Page 58 of Leave

“For tonight’s Hometown Hero Salute,” the announcer said, “the Seattle Breakers would like to honor local veteran Sergeant First Class Lynnette Sullivan.” He then rattled off some details about her career, which had been an eight-year enlistment in the Army. She’d served two tours in Iraq, and while it hadn’t been the kind of career that would get her name in a history book, she’d served honorably and earned a handful of medals along the way.

The crowd gave her a standing ovation as someone handed her a camouflaged jersey styled with the team’s logo and her last name printed across the back.

Then the announcer said, “If you are able, we ask you to please rise for the singing of the National Anthem.”

We did, and when the song was finished, the game was apparently ready to start.

As the players set up at the middle of the rink, John leaned past Carol again and said to me, “We keep trying to get him to let us put him in for one of these salutes.” He shook his head and glared playfully at Nolan. “He won’t do it, though.”

Though Nolan’s mood had been light all evening, he didn’t look amused. He just pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“Not your thing?” I asked.

“No.” Nolan gestured at the crowd and the Jumbotron. “Definitely not my thing.”

“Doesn’t like to be the center of attention,” John said.

“You wouldn’t know it now,” Carol chimed in, “but our Nolan used to be the life of the party! He was even a bit of a class clown in junior high.”

“Always had good grades, though,” John added. “And then he just kind of turned into a wallflower.”

“Oh,” I said, curious but not sure if Nolan would appreciate me asking.

“Yeah, his senior year.” Carol shook her head sadly. “He really withdrew from everyone. Got kind of quiet and didn’t want to be social. Not with his friends, not even with his family. To tell you the truth, I thought he was getting into drugs, especially after he quit wrestling. But his grades held, so it must not have been that.”

My stomach knotted as I stole a glance at Nolan, who was staring steadfastly at the game. He had the expression of someone who was trying very hard to focus on what was ahead of him and ignore everything around him.Especiallyhis parents’ comments.

Following his lead, I gestured at the ice. “So, uh, you might have to fill me in on what’s going on. Because this is all…” I flailed a hand at the players, who were skating in all directionsand chasing the puck and each other all over the ice. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

That got the desired effect and broke through Nolan’s scowl. He chuckled and leaned toward me. “You see that little black thing on the ice? That’s—”

“Oh, shut up.” I elbowed him.

He cackled.

A moment later, the refs blew the whistle and play stopped, though I had no idea why. “Wait, what just happened?”

“Offside.”

“Which means…?”

He chuckled. “Okay, so the ice is divided into three zones…”

By the time he was finished explaining, I thought I kind of vaguely understood how offside worked. But then like five minutes later, Seattle scored and New York challenged it for offside.

“Okay, watch the screen.” Nolan leaned in close and gestured at the Jumbotron. “See the guy with the puck on his stick?”

I nodded as we watched the painfully slow replay.

“Right, so he crossed the blue line with the puck, but the other guy on his team crossed it before the puck cleared the line.”

I furrowed my brow. The replay started again, this time in even slower motion. Yeah, the other guy did make it over before the puck did… maybe? Because it was like the tip of the guy’s skate blade versus the very edge of the tiny, blurry puck.

“So… itisoffside?” I asked.

“Looks like it to me.” Nolan squinted at the screen. “Though fromthatangle…”

Another camera angle was showing, which didn’t reveal anything as far as I could see, but from the sudden booing and shouts of “it’s a good goal!” rising all around us, apparently people saw something.

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