Page 31 of The Penalty

I ignore JJ and Grant even when our illustrious goalie ends up at my feet, half dressed. He hurled himself on his friend for an unannounced piggyback ride gone wrong.

“Iceman! Nothing’s going to throw you off your game, is it, Lucy?” Grant asks despite the laughter shaking his shoulders.

I don’t bother to answer, instead replying with a slight lift of my brow. It only ratchets his laughter up to the next level, almost sending him to his knees.

JJ jumps to his feet, bounding over to me like the excited puppy he is. “Lucy. I was worried about you. You’re always one of the first ones to arrive. What happened?”

The bus was late, that’s what happened. “None of your business, JJ.”

“It is. I need you out there. My brick wall. Jameson is out on the ice tonight. He’s sent more than one goalie flying.”

He was worried. Jameson is a dick, and I’d be happy to be the one to teach him a lesson if he tries to pull any shit on my goalie. “Don’t worry. I got your back.”

He smiles, walking back over to his stall with a swagger. “See, I told you he’s my friend.” He’s trying to be quiet, hissing the words to Grant and Mack, but he’s not great at volume control and the room is small. I shake my head, turning to grab my equipment so no one notices the twitching of my lips.

Even though I got in later than most of the team, I’m the first one out the door and into the tunnel. The thump of skates on rubber echoes behind me as I make my way to the ice. My favorite place. I need it more than usual today. The weightless feeling of gliding on the icy surface, freshly smoothed out by the Zamboni. I’m not interested in being the center of attention, but once the buzzer sounds, the crowd melts away as I’m consumed by the game.

I’m waiting for Beau to catch up and lead us onto the ice, scanning the packed arena just in case Cece showed up. Even though I know she’s not interested in hockey, there’s a miniscule part of me that is hoping she’s out there. An icy shock hits me in the guts when I spot someone else familiar out there. He’s sitting in the stands to the left of the tunnel. Not in the friends and family section, but too close to it for my liking.

His smile falters when he catches my glare. I shake my head and get jostled from behind, not realizing our captain slipped by me and we’re on the move. I stomp the rest of the way, hopping onto the ice with a thump and racing past Beau.

“Hey, you okay?” Beau’s hand lands on my shoulder as he catches up to me.

“Fine.”

I’m sure he’ll spot the lie if I turn to look at him, so I keep my eyes fixed on the path. He’s the only person who can read me. Who can see past my carefully cultivated veneer of calm.

“You sure? You haven’t been around as much, Lucy. Leaving me with those children.” I follow his glance to catch sight of JJ and Grant still jostling each other. Cole is storming along behind them, brow pinched in a frown as he stares at Hail’s back.

“Exactly. I don’t have the time in my senior year to deal with those hooligans.” I’m practically growling not.

“Thanks, bestie. Appreciate the support.”

“Hey, you said yes to the captain’s gig. You laced your skates, now you’ve gotta hit the ice on them.”

He slaps my back with a laugh, and there’s a strained look on his face. “I guess you’re right, Lucy.”

That was shitty of me. I should be supporting him. I’m not his alternate, but I am his friend, and instead of helping him out, all I can think about is his sister.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Let me know if you need anything.” I tap gloves with him, settling back a stride behind for our lap of thearena.

The conversation was enough of a distraction I almost forgot this isn’t just a practice. The sweeping spotlights and rumble of the crowd as we skate the perimeter is a brutal reminder, and my nerves ratchet back up to the level that always sets in during a game. Especially an important one like this. The first and last games of every season are always significant to me.

I’m conflicted. Back in the place I love. Competing, proving myself. That I’m better than my past. Better than my upbringing. Better than the names the other kids called me when I’d show up at school wearing second-hand clothes. Out here, on the ice, with my team, we’re all in it together. But there’s still doubt. That I’m not good enough, and never will. That I don’t deserve this. My only solution when those doubts creep in is to work harder, go the extra mile. Prove myself with my actions.

I slip across the slick surface as our names boom out, echoing through the cavernous space.

The crowd is riled up, cheers and stomps booming across the clean sheet of ice. Freshly groomed ice is the best. So much potential in front of us. Senior year for me and Beau. Our chance to claim the glory of a trophy, proving our worth without the heavy hitting stars who moved on to the next level after winning the champs last year.

Jameson, UPenn’s massive defender, starts the game off quick and dirty, hooking Grant in a subtle move the ref misses. Big mistake. I’m always determined to win, but if you’re going to pull dirty shit on my teammates, I’m gonna take you down. Guy may be big, but he’s a hothead. And nothing makes ahothead lose it faster than playing hard, but fair. And not caving to their taunts.

Beau glances at the ref, calling out for justice, but he doesn’t push his luck. I can’t say I blame him. This ref has tossed players for smaller sins than fighting a missed call. He’s got beady little mouse eyes. Maybe that’s why he misses so many calls.

My eyes dart back and forth, tracking the puck and all the other players as they zip over the slick surface in a familiar dance.

Alarm bells scream in my head when their top scorer Luchek snags the puck. I drive my legs into high gear, pushing off the ice at what some might say is an impossible speed for someone of my size. But I’ve spent years defying the odds, and I’m not about to stop now.

Working three jobs this summer didn’t stop me from getting in as much ice time and cardio as I could manage. I pushed myself to the limit of my endurance every day. That’s one good thing about having the house to myself all summer. No distractions. Every spare minute of time I’ve had has been devoted to improving my speed and my game, other than that one weekend. I catch sight of Beau, stifling the thought immediately.

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