Page 48 of Not the Puck Bunny

She looked horrified, in a fascinated kind of way. “Barbaric.” She wouldn't let on, but she was actually enjoying the game.

“That's what we like about it,” the pink-haired woman said from behind us.

Cynthia clicked her tongue.

I ignored her and followed Cam around the ice with my gaze. He seemed to be everywhere, all at once. On and off as they switched back and forth between him and another winger. I didn't know how they kept track of shifts, but no one missed a beat, switching out quickly every forty-five seconds or so.

I cheered as Blake stopped a goal with his glove at the last moment, preventing the Tornadoes from equaling the score. Moments later, Cam had possession of the puck and slapped it over to the right winger, who slapped it back before Cam flicked it past the opposition‘s goalie and into the basket.

I found myself on my feet, cheering and clapping along with everyone else.

He turned his face and looked straight at mebefore raising his stick to point in my direction. He nodded and grinned.

That goal was for me.

The crowd went wild and, once again I was on the big screen, this time grinning proudly, rather than choking. Hopefully this was the footage that went viral, not the hotdog. Yeah, that was a faint hope, but a girl could dream, couldn't she?

“I assume that was a good thing,” my mother said. “The score seems to be three to one in our favor.”

I sat back down and raised my eyebrows at her. “It'soursnow, is it?” I half-teased.

“My daughter owns the team, therefore it's ours,” she said with a sniff. “I suppose you expect me to attend more games.”

“I don't expect anything, Mom,” I said gently. “But if you'd like to join me, I'll be happy to have you here. Dad too. You should try a cupcake. These are really good.” I finished the last of mine and licked frosting from my fingers. “I realized something from almost choking to death. Life is too short not to enjoy every moment of it. If that means having a treat once in a while, then where's the harm?”

Predictably, she looked unconvinced. “I brought a banana.” She reached into her bag.

“I'll remember to have catering supply bananas next time,” I assured her. If my mother wanted bananas, then bananas she should have.

“Be careful eating that though. Especially if the camera is turned in our direction.” That didnotneed to go viral. I didn't know who'd be more horrified, her or me.

Pia would find the whole thing hilarious. Hotdog, banana, whatever. She'd be rolling on the floor laughing at the sight of it. Except the bit where I almost died. The fact she wasn't blowing up my phone with text messages meant she hadn't seen it yet. She would, soon enough.

“I know you think I'm a boring old lady,” Cynthia started. “but I just want you to live a long, healthy life. Is that so terrible?”

“Not at all.” I was surprised she hadn't added 'productive,' but for once, she didn't. Maybe she was lightening up. “It just means you care. But I don't need a lecture. Or to be judged. Not from you. Just support me and cheer me on. And I'll do the same to you. In fact, I think we should work together to organize a charity event. We can get the whole team involved.”

Briefly I wondered if we couldincorporate the team hotdog eating session, but I suspected that might be a step too far for my mother.

“I'd enjoy that, Andrea,” she said.

“Andi,” I corrected.

She lowered her eyebrows slightly and went on eating her banana.

One step at a time.

I returned my attention to the ice as the fourth period began.

By the time the horn sounded at the end of the game, even my mother was on her feet, clapping and smiling. She didn't cheer, but this was enough. Seeing her enjoy herself, and her appreciation for the team, made my heart a little happier. A little lighter.

Did she have any idea how much it meant to me that we were sharing this? That she wasn't just sitting in her chair, her arms crossed, looking like she wanted to be anywhere but here?

No, that pose was usually reserved for things like school plays and piano recitals. She valued the arts, she even raised money for it, but she didn't want her daughters in occupations that could be considered artistic. As far as she was concerned, that wasn't realwork. Even after seeing me practice piano for hours at a time. Making her proud was always one of my biggest challenges.

Tonight, I felt like maybe I was capable of doing just that.

Cam and the rest of the team were skating around, hugging each other and grinning. And shaking hands with opposition players as they skated past. Making me proud was something he did effortlessly. Not only because I owned the team, but because I was learning to appreciate the game and the skill it took to do what he did. He made it look easy, but it was far from it.

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