Page 105 of Snowballed

“Simple chemistry, Goody. The cold water is going to freeze that alcohol right out of my system.”

Briggs shakes his head. “You mean biology, and I don’t think it works like that.”

The group two ahead of us goes in. Nobody stays in long, and there’s a lot of loud screaming.

It looks pretty fucking cold. My balls try to retreat into my body.

We shed our coats and get ready. I look for Wags. He’s standing by a railing, and he raises my phone and gives me a thumbs up. Hunts is beside him, also filming for some team PR thing.

There’s a guy with a megaphone who announces all the teams. “Our next group is participating for the first time. Welcome the boys from the Burlington Bulls hockey team! Great to see you out here, and good luck against Providence tonight!”

There are some fans in the crowd who hoot and cheer us on. Or maybe they’re just the neighborhood sadists.

We drape our arms over each other’s shoulders.

“Everybody ready?” I ask.

“On three,” Meysy says. “One, two, three!”

“Go Bulls,” we scream and run in a line together. As our feet hit the water, it’s so cold I can hardly register the burning sensation as my limbs numb. Almost in unison, we all screamfuck.But we plow on, diving in to get totally wet and then rushing back to the shore.

“I am reborn like the phoenix,” yells Meysy. The cold water has had zero effect on the alcohol in his system. But he’s right. I feel refreshed and energized. Maybe it’s overcoming fear of the freezing lake. Maybe it’s doing something with the support of my team. Maybe it’s plain old insanity.

“I feel good,” Briggs sounds shocked.

“Yeah, me too.”

“It’s like a warm bath,” J.D. lies to the next people waiting to go in.

We pull on our coats and warm, dry boots. We’re all happy and excited.

“I always thought people who did these things were nuts,” Vonne says. “But I liked it. I’d do it again.”

We pile into a couple of cars and head to the hockey house. Zoe came through on her promise to make Derek a pizza feast and delivered the meal yesterday. I put them into the oven to bake while we take turns showering and warming up.

“I still can’t get over how good I feel,” Briggs repeats. “That was insane.”

“And we raised three bills for the Special Olympics,” I point out.

“I might do it next year,” one of the sophomore players says.

Of course, there’s not going to be a next year for me. I’m going to miss all this hockey team camaraderie, so I soak it in while I can.

“This pizza is so good,” Johansson says. “Where did you get it?”

“My sister made it,” Meysy says.

“All her cooking is this good,” I brag.

Johansson swears. “Lucky bastards. If I had known she had skills like this, I would have asked her out ages ago.”

Wags snorts. “Like you would have had a chance once Malibu Ken got here.”

I toss a solo cup at him, which he catches one-handed.

“Where’s that coordination when it comes to scoring goals?” I wonder.

“Oh, that’s funny,” he says.

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