Page 28 of Snowballed

“Better sacrifice a goat before the next game,” I suggest.

“How can you even say that? You’re one sick puppy.” She scowls at me.

“Zee, I’ll trade partners with you,” Helen offers. Zee must be Zoe’s hockey nickname.

“I already asked Coach Cray, and no switches,” replies Zoe.

“Ouch,” I say. “I don’t understand why you don’t want to play with the best d-man on the ice.”

“I can’t, since Seb Hunter is on the other team,” she says.

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen me play yet.”

Zoe tries to shove me, but I catch her wrist first.

“Let’s save all this energy for the ice,” Coach Garfunkle urges us.

When we skate out for our first shift, my worst suspicions are confirmed. Zoe is way too hesitant in our zone. She’s an easy target for a fast-skating opponent, and her brother is the first to jump in and try to strip the puck off her.

“Zee, man on. Pass it here,” I call from beside the net, but she ignores me and loses the puck. I have to scramble to keep Meysy from getting a good scoring opportunity. Now I’m pissed.

“You ignored me,” I say when we get back to the bench.

She ignores me further, but finally mutterssorry.

“Look, we don’t really know each other yet, but I fucking hate losing. So, when I talk to you, how about doing what I say?”

“You’re not the boss of me.” She sounds like a four-year-old.

“No, I’m not. But when we’re playing together for the first and only time, someone needs to take charge, and in this case it’s me. It’s nothing personal,” I add.

She doesn’t answer me, and I have no idea if she’s going to listen or not.

The next shift, we’re out for a face-off in our own zone. The puck gets tied up on the face-off and finally squirts out on Zoe’s side.

“Zee,” I call out. She can set me free with a pass, but she doesn’t. This time, it’s J.D. who takes the puck off her, and he makes no mistake, firing one past Briggs. We do the skate of shame back to the bench.

Coach Cray is not happy. “Goodwin, stay deep until the puck is out. Meyers, you gotta move the puck faster.” Zoe flushes red.

I don’t say anything. I’ll keep on talking, but it’s up to Zoe if she’s going to pay attention.

Next shift, she recovers the puck on a long shoot-in. “Behind you,” I call out.

Then, a miracle. She passes it back to me. I skate behind the net, picking up speed as I leave the zone. I’ve got a forward mirroring me on the other side, and I head straight for the net. A female defender comes at me with a slash, but I slide the puck past her, and our forward rifles a shot through the Team Green goalie.

There is a sizeable crowd here, and they come out of their seats for that goal.

The female forward who scored hugs me. “Goody, what a pass. You’re as advertised.”

“Do we know each other?” I barely know all the guys on my team, but everyone here knows me already.

“I know your sister. We met at national training camp. She told me you were coming here. I’m Aria Olsson.” Aria is by far the best forward on the women’s team, and it’s not a huge surprise that she’s national team level.

Then Team Green comes back with a goal, but luckily, I’m not on the ice for this one.

After the first period, we’re down 2-1, and Coach Cray gives us a little pep talk in the room. Helen leans over and starts chatting about a party after the game. I don’t listen. When I play, I’m in the zone, even for an exhibition game.

“We’re the top pairing, so we better get ready for some minutes,” I tell Zoe on the bench.

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