Sophomore Surge

by K R Collins

  Yeah, months ago. And he deserved it. She pulls her lunch out of the microwave. “It won’t happen again.” She eats standing up at the island counter as her dad reads his newspaper in the other room.

  “This Marty Owen fellow is critical. It’s important having reporters willing to challenge you.”

  “For sure. I have to nap. Do you want me to set you up with the TV?”

  “I’m going to call your mother. I’ll tell her you said hello.”

  Sophie lingers in the kitchen for another moment, but she doesn’t have anything else to say. She nods, mostly to herself, and heads down the hall to her room.

  She wakes up refreshed but not prepared for her dad to insist he drive to dinner. She should’ve been, she’s known him her entire life and he hasn’t changed, but it still takes her a few seconds to gather her thoughts enough to say, “I’ve lived here for two years now, I know where we’re going.”

  “GPS,” her dad dismisses. He holds up the keys to his rental.

  She imagines what her teammates will say if her dad drives her to team dinner as if she’s still in midget. “I’m driving.” She grabs her own keys from where they hang near the door.

  Her dad’s caught off guard by her assertion, and after a five-count with nothing from him, she’s afraid he’ll insist on taking two cars to dinner. Finally, he tucks his keys into his pockets. “I suppose I could have a beer or two with dinner. Your mother can’t stand the smell.”

  Sophie nods and, glad she’s won, hurries them out the door before he can change his mind. Her dad talks about beer the whole drive there, his favorites and how he should try something local even though he’s certain it will be disappointing. Sophie doesn’t even drink, but anger still prickles under her skin at the slight against her city. She answers in “huhs” and “hmms”, not speaking an actual word for the whole ride.

  By the time they arrive at the steakhouse, her patience is frayed, and she’s perhaps too enthusiastic when she spots Teddy and his dad getting out of Teddy’s Escalade. Sophie waves and Teddy pauses long enough for them to catch up to him.

  “Good evening, Mister Augereau,” she greets. “You grew up in Montreal, didn’t you?”

  Mr. Augereau answers in French, a twinkle in his eye, which tells her Teddy inherited his sense of humor from his dad. Sophie answers in halting French before, thankfully, her dad takes over, and Sophie and Teddy are ignored in favor of comparing favorite places in the city.

  Teddy, cementing his standing as her favorite teammate, urges their dads to sit together at dinner and guides Sophie to the far end of the table.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs. “If I make it through this week it will be a miracle.”

  She glances down the table. Her dad shakes his cloth napkin out and lays it carefully across his lap. He plucks the drink menu from its place, nestled between the salt and pepper shaker. He gave up nights out with his buddies from work to stay home and train her or to drive her to practice. He and her mom both sacrificed so she and her brother could play hockey.

  She wouldn’t be here, with Teddy on one side and Zinger on the other, if it weren’t for her dad. She shakes her own napkin out and lays it across her lap. “I wouldn’t in the NAHL if he hadn’t pushed me. But…sometimes I wish he could start a game breakdown with ‘you did well.’”

  It’s a silly hope; he didn’t do it when she was a kid, so why should he start now?

  Coach Butler doesn’t avoid the Sophie-Sinclair matchup which either means he has faith in her or, more likely, it’s a test. He wants to see if she can keep her cool better than the last time they played the Boulders. He wants to see if she’s less emotional.

  Thinking about the previous game makes anger prickle along her spine. But if Coach Butler wants to see her growth, she’ll put it on display.

  She has her first opportunity on her third shift. They’re pinned in their own zone, and she battles with Kirkland against the boards for possession of the puck. She wins the puck to Witzer, but it’s intercepted by Pickard and thrown on net. Lindy slaps his glove down, but Pickard takes a few extra jabs. Kevlar puts himself between the Boulders’ defenseman and his goalie and glowers. When the officials go to make sure it doesn’t escalate, Sinclair shoves Sophie.

  He glances up at the box where all the dads are sitting. “Daddy gonna get mad if I rough up his little girl?”

  She doesn’t have the time for his bullshit. She shoulders past him and he puts his stick out, stopping her. The crowd, restless from the almost-goal and disappointed with the lack of Pickard-Kevlar fight, perk up at the prospect of a Sophie-Sinclair fight.

  It’s Merlin who knocks Sinclair’s stick out of his hands. It clatters loudly on the ice. “Fuck off.”

  Sinclair smirks, his attention never leaving Sophie. “Well-trained.”

  She grabs a handful of Merlin’s jersey before he launches himself at Sinclair. She tugs him toward the bench and, once he realizes it’s skate on his own or be towed, he shakes off her grip. “I’m going to deck him. Fucking asshole.”

  “You’re going to play hard and stay out of the box.”

  Merlin knocks the bench door open and clambers through. He sits heavily next to Zinger and glares at the Boulders bench.

  Sophie takes a deep breath and sits next to him.

  Kellman, Denver’s resident brute, has an extra elbow for Sophie every time they fight for the puck. He can’t keep up with her skill-wise so he wraps his stick around her waist in a hold the officials don’t call, he slashes her ankles when she beats him to the puck and, once one of his teammates stops her along the boards, he throws a shoulder into her to knock her off the puck.

  She ends up on the ice with Rawlings, Sinclair 2.0, and he crushes her into the boards. She wobbles but stays on her skates. He shoves her again as Kirkland sweeps his stick out, in theory going for the puck, but he hits her ankles instead and between the two of them, she goes down, landing hard on her knees.

  “This is a good place for you,” Rawlings says.

  She grits her teeth and, seizing on their distraction, pokes the puck free to Merlin. As soon as he scoops it up, she pushes to her skates and plants herself in front of the net. Merlin passes up to Kevlar then drifts to the far dot. He takes the return pass and drops to one knee as he shoots. Pickard’s in the right place; the puck deflects off his skate but it lands on Sophie’s stick. She slips the puck under Lenno’s pads and pushes it across the goal line.

  She seeks out Rawlings as she lifts her arms in celebration. Fuck you and your piece of shit team.

  Sinclair is smarter than she gives him credit for. It only takes him a period and a half before he realizes he won’t throw her off her game like he did last time. She’s practiced with Ritchie, and she’s been given the responsibility of the Condors; she won’t lose her composure this time.

  So he turns to easier targets.

  She doesn’t know what he says to Theo but one moment, Sophie’s skating to the bench for a change, the next there are gloves on the ground and both men are snarling as they try to punch the teeth out of each other’s mouths.

  “Aw, hell,” Sophie says.

  “About damn time,” Merlin says. “He’s been running his fucking mouth all night.”

  “And now you’re letting him fire up his team and take one of our best d-men out of the game for five minutes. He’s all talk and no action until you give him some action.”

  Merlin turns away from the fight to stare at her. “You have no idea how you sounded, do you?”

  She glares at him.

  The fight ends with Theo pinned to the ice, and the Denver bench roars for their captain. Theo and Sinclair continue to shout at each other as they’re escorted to the penalty boxes, and they keep going after they’re shut in.

  Merlin, energized by the fight, sits near the glass separating the two benches so he can shout over the poor broadcaster caught between the two teams. Kellman, looking gleeful, stands on his bench so he can shout back. Spitz and Big Red ar
e pulled into the yelling, and Sophie looks to Coach Butler to do something, because the team is losing their damn minds.

  He crosses his arms over his chest and looks as happy as she’s ever seen him in a game.

  She’s tempted to throw her hands up in the air. Instead, she sits down next to Kevlar. “Tell me you still have your head screwed on straight.”

  “I wouldn’t say straight, but I’m not about to fight anyone.”

  “Good. Talk to the kids, would you?”

  J-Rod’s drawn into the fray before Coach Butler sends J-Rod and X over the boards with Peets’ line. She chews on her mouth guard and hopes J-Rod doesn’t do something stupid and get his head pounded by Rawlings.

  Ten seconds into the shift it’s Garfield who drops his gloves. You’re supposed to know better, she thinks as he throws punches in a fight he’s outmatched in.

  There’s a whole three minutes before Kuzy and Kellman drop the gloves. She’s so angry she sees red as more people are added to the penalty boxes.

  “Fournier, you’re up,” Coach Butler says.

  She takes Merlin and Witzer over the boards with them, but they have J-Rod and X on the back end thanks to two of their d-men being in the box. She lines up for the faceoff against Denver’s third line center.

  It seems as if it takes an eternity for the horn to sound, ending the second period. As they pass their coach on their way to the locker room, she can’t help but notice he still looks cheery. So it’s only too emotional when I fight in a game? If it’s the guys then you’re proud?

  She’s practically vibrating with anger when she enters the locker room. She’s been on her best behavior all game, putting up with Denver and their fucking bullshit, because they have a game to win. And her teammates are…comparing bloodied knuckles.

  Theo shows off his hands and mimes a few on the punches he threw as if Sinclair didn’t hand his ass to him.

  “You seem awfully proud of yourselves,” Sophie says, her voice low and dangerous. The entire locker room falls silent as they look to her. Coach Butler won’t do anything to curb this? Fine. Sophie will. Matty told her this was her team now and they’re going to play Condors hockey, not some Boulders knockoff.

  She stops in front of Theo, towering over in him in her skates as he sits in his stall. “Why’d you fight?”

  “Sinclair said something he shouldn’t have about you.” He puffs up, as if he wants her to pat him on the head and thank him.

  She turns to Garfield. “You?”

  He, at least, has the sense to look wary. “Same.”

  Kuzy is the last she faces, and he doesn’t even wait for her to ask the question. “Kellman was talking shit.”

  “Did you know Sinclair spent the first damn period spewing shit to try and get me off my game? Rawlings did the same. Kellman plays fucking dirty but he kept his damn mouth shut at least. I didn’t let them get under my skin, because we have a game to win, but as soon as Sinclair turned his attention to you, you folded like a fucking chair.”

  She looks at Garfield again. “So, seeing his captain’s success, Rawlings thought he’d try the same thing. How’d he do, Garfield? Did he get to you?”

  Garfield narrows his eyes but he doesn’t say anything.

  “Then they send out a guy who scores ten goals a season if it’s a good one for him, because why risk putting one of their best players in the box when Concord’s easy to bait?”

  Kuzy flinches.

  Sophie turns away, because she can’t stand the sight of them right now. When she was weak against Denver, she was deservedly called out by everyone from her mom to Lenny Dernier. But she took the lesson to heart and adjusted her game. And now her teammates are being dumbasses.

  “Sofe, you didn’t hear what they were saying.”

  She spins to Merlin who sinks into his stall as if he regrets opening his mouth. “Of course I heard what they were saying. They tried all their lines on me first. And do you know what I did? I played fucking hockey. Do you think you’re being chivalrous by punching every guy who says something about me? You’re not. You’re inviting every single guy on every damn team to think of his worst lines, because if he can’t get to me then he’ll at least get to you. I don’t want you fighting for me. I want you playing hockey.”

  Nelson’s gaze darts to Coach Butler, and it takes every ounce of her self-control not to scream. “This next period will be hard,” she says, reclaiming the attention of the room. “Denver thinks they can get to you now. When you don’t respond, they’ll escalate. Do not engage.”

  “Play fucking hockey?” X asks. There’s a smile tugging at his lips, but it isn’t teasing. “I think we can handle it.”

  “We have a game to win.” Sophie finally returns to her own stall. She sits down and looks to Coach Butler for his input.

  It’s Coach Vorgen who steps forward. “I think Sophie summed it up well. Play hockey. Make your dads proud.”

  Coach Butler takes over, but Coach Vorgen pulls Sophie aside on their way back up to the ice to congratulate her on her control of the room.

  “Anyone can talk,” she says. “What matters is if they listen.”

  Coach Vorgen claps her on the shoulder and ushers her ahead of him.

  Two minutes into the third period, Theo scores with a slapper from the point.

  Ten minutes into the period, Kellman tries to start something with Merlin. Sophie’s winger looks at him as if he’s an irritating fly and hooks his arm through Sophie’s as they skate away. “Let’s score a goal.”

  It takes a power play opportunity, but they do; Sophie to Merlin to Garfield. She’s the first to reach Garfield after the goal, and she can’t help but ask, “Better than sitting in the box, eh?”

  He tries to look disgruntled, but his smile ruins it. “Better for my hands, certainly.”

  She laughs and pats his helmet before opening their celebration up to the rest of the guys on the ice.

  Realizing something’s changed, Denver sends Sinclair’s line out against Rocky and the kids. Wimberly knocks into Zinger, shoving the smaller player to the ground. He stands over him and looks at Big Red, challenging. Despite his name, Big Red isn’t big and fortunately he doesn’t take the bait. Sinclair says something to Rocky, who laughs and skates after the puck.

  The clock’s winding down on the game, the score is 3-0, and Sophie feels confident even as Denver pulls their goalie. She’s on the bench as Denver begins their full-on assault against the net, throwing shot after shot at Lindy. Somehow, they knock down every clearing attempt, and they keep the puck trapped in Concord’s zone.

  It’s Kellman of all people who scores, and Sophie feels a flicker of irritation as Lindy’s shutout is ruined. More troubling, the Denver bench is all on their feet, revitalized as if they think they can score another two before time runs out.

  “We shut it down now,” Sophie says.

  “Aye, aye,” Kevlar says as he throws one leg then the other over the boards. Theo follows him out, and they successfully defend against another Denver wave. Sophie’s on the edge of the bench, her stick planted on the ground, ready to spring into action as soon as Coach Butler calls on her.

  Instead, he sends Peets’ line out.

  Witzer pats her knee consolingly. She chews on her mouth guard as Peets takes a defensive zone faceoff against Sinclair. It’s a good learning opportunity for him, and it’s important for Coach Butler to show faith in him, but she still wishes she was the one out there.

  Peets locks sticks with Sinclair and holds his ground as Sinclair bears down. Garfield darts in, scoops up the loose puck, and outlets a pass to Nelson. Rawlings knocks Nelson off the puck. Pickard ends up with the puck on his stick, and settles it long enough to pass to his d-partner. Denver moves the puck and finally takes a shot. Kevlar drops down to block it and it skitters to open ice.

  Even though Denver has six guys to Concord’s five, it’s Garfield who reaches the puck first. One long stride then another and he’s broken out of their zone
. A few more strides and he’ll hit the red line, and it’ll be safe for him to dump the puck in.

  Kirkland scrambles, skating backward to keep himself between Garfield and the open net. A feint one way, a lunge the other, and Garfield has a clear lane. He sends the puck skipping down the ice and into the net.

  Four-one.

  Garfield looks right at her before he’s swallowed by the guys on the ice. When they return to the bench, he grins as he sits down next to her. “Am I forgiven?”

  She matches his smile. “Getting there.”

  Rocky and the kids finish out the game and they win 4-1, a decisive victory to kick off the Dads’ Trip.

  They don’t see much of their dads after the game, because the team goes out to celebrate the win and have a belated celebration for Sophie’s fiftieth goal. She shows up to the bar early enough to snag a seat deep in the booth.

  Theo, spotting her, disappears to the bar and when he comes back, he offers her a yellow drink with an umbrella resting on the rim. “It’s non-alcoholic, promise.”

  She takes a cautious sniff and wrinkles her nose. “What’s your obsession with pineapple?”

  “It’s a great fruit.” He grins, showing off his usual missing teeth. He didn’t sacrifice any more in tonight’s game. Her job is to make sure he doesn’t lose any on her behalf. She clinks her glass against his beer, a thank-you, both for the drink and for pulling himself together.

  “Are you dancing tonight?” Witzer asks. “I’m sure we can get the DJ to play ‘All I Do is Win’.”

  Merlin rolls his eyes. “Sofe never dances.” He looks around the table. “But someone has to celebrate this win in style.”

  “I will,” Spitz volunteers.

  “You? You’re almost as much of a hermit as Sofe.”

  “I’m not a hermit,” Sophie protests.

  Spitz puffs up, offended. “I know how to have fun.” He pokes Big Red. “You’re coming with me.”

  “He’s the worst wingman,” Wilchinski complains. “He always steals your girls.”