Page 89 of The Puckable Playbook

“Lucky for you two…” Mom gets up, going to the back of the RV. She’s gone for a few seconds and comes out with two baggies. I’m about as excited as a meth addict on a downward spiral when she hands me a bag of fudge.

“Thanks, Mom.” I know I shouldn’t before a game, but one piece can’t hurt. I drop a chocolate square into my mouth, and the sweet, chocolatey fudge nearly dissolves. It reminds me of my grandmother. Sitting out on her porch as she sneaks me a piece while we look out onto her vast yard. “So good.”

“Mmm, that is good,” Len says. I peer over to find her chewing and nodding. “Very good.”

We sit and talk for a few more minutes until I give my dad the signal that we have to leave. They’ll meet us at the game later, but I have to attend a team meeting and then get ready.

My mom does a quick clean up while we buckle ourselves in. “Len, we’re going shopping if you want to come with us?”

“At the outlets nearby,” Iz clarifies.

“I wouldn’t take fashion advice from my sister,” I warn, trying to give her an out, or at least something she could grip onto if she didn’t want to spend the day with my family.

Instead, Len smiles. “Well, I should be working on something, but that sounds like fun.”

My mom claps her hand once and then moves to sit and buckle herself in. “Excellent. We’ll only drop Isaiah off, then.” To my father, she yells out, “One for the bus stop!”

“Who’s outnumbered now?” he shouts back.

I interlace my fingers with Len’s, surprised she wants to go with them. She seems content, though, she and Izzy already talking about what they’re shopping for. Izzy’s telling her she needs a new pair of shoes and who knows what else.

Soon, Dad comes to a stop in front of Knightley, and I turn to give Len a kiss on the cheek. “See you there?”

She pulls at her shirt with my cartoon face on it. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

I wave to everyone else. “See you in a few!”

Dad meets me at the stairs, patting my back. “Good luck tonight. Remember, unicorn sparkling poop pucks, play well.”

“You got it, Dad.”

He locks the door behind me, and I turn to wave as he guides the big boat away from the curb. No one pays attention to me. With a shrug, I jog up the steps and head to our suite. It’s quiet without Len. The absence of her presence hangs heavy while I throw my stuff into my gear bag and leave for the Warner arena.

This past week while Len was working on her super-secret article, I watched tape of our upcoming opponents. They’re going to be a tough team to beat, but I’m jazzed about the game.

Halfway to the practice rink, I spot Adam, and we slap hands. “Haven’t seen you around.”

“Yeah, I locked shit down with Len.”

“I knew it. Dude,” he smiles, “I like her. How have things been?”

“Really good, actually. She’s in the Swaggin’ Wagon with the fam.”

“The Swaggin’ Wagon!”

I laugh, knowing he’d appreciate that. My teammates dubbed the RV with that moniker, and I’m pretty sure my dad secretly loves it. “You’re not going to believe the shirts they have on today.” When he looks at me expectantly, I shake my head. “You’ll have to wait. You need to see it in person.”

“How’s your family so cool?”

“Luck of the draw.”

We talk a bit more, but we’re silenced when we walk into the practice rink and are greeted by the coaches and our teammates’ loud banter.

Coach gives us a rundown lasting almost an hour, and then we’re rushed to the bus for our skate time at the city arena. After practice drills, we’re led into the home locker room that’s not even ours, and today, it hits different. I stare at the other players’ names on the cubbies, shaking my head. I’m better than this. Most guys on my team are better than this, and it pisses me off all over again that Warner hockey is a joke.

Before I can go down the rabbit hole, the PA system turns on, and the bass echoes even in here. Every game, the annoying noise is a subtle reminder of the pregame ticking down.

Coach stands from a lone metal folding chair. “It’s almost go time.”

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