He pulls me into a bear hug. “Sweetheart. I only want the best for you. I don’t want you to get hurt. But I would never have forgiven my parents if they had forbid me from playing. I just forgot. That’s all. Promise me, you’ll be careful?”
“What?” I pull away and look at Jake to make sure he heard the same thing I did. “I can play?”
“You can play.”
I’ve pinched myself a dozen times. I still can’t believe my dad gave me permission to play. I don’t even care that we’re going to get crushed. We’ve been playing teams that are bigger and stronger since I started, so that’s no different. I’ve never been so excited about a game we’re sure to lose.
I sneak out of the locker room and stand just inside the hallway. I can see out into the main rink area, but I’m hidden. The little kids are doing drills up and down the ice and the noise from the crowd is deafening. The whole town is totally here. Jason Reed from the Bruins stands in the spotlight calling each kid’s name and the crowd is electric. The selfie I took with him when he first got here is already uploaded as my profile picture.
Earlier, when I spotted the Restaurant Network van in the parking lot, I almost cried. Holy hell, I thought they were done. But then Troy Depalma flashed me a thumbs-up and Mark Wilder jogged over to help me haul my bag out of the trunk of Grams’s car. But then again, it doesn’t much matter anymore. At least on a personal level.
I’ve watched all the videos Coach gave us of varsity games to memorize their tendencies, their power plays and shorthanded strategies. I’m still not ready to go head-to-head with Warren McNeill.
Individually, we’ve added a few new moves to our repertoire, but it’s still hard to maneuver around a bigger team when they’re all bearing down at once. My knees shake a bit when I think of my parents and pretty much the whole school in the stands. Jason Reed says something I can’t hear, and the crowd goes wild again. I take a step back and almost bump into someone.
“This is the biggest crowd we’ve ever had,” a familiar voice says. I spin around and Jake smiles encouragingly and my knees wobble. I did not expect to see him until later tonight.
“What are you doing here? How did you get out of detention?”
“I talked to Jones. I told her everything about the last four years and all the times I took the punishment for something I hadn’t done.” He grins and puts a finger to his lips. “She believes me, but I promised her I wouldn’t flaunt her leniency by playing today, since I’m supposed to be in detention.” He looks like he’s won the lottery. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen to Warren on Monday.”
“I don’t know what to say. Wow.”
“I just wish I’d done it sooner. It feels so good to get it off my chest.” He shrugs. “Thank you.”
I’m glad he’s here, but he still can’t play. This is his team; he’s the one who all these guys respect. And he’s not going to play.
All those years I wasted by not being his friend. There’s no way to get those back. And there’s no way I’m going back to the way things were before I was playing hockey. Before I knew Jake.
I sigh and lean against him. “It feels good not to lie anymore.” I glance up and catch a glimpse of my family taking their seats. Suddenly my knees are wobbling because I’m aware of my parents and grandmother sitting in the stands, not because Jake Gomes is smiling at me. “What the hell am I going to do?”
Jake looks at me, “You’re kidding, right? You’re going to play. And you’re going to kick it! They’re here to watch you and they are sponsoring the team.” He leans forward and waves up the stands. “Did you see the television crew? Do you think the game will be on the show?”
“Of course the game will be on the show.” Troy Depalma strides past us, the whole camera crew in tow. “The game is the show. It’ll be the focal point … with taped interviews spliced in. It’s a first of its kind. Such great Local Flavor!”
“What?” My knees are shaking so hard, I almost fall into Jake. “No pressure or anything,” I say, regaining my balance.
Jake grips both sides of my helmet and makes me look at him. “You can do this. Just go out there and have fun. Don’t worry about winning. Don’t worry about impressing anyone. Don’t worry about the cameras.”
I glance over our heads again. My mother is completely ignoring us. She’s listening to an animated conversation, complete with huge, flamboyant arm movements, with Mrs. Gomes and a guy who has to be Carter’s father. Grams waves and gives me a thumbs-up. Dad stares straight ahead, like he’s afraid to see me in my gear.
“They’re finally here to see you play, so you might as well give it all you’ve got. You’ve got to help the guys kick butt.” He turns me to face him and crouches down a bit so he’s looking me in the face. “You’re really good, Pen. You could stay and play with us, or go and play with girls’ varsity. Or you could still quit, if you want. You should do what you want. I’d like you to keep playing with us. I’d miss seeing you at practice, but I can guarantee it’s not going to change how I feel. I’m still going to come around and order bacon sandwiches from the restaurant and walk you home.”
I lean toward him. I just want to kiss him again, but with all my gear on, I can’t get nearly close enough. A fist bump will have to suffice.
He smirks as he kisses the top of my helmet. “Hockey teammates do not kiss each other, Pen. At least not while they are in full gear.” He winks at me. “But I could smack your ass if you’d like.”
I whack him with my stick for good measure. The rest of the team streams out of the locker room and starts the ritual. The assistant coach squirts everyone in turn with the water bottle and each guy spits out on the floor. For the first time, I take my turn and get a squirt. It’s watered down Gatorade. I spit just like everyone else, and Carter slaps me on the back. He practically knocks me into Flores, but it’s all right.
This is my team.
Hitting the ice with my parents watching feels amazing. I can finally wear my jersey without being nervous about who’s watching. I can’t believe how relaxed that makes me feel.
We skate a full circle around the rink and as the varsity team takes the ice, the tension in the room crackles. Varsity looks even bigger with their equipment and skates on. The Viking, Vernon High’s team mascot, runs up and down the aisle in front of the bleachers. Up in the stands kids are holding signs. I see a couple that say “Kill Team Reject” but then I see one that says, “Go, Rats!”
Too bad we’re about to get crushed.
The roar of the crowd is distant, even though we’ve got the biggest audience we’ve ever had, the Plexiglas keeps the noise low. We’re all a little nervous, skittering around the bigger guys as we warm up. I’m playing center, and I imagine how Jake would approach the situation. I try not to look at Hunter Tilton as the referee drops the puck at our feet.
I push my stick into his business, but he deftly sweeps the puck away from me and flies toward Carter at net. None of our defense even gets near him. He shoots, but Carter reaches up and swipes the puck away.
Warren traps Mark Temple in the corner and gets a penalty for high-sticking him in the ribs. Temple doubles over but manages to stay on his feet.
Varsity is firmly in control of the game, but every time one of them tries to score, Carter manages to block.
When the referee isn’t looking, they get nasty. Warren knocks Flores onto the ice with a shove. The crowd goes crazy, yelling for the ref to open his eyes.
“Time out!” Coach screams. As we huddle for a quick talk, he says, “Listen. This is going to be a rough game. They are going to try to get away with playing dirty. They are going to be on the edge of illegal actions—so don’t let it make you sloppy. Let them take themselves down. Get back out there and play the best you can.”
At the beginning of the second period, the goalie on the other team goes left to block a shot and takes a stick to the knee from one of his teammates. He shakes it off, but he starts leaning left after that.
<
br /> As soon as I realize it might give us an advantage, I yell to Temple. “Aim over his right shoulder!”
I can’t figure out why his coach doesn’t take him out. Warren yells, “What the hell, Ryder, block the frigging net!”
By the end of the second period, which seems like it takes forever, we’re up three to one. We never expected to score on them, let alone score more than once. During the break, the varsity coach realizes his goalie is hurt. He pulls him and sticks in the backup goalkeeper.
I glance up at my parents. It’s hard to decipher their expressions from this distance. But I imagine it’s a cross between elated and worried. Grams, on the other hand, is on her feet wolf whistling. She gestures enthusiastically at the camera crew when she sees me looking.
Lori leans over the railing that goes up into the stands. One look at her face and its evident something is wrong.
I yell to Coach. “Gotta hit the bathroom!”
He waves for me to go. “Be fast. You’ve got less than five minutes.”
As soon as she sees me moving toward the locker room, Lori starts down the stairs at a run. She meets me in the hallway.
“I’ve only got a second; Coach thinks I have to pee. What’s up?”
“The other team is cheating. You’ve got to tell them.” She’s panting like she’s just run a marathon.
“What are you talking about? We scored three times during that period.”
“Seriously, I’ve been watching the clock. The timekeeper is totally trying to give them more time to catch up. During that last point, when Warren had the puck? It took like thirty seconds for the last ten seconds to count down. Even though he missed the shot, the timekeeper was trying to give him more time.” She takes a breath. “A few of the kids in the stands were talking about it. They know the kid at the timekeeper’s desk. Apparently, he bragged that he was going to do it if varsity got in trouble.”
I’m shaking my head like I don’t believe it, but it makes sense. “They’ve been slashing at us when the ref isn’t looking, too. Did you see Hunter Tilton trip Johnson?”
She nods. “Too bad the ref is the varsity coach’s brother-in-law.”
Seriously? Even the adults are cheats.
This time, maybe we can use the camera crew to our advantage. I whisper the plan to Lori and she smiles. “I love you when you’re evil.”
I wobble on my skates as I totter back to the bench to hear the end of the pep talk.
Coach gestures with his hands. The guys are focused, sitting and staring at him from the bench. “I know you want to go out there and hit those guys with the same dirty tactics they’re pulling on you. The crowd is demanding it. But that’s not why we’re here. Ignore the crowd; they have nothing to do with you. If you have to hit, hit with purpose.” He paces in front of the bench like he’s jacked up on sugar and caffeine. “I want you to stay focused. Don’t look at the clock. Don’t think about your math test on Monday. Don’t think about the party later. You can outskate these guys. Just play like I know you all can.” He leads a cheer and the sound is deafening.
“Rink Rats, Rink Rats, Rink Rats!”
The boys are totally pumped. Carter stands up and paces like he’s chugged an extra strength Red Bull. “We got this.” He gets in Flores’s face and yells, “Do you want this?” He punches his shoulder and Flores practically falls off the bench.
I’ve never seen them like this. Probably because as long as any of them have been playing here, they’ve never had a game that really mattered. We’ve been up by a point, but never by two. And winning has so rarely been on the table, and never with opponents like these guys. It doesn’t even matter that we’re up because of their stupid goalie’s pride.
It’s amazing what a little positive press can do. I wonder how much of this is due to our article, or the sponsorship, or the fact that we have a full house watching us today. The Restaurant Network crew is out there using this as a special-interest story as part of Slice’s spot for the show. I hope that Lori can convince them that varsity is cheating.
I open my mouth to tell the guys about the timekeeper, and then I decide against it. We’re up two points even with the cheating. I don’t tell Coach, but something about the way he glances at the clock tells me he might already know.
Third period starts off slow—we’re tired and it shows. I skate around the edge of the rink warming up again. I look into the stands and notice a few more kids holding signs with our team name on them. The girls’ varsity team is sitting together about halfway up the stands. As I’m watching, they hold up signs that say, Spaulding Rocks! I can’t believe they even know my name. I suddenly feel like I’m doing this for more than just my team. We are the underdogs. We are the ones the bullies love to push around. We’re the ones minding our own business and getting beat up for just being ourselves. We need to win this for all the other kids who are rooting for us.
Jake is on his feet at the glass. He’s yelling instructions to us, but he forgets it’s hard to hear from the other side of the glass. I wave and point to my ear, shaking my head.
The ref blows the whistle. I’m poised for the face-off. I look up and realize I’m fighting Warren McNeill for control of the puck just as the ref drops it on the ice.
Warren grabs the puck and cruises down the ice toward Carter. I take a breath and bolt after him. It feels so natural now to race down the ice in full gear with my stick—I barely think of the equipment as I get into the corner and flick the puck back toward Temple. I can’t believe a few short weeks ago, I’d never held a hockey stick.
Knowing Dad is watching me gives me a jolt of energy. He knows what it’s like to feel this exhilaration. The way I feel right now, I could conquer the world.
I glance over at Jake sitting in the stands and he pumps his arm in the air. It doesn’t matter what the final score is; I’ve already won.
And that’s when I take the full body blow and hit the wall.
Chapter Twenty-five
My butt and back hit the ice first and then my head whips up and down as my helmet hits the hard surface. I have a weird vision of myself as Wile E. Coyote, with stars circling my head. The lights above the rink are swaying. I’m wondering if this is how Dad felt the last day he played hockey. Jimmy Flores is the first one to my side. “Oh my God, Pen, are you okay?” He’s trying to take off my helmet, but I hear a voice yelling at him to stop.
Jake’s voice from far away. “Don’t touch her, Jimmy!”
Coach’s pale face appears above me. “Can you hear me, Penelope?”
I remember barreling toward Warren McNeill, chasing down a puck, and then nothing. A blank space where my memory should be.
Dad’s voice. There’s a slight waver in his tone. “Pen? Penelope? Can you hear me?”
Someone’s carefully taking off my helmet. A cold breeze hits my neck, and I try to raise myself up on my elbows.
“No, sweetheart.” Dad slides a folded towel under my head. “Stay still.”
And then someone takes my glove off and holds my hand. “Hey, Blades. What’s up?”
I squeeze his hand to make sure he knows I’m glad he’s here. I’m scared because I can’t remember the last five minutes, and I have no idea how I ended up flat on my back on the ice.
His voice quavers. “I hope you appreciate that I just fell on my ass twice on my way out here.”
I try to laugh, but I’m having a hard time taking a breath.
The paramedics get there not thirty seconds later. Part of the rink regulations require medics on property during games. Someone’s always going down in hockey.
It’s just never been me.
A bright beam flashes in front of my face. A stranger’s voice says, “Can you follow the light?”
I nod, but it makes me want to puke. There are too many people here for me to puke on the ice, and I know Mr. Thompson hates to clean up vomit.
“I need to get off the ice,” I whisper.
A couple more quick checks and they de
termine my neck isn’t broken. Small miracle, because it feels like I got run over by the Zamboni. Jake and Dad each take one of my arms, as the paramedic lifts me to my feet. The crowd goes wild as they lead me off the ice.
I still feel nauseous, but somehow I manage not to throw up on anyone. “You rock, Spaulding!” I hear behind me. Carter has started a chant. “Spaulding! Spaulding! Spaulding!”
When we get to the locker room, they lower me gently on the nearest bench. Dad takes off my skates. I open my mouth, but he interrupts. “Don’t say it.”
I close my eyes and will the tears to stop. It’s not going to help. “Where’s Mom?”
He looks at the door. “I’m guessing she’ll be here in a second with your grandmother.”
Sure enough, a minute later, Mom, Grams, and Lori barrel through the door. Lori is panting again, as she grips the doorjamb. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
Grams whacks her on the arm. “My granddaughter can take a hit. She’ll be back on the ice next week.”
Surprised, I look up at Grams, who’s grinning like a deranged hyena. “What? You were awesome out there, sweetheart.” She glances at Jake. “And why weren’t you out there on the ice, my boy?”
Jake sputters. “Um.”
“If you’d been out there on her left wing, that big kid wouldn’t have smashed her. If she’s going to continue to play, she needs a team that has her back.”
“Grams. It’s okay. Jimmy was playing left, it’s not his fault. He’s getting better. We all are … we’re just outgunned.” I glance at Mom, wondering what she’s thinking about Grams taking my side.
“What are you talking about? Those boys were grasping at straws trying to win. Your team played better and didn’t let emotion take over. Those other boys were doing anything they could to play dirty.”
“Pen. You should have seen yourself. That slam was real.” Jake gives me one of his loopy grins, but it looks forced and I know it must have been a scary fall. “Your head is going to hurt for days.”
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