Sophomore Surge

by K R Collins

  And then it’s the final game before the deadline and they’re not ready. They’re sixth in the standings again, Atlanta and DC ahead of them. The team hasn’t made any moves yet, and Sophie clings to the small hope, with a win tonight, they can prove they shouldn’t.

  They’re in Philadelphia, and they allow a goal on the very first shift of the game. She doesn’t raise her eyes to the ceiling even though she wants to, because there’s no telling how many cameras are on her right now.

  Instead, she takes a deep breath then says, “No,” as calmly and measured as she can.

  “Not even you can will a goal into being called back,” Merlin says.

  “I can say no more. We’re winning this game.”

  “Sofe…” Merlin trails off as Banks grinds Matty into the boards. Ralden scoops up the loose puck and takes off. “We—”

  “No,” she repeats. “We’re winning this game for Lindy and Matty and X. We’re winning it for us. A win tonight puts us back in fifth place in the standings. There’s plenty of time for us to secure fourth. We’re going to the playoffs, and this is the team we’re doing it with.”

  “Hell, yeah,” Witzer agrees.

  Coach Vorgen puts his hands on Sophie’s shoulders. “Herman is weak glove side. Bring two forwards down the wing—”

  “Get him to bite on one, drop pass, score.” Sophie nods and then nudges Merlin’s knee. “You ready for this?”

  “We’re going to score and you’re going to told you so me.”

  “Should’ve believed in me from the beginning.”

  Sophie carries the puck down the wing, Merlin and O’Reilly hot on her skates. She knows Herman will bite on her the same way she knows O’Reilly would rather lay a hit than cover Merlin. She slows down enough to let O’Reilly catch up and then three things happen at once; Herman goes down for her shot, Sophie drops a pass back for Merlin, and O’Reilly slams into her from the side.

  It’s like being hit by a sack of bricks, and she goes down hard to the ice. But she sees the goal light flash, and she ignores the ache in her side as she scrambles back to her skates. Witzer reaches Merlin first, but she joins their celebration with a giant grin. “Fucking told you so.”

  Merlin tries to shake his head at her, but he’s beaming, too excited about the goal.

  One-one.

  Only one more to give them the lead and then they hold it.

  This game is theirs.

  X notches an assist on Peet’s goal to put them ahead 2-1.

  They get a handful of power plays, but they don’t manage to convert on any of them. Sophie’s so close, the puck partially crosses the goal line before Herman slaps his glove down over it. She skates away from the goal, frustrated and even more determined to score on her next opportunity.

  She’s sitting on forty-nine career goals. Her next one is a big one.

  Dima reached this milestone earlier in the season, and she’s sure it’ll be a talking point how she hit hers so late in the same season, but she’s never been a goal scorer the way Dima is.

  In the dwindling seconds of the game, she has the chance for her fiftieth. There’s an open net and no one standing in her way. But skating up the far side of the ice is Matty, and she slides the puck over to him.

  He passes it back to her. “Shoot.”

  “You shoot.” She sends the puck back across the ice to him.

  Two Falcons are gaining on them; they can’t play not-it with the puck forever. She can see Matty preparing to pass to her again so she adds a spark of speed to her stride and skates behind the net.

  With no other option, Matty taps the puck into the empty net. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even celebrate as he bumps her gently into the boards. “Why didn’t you shoot? It would’ve been fifty for you.”

  “So I score my fiftieth against Toronto.” She will get it which is what matters to her. The when doesn’t matter as much.

  The game ends with a win for Lindy, an assist for X, and a goal for Matty. If Coach Butler needed a sign their veteran core is important, he doesn’t need to look beyond this game. In case he missed it, she talks up her teammates in her postgame scrum.

  “We had a big game from the leaders in the room tonight. Lindy gave us timely saves to keep us in the game, X and Matty gave us the goals for the win. We’re fifth in the standings now and ready for the final push of the season.”

  Marty Owen smiles condescendingly as if he thinks her optimism is cute.

  “You and Matty played a nice game of hot potato there at the end,” Rickers says. “You could’ve scored your fiftieth goal.” He breaks the news to her gently as if she didn’t willingly pass on the milestone.

  “There’s always next game. Did you see X’s shot block that led to the breakout? I told him we just got him back and he smiled and said it’s why he’s on the ice, to keep the puck out of our net.”

  It’s a late flight from Philly, but no one sleeps on the plane. They all know come tomorrow, this won’t be their team anymore. Maybe when they wake up it’ll look the same, but by the end of the day they will have lost a couple of players and gained some others.

  Sophie doesn’t expect her team to stay exactly the same, but she trusts they’ll be buyers at this deadline. They aren’t after the big names—they aren’t competitive enough in the playoff race—but they’ve played well enough to deserve a show of support from the front office.

  She and Teddy forgo their usual seats to play cards in the back. The veterans play dominoes, and Merlin cheerfully gives them shit for being old.

  She wakes up half an hour early, nauseous as if something’s wrong. She dismisses it as deadline jitters. She checks her phone as she eats breakfast, relieved to see none of the early morning headlines are for her team.

  She heads to practice once she’s ready, because it’s better than sitting in her apartment worrying. When she reaches the rink, she has a missed call from Mr. Wilcox. Her stomach twists itself into knots, her earlier nausea returning. There’s never a good reason for a call from the GM on deadline day.

  She never considered she might be on the trading block. She spent her rookie season being told Concord was the only team desperate enough to want her. She figured it was still the same.

  It takes two tries to call Mr. Wilcox back. The phone rings and rings as she heads down the hall. Dread sinks in her stomach with each step she takes.

  She’s a step outside the locker room when he picks up the phone. “It isn’t you.”

  She appreciates the reassurance but still, a personal phone call from her GM? She opens the locker room doors. Matty’s sitting in his empty stall, still in his street clothes. There isn’t a practice jersey hanging behind him. “No.”

  Matty looks up, dark rings under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept. Mr. Wilcox says something she doesn’t hear.

  “No,” she repeats. She shoves her phone into her bag. She thinks she turned it off. It doesn’t matter. “You—Matty.”

  “You’re here early.”

  “Trouble sleeping. You—” She still can’t get the words out as if saying them will make them true.

  “Me.”

  She waits for him to deny what she’s thinking, but he returns to staring at the floor. Her mind flits from one thought to the next too quickly for her to say anything so they stand there in silence until X and Lindy burst into the room.

  X looks from Matty to Sophie and says, “Fuck,” low and defeated.

  “The news broke?” Matty asks. “I was hoping to tell the team.”

  “Ronnie called.” Lindy drops his bag where he’s standing. “I came over as soon as I was off the phone. Toronto?”

  “It’s a good fit. They’re hoping to make it back to the Finals and win this year. Do you know how long it’s been since I was in the playoffs?”

  But you’re ours, Sophie wants to say. We’re making the playoffs this season. Or…maybe they aren’t. If the front office traded their captain, they clearly don’t have high hopes for this season.
>
  Lindy sits down next to Matty, a sight she’s seen dozens of time; her captain and his goalie. But now—she turns away from them, tears stingingly hotly in her eyes. Didn’t they play well enough to keep their captain? Coach Butler promised and—

  She pulls her fist back, prepared to punch through her practice jersey, because the Condor on it is mocking her. X grabs her elbow and then her wrist, holding her back. “Don’t be stupid. You need your hands.”

  She looks over at Matty. For what? Didn’t you hear? Our season is already over. She drops her arms to her sides and turns to X. “How are we supposed to do it without him?”

  “We’ll find a way.”

  She wants to press for more, have him reassure her until she believes in her team again, but she sees the way he looks at Matty, as lost as she feels. She’s being selfish, demanding he comfort her when this must be harder for him than it is for her. He’s known Matty longer and, as the original member of this team, he’s seen everyone come and go.

  She takes a deep breath and pushes down the tangle of her emotions. “We will. I promised you the playoffs.”

  Like I promised to keep Matty? No, Coach Butler promised we’d keep our captain.

  Anger simmers under her skin. She tries to tamp it down, but every time someone comes into the locker room and sees Matty, it flares up again. Garfield and Nelson freeze as soon as they step through the door, because it’s obvious something’s wrong. The kids come in laughing but their laughter’s swallowed up by the stillness of the room.

  By the time their coach enters the room, Sophie can’t look at him, too afraid of what will show on her face. She stares at her skates as Coach gives his pre-practice speech as if everything’s normal. When he finishes, no one moves, waiting for Matty to lead them out.

  Finally, X stands up. “Time to hit the ice.”

  One by one they follow their defenseman out. A few people say goodbye to Matty or give him a fist bump. It’s hockey so it’s not a forever goodbye. They’ll see him tomorrow when they face Toronto, but she can’t think about it right now; facing off against her captain, seeing him in the wrong jersey.

  She’s—

  She’s the last one in the locker room.

  “It’ll suck for a bit,” Matty tells her. His voice sounds steadier now than it did when he told the locker room about the trade. “The first big trade is always the hardest, but it’ll get better. And they’re all looking to you now.”

  She shakes her head.

  “This is your team.”

  She’s in her skates, and Matty’s in his trainers so it means they’re eye to eye. She wants to look away from him, but she can’t. Instead, she curls her fingers into fists. Matty’s been traded so Concord has lost their captain, and he’s trying pass the torch to her?

  No.

  “You’re going to do great things, kid.”

  “I’m not a kid,” she snaps and storms out of the locker room, as quickly as she can manage in her skates.

  She’s the last one on the ice and Coach Butler barely spares her a glance. “You’re late. Three laps, and you can join your teammates.”

  “Coach,” Merlin begins.

  “You don’t have a captain right now. It means you have to show personal responsibility. Do you have a problem being held accountable, Fournier?”

  “No, Coach.” The urge to punch him returns. He promised they would keep Matty if they pulled themselves together and they did. They kept their side of the promise, and he didn’t keep his.

  She takes a deep breath and starts the first of her punishment laps.

  After practice, Sophie’s thrust in front of the media where reporter after reporter asks her how she feels about her captain being traded. Next to her, X patiently answers the same questions. On her other side is Nelson. He’s been given the third A since they don’t have a captain. Marty Owen flits between them, unsure which one to poke.

  Once she’s free, Napoli snags her for a last-minute tribute video so they’ll have something to show during tomorrow’s game. He hands her a makeup kit and fusses over her hair until she glares at him. “Are we doing this or what?”

  He holds his hands up and backs up to his camera. “Give me a smile.”

  She sits on her hands so she doesn’t flip him off.

  By the time she’s done, she’s frayed at the edges. She knows she should go home, curl up with a mug of hot chocolate, and call her mom. Instead, she heads upstairs to Coach Butler’s office. She enters without knocking and closes the door behind her so the entire hall won’t hear what she has to say.

  Coach Butler glances up at her as if to say what are you doing here before he returns to attention to his phone.

  All her anger flares up. She steps up to his desk and curls her hands into fists when he won’t look at her again. “You promised. You said if we improved, we would keep everyone, and you traded Matty anyway.”

  “I’m your coach not your GM. Trade decisions aren’t mine to make.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  Coach Butler plants his hands on his desk and stands up, leaning in, until she wants to back away. She holds her ground even though it was a stupid thing to say and an even stupider one to double down on.

  “The front office thinks you’re going to save this franchise,” he says. “Of course, it’s why they brought Mathers in. Are you going to end up like him or are you going to win?”

  What about why the front office brought you in? You were hired to turn the franchise around and look where we are. How long until they cut you loose?

  She’s angry and frustrated and scared, and he’s the first available target and probably the worst one. One wrong word and he could scratch her like he did last season or assign her to Manchester. He was right earlier, he doesn’t have power over trades, but he does have power over whether or not she plays.

  “You’re dismissed. Come back tomorrow with a better attitude.”

  She holds her ground long enough for doubt to flicker across his gaze. When she leaves, it takes all her self-control not to slam the door.

  When she arrives home, there’s evidence her cleaning service has been through. There are lines in the carpet from the vacuum and the room smells faintly of lemon. The counters gleam, and she can walk barefoot through the kitchen without stepping on spilled granola or dried peas.

  It’s too orderly. She wants to rip open a bag of quinoa and toss it around the kitchen. She wants to tip all the books off her bookcase or shove all the cushions off her couch. She wasn’t able to unleash her temper at the rink, and it flares up again now, demanding a response to what happened today.

  It makes her wish she put in some time with the heavy weight bag. After her meeting with Butler, it would’ve been cathartic to punch something. It also would’ve been too easy to accidentally hurt herself, and X had a point earlier this morning. Their season isn’t over because Matty was traded, but if she busts up her hands doing something stupid then her season will be.

  The truth she isn’t ready to accept yet is they can play without Matty. It will be hard, and there will be a huge hole in their lineup, but they’ll adjust and recover and, if she trusts the front office, they’ll be better for it. She’s in the NAHL now, trades are part of the business. If she can’t handle it, she won’t last much longer in this league.

  She won’t last if she holds a grudge against her coach, either. Yeah, he promised they could keep Matty and then broke his promise, but if she was thinking clearly, she would’ve remembered he isn’t in charge of trades. His job is to motivate his players to be their best, and he did. He squeezed the best out of Sophie and now it’s up to her to keep playing well, even though he can’t dangle Matty in front of her as a reward.

  Her phone rings, and she glances at it, prepared to ignore the call until she sees it’s Colby. He’s the only person she’d pick the phone up for right now, and she answers with a sullen, “Hey.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”


  “Okay.”

  And this is why she picked up his call. He won’t force her to talk about it. Her mom would sit in silence until Sophie cracked and her dad would talk until Sophie said something to give herself a break from his lecture.

  Her dad.

  “Do you think it’s too late to tell Dad not to come down for the Dads’ Trip?” They play Toronto and Quebec before they kick off the Dads’ Trip against Denver. Having her dad in town is stressful in the best of situations and having him here in the middle of this mess…

  “Probably,” Colby answers.

  She sighs and sinks down onto her couch. “We play Denver for our first game in front of the dads. At least I can’t play worse than I did last time.” There’s no reason to work herself up over this. She and her dad have their routine down pat by now. She’ll play, he’ll tell her how she can be better, she’ll play again. And he won’t let her wallow in the trade the way her mom would.

  “You’ve been on a hot streak recently.”

  “Because I wanted to keep Matty.” And somehow she’s talking about the thing she didn’t want to talk about. “I know I shouldn’t need extra motivation, but what am I supposed to play for now?”

  “Play for the team. You told me you’re making the playoffs this season.”

  Concord first.

  She takes a deep breath and feels more settled after it. “Tomorrow’s going to be a fucking disaster.”

  “It’s hockey. Focus on being your best. It doesn’t matter who you face when you’re on top of your game.”

  “Thanks, Colb.”

  The news of the trade spreads quickly. On its heels is speculation over who the next captain of the Concord Condors will be. The general consensus is it will be X. He’s their longest tenured player, his name is synonymous with Concord, and if anyone can drag this team to the playoffs it’s him.

  When he’s asked about it after morning skate, he laughs and shakes his head. “I’m flattered you think so, but I’ve never been interested in being captain. There are plenty of my teammates who are more deserving.”