Page 109 of The Puckable Playbook

She shrugs like everything is fine, but I’m sick to my stomach. She wouldn’t cheat. Not with him. Not with anyone.

Right?

Distrust flows through my veins like a long, winding river going downstream. Despite telling myself not to go there, it picks up speed.

She walks by me, lifting to her tiptoes to give me a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Don’t you have to go?”

My hands clench into fists. She doesn’t care that she’s going to be late to my game. She’s acting like it’s no big deal. This is what I get for ruining her announcement about her article, I guess. If she’s trying to get back at me, I understand what she felt now. I didn’t know she could be this petty, though. I apologized.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Have a great game. How did the meditating go? Do you think it will work?”

I force a smile to my face, kind of wishing now that I did actually meditate. Maybe then I’d be able to navigate aroundthese emotions bouncing through me. “Yeah,” I lie. “It went awesome.”

“That’s great!”

The grin she’s giving me looks authentic as hell. Either she’s getting better at lying or… Or I don’t know what.

She walks over and wraps her arms around me, laying her head on my chest. “Have the best game, Zaiah. You’re going to do great.”

Those few words quiet the fear inside me. I squeeze her, kissing the top of her forehead. I’m being ridiculous. My regret about how I treated her is being mirrored back at me, I think.

Honestly, I have no idea. I’m new to this introspection shit.

However, my gut is telling me I’m worried she’s doing something wrong because I did, and I’m scared I’ll never be able to make it right.

That sounds legit, though. Like I could’ve been a damn therapist. Maybe I should do that instead of prolonging this hockey heartache. Still no views on the YouTube video, but I dismiss those thoughts. They don’t serve me, or whatever the technical term is that my mindset coach uses. I can only control a few things, and whether anyone views my video isn’t one of them.

“See you there,” I tell her.

“I’ll be the one wearing blue.”

I smile at her, then grab my bag and head toward the practice rink to meet up with the team.

After a brief meeting with Coach, we load onto the bus. I try meditating again, putting on my headphones and closing my eyes. I visualize the game happening like my mindset coach instructed. How fast I want to skate. The feel of the stick in my hand. The scoring motion as the red light goes off when I sail more than one puck into the net. I make myself feel excited, ready, positive. We’re going to win.

It’s difficult to do when things haven’t gone as planned this morning. No parents. No girlfriend. Just me, myself, and I. Much like the crowd that’s going to be at the game.

Despite that last thought, I stay as positive as possible through our pregame routine. In warm-ups, my limbs buzz, and when I get my mind on the actual task at hand, anticipation builds.

However, the second I remember how abandoned I felt this morning, it all comes crashing down, and I have to build the confidence up again brick by brick.

They’ll be there. She’llbe here, sitting in the stands.

We go back in to dress and hear Coach’s pregame speech. He’s drawing out a couple plays on the whiteboard when the muted echoes of the announcer greets us. A few of us look at each other. I glance at the clock on the wall. He’s talking earlier than normal. In fact, he barely talks at all.

Coach shrugs. “They’re probably testing the system.”

He goes back to drawing circles and arrows, but then other noises begin, too. It starts as a low buzz and grows.

Coach claps his hands to bring our attention back to him. “I want you guys to go out there and play your asses off.” His chin is stone, solid. Tension radiates through his body. “Let’s get this win for us!”

I’ve been on this team for four years, and I don’t remember Coach saying that before. He usually has the same spiels. He might switch it up year to year, but this is something brand new.

“On three?”

We move close, putting our gloved hands into a circle. Coach yells, “One, two…”

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