Page 27 of Snowballed

Zoe maintains her reputation as Vermont’s safest driver by never exceeding the speed limit on the way to our preseason scrimmage. My new old car is still at the mechanic, so I won’t have it back until tomorrow.

“Finally,” I say as we pull into the arena parking lot.

“Keep your pants on. Are you ready for the big game?” Zoe asks as we take our duffels out of the trunk.

“What big game? I thought we were just having a scrimmage.” Tonight’s event is mixed squads with the men’s and women’s teams together. I didn’t think it was a real game.

Zoe leads the way towards the rink. “It’s a big deal. There’ll be a decent crowd out, maybe even a sellout.”

“Fans and tickets? For a preseason scrimmage? Are you serious?” We got decent crowds in Arizona, but never for a preseason game. People want the real thing.

“Yes. There’s a nominal ticket fee, and all the proceeds are going to a Burlington food bank charity. Hockey is huge here. The men’s games always sell out.”

“But not the women’s?” I ask.

Zoe glares at me like I’m responsible for their lack of ticket sales. “It’s ridiculous. We’re the defending national champions, so we should be getting bigger crowds than you.”

I hear the same complaints from my sister all the time. Women’s hockey doesn’t get the same respect as men’s.

“Well, the men’s game is more exciting. More like real hockey.” I’m glad Chi can’t hear me because she would crush me like a bug, but baiting Zoe is my new favorite hobby.

“What part of ‘national champions’ did you not understand? Anyone who has watched women’s college hockey for more than five minutes knows exactly how exciting it can be,” she growls.

I hold the door open for Zoe, and she sticks her tongue out at me.

“I can open my own doors.” She marches through and leads me to a bulletin board. “Tonight’s teams are posted here.”

I’m on Team White, which is coached by Hillary Cray. I look over the roster. It’s pretty evenly split talent wise on our side. I don’t really know anyone on the women’s team, except for—

“Darn in a barn, we’re together,” Zoe says. That’s what passes for swearing with Cracky.

“Lucky you. You’ll get a close-up view of how good I really am,” I say.

“If ego counts for anything, you must play like Gretzky.”

“He’s kind of old though. I think I’m more of a Quinn Hughes,” I say.

“The only thing you two have in common is that you’re both short,” Zoe zings back.

I grin. I like her much better since she’s dropped the niceness.

We change in our regular rooms, but then join our new squads. I sit with the defense. Helen greets me, and Zoe pretends I’m invisible.

Coach Cray is a no-nonsense woman who seems determined to win. I suspect she and Coach Keller have a bet going. Her assistant is Coach Garfunkle. Coach Cray outlines the special rules which include no bodychecking.

“Some of those chicks are pretty tough,” mutters Justin Murphy, another defenseman.

“Doesn’t mean we get to destroy them,” I say.

“You might feel differently after one of them slashes you across the back of the legs. And chicks never get called for that shit.”

Since Murph is on my team tonight, I’m not going to bother arguing. I play road hockey against my sister, and she is without a doubt the world’s dirtiest player. But a guy doesn’t use his strength against women. Besides, I’d rather win. And on a mixed team, the best way is to use skill and speed rather than get tied up in retaliatory plays.

Coach G calls out the D pairings. Apparently, I can’t escape Zoe. She looks like she can’t believe her bad luck.

When it’s go time, we slide onto the bench beside each other.

“What have I done to deserve this?” Zoe says.

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