn’t anything else Sophie can do to assure him. Coach is still talking about big moves at the deadline and no one feels safe.

  At this point, Sophie almost wishes the deadline was here so they’d know.