Page 111 of The Puckable Playbook

Throughout the game, more and more people fill the arena. Unbelievably, nearly all of the lower level is sold out, people sitting and cheering.

I’m on and off the rink with my line, trying not to listen to the chatter because I understand how important this game is. This single game could change the direction of Warner Bulldog hockey. If we win, if people like watching us, this could be our norm.

So far, we’re completely wasting our opponent, seven to nothing. I have more than one goal. Two, I think. Maybe three. Truthfully, the game has been a haze.

I keep peering up, trying to spot Len, but she’s still not in her seat. Sweat dots my forehead. I’m handed a bottle, and I swallow it down, handing it back over my head, wondering where she is. I thought she’d be here by now. It’s the third period. She said late, not missing the whole damn thing.

Someone leans behind me and says, “Hey, I texted my girlfriend to see what was up. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Tell anyone what?”

“About the article your girlfriend wrote.”

I turn, finding one of the assistant coaches staring back at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Dude, it blew up.” He turns his body to block out Coach, then shows me his phone. “People everywhere are reposting it.”

I peer at the screen, expecting to see the headline I read a few days ago—the one she’s publishing in the magazine—but that’s not it at all. He’s showing me the front page of today’s Warner University paper. “If You’re Not a Hockey Fan, You Need to Be” by Lenore Robertson.

I nearly pick the phone right out of his hand, but Coach shouts my name.

“You’re shitting me,” I say to him, and the assistant lifts his shoulders.

She did this.

I jump over the barrier and jump back onto the ice. I’m dying to look up into the stands to search for her again, but I keep my head in the game, stealing the puck and getting a breakaway. The opposing goalie is the only thing in the way of my puck and the net, and I deke him out, sailing one into the corner below the crossbar.

I throw my hands in the air, and the roar of the crowd coupled with the sirens gets my blood pumping. My teammates skate over to celebrate with me, and then I sit back down on the bench.

With only a few minutes left, Coach calls for third string so we don’t annihilate the team. Plus, he probably wants the lower classmen to experience this. Keep them sticking around year after year.

Again, I look up to where my parents are. Iz is staring at me, and she waves. I smile at her, but Coach would have my ass if he thinks I’m not paying attention to the game, so I don’t wave back. I certainly don’t ask where Len is, even though I’m dyingto know. I also need to get my hands on that article. Front page and everything.

Our third string scores again, so by the time the game ends, it’s nine to zero. Not a single person has left their seats when the final buzzer sounds. We skate onto the ice to shake our opponents’ hands, and then we celebrate a little, raising our sticks in the air.

This is… Wow.

I slowly skate off the ice, peering around and taking the cheering crowd in. What a game. What a moment to remember. This is what life for me could be.

We’re all hyped as we walk down the tunnel. Adam slaps my back. “Holy shit, dude. You got a hat trick! You’ll be the talk of campus.”

“I just want any talk,” I joke.

The rest of my teammates laugh. Replays of the game begin immediately, players recounting their scores. We turn the last corner to head into the locker room, and a body runs up to me, throwing its arms around me.

I squeeze it back. For a split second, excitement builds. Len saw the game. I’m so—

But then it’s all wrong. The hair color. The height. The squeak that’s coming out of her voice. Plus, I’m not sure Len would throw herself at me in front of all my teammates. When I peel the person off me, my heart sinks.

It’s Trish.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Len

My heart thunders.After bribing a security guard with charm I don’t actually possess, I walk-run my way through the arena tunnels.

I wait in the area where they all converge until I see him turn the corner. Around him, his teammates laugh and smile. The excitement on their faces makes me want to jump right out of my shoes.

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