Page 26 of Penalty Zone

Taking a deep breath, I focus on clearing my mind. But it won’t clear. I can only see Liska’s face twisted in anger and feel my confidence slipping.

If Liska can’t handle the defender shielding him, I won’t do any better.

I’ll do worse.

That thinking won’t help the team.

That’s my job—help the team.

I can’t fail them.

The well-worn ice from the game slips under my skates, and the crowd cheers. My hand raises in appreciation, knowing they’ll turn if I don’t play well.

Ace, our fearless captain, bangs my helmet as I go by and says, “We got your back, Benz.”

I hit my stick against the defender’s and mentally speak to my pipes. They’re a goalie’s best friend, and I’ll take all the help they can give me.

The bright lights are muted by my visor, and the crowd quiets as the ref gets in position to drop the puck. Drake crouches low and jumps into action, passing to Ace in a fluid motion so fast their center doesn’t react in time.

We have several chances to score, but the puck doesn’t find the back of the net. Too soon they’re on my half of the ice, and I’m not centered enough to trust my instincts. Their right wing fakes right but shoots left, and I fall for it.

They score, and it’s because I predicted wrong.

Coach calls a timeout and motions me over.

The goalie coach slaps my shoulder. “Shake it off. You’ll get it next time.”

Leo pulls me into his space so his head is half under my tipped-back helmet. His deft hand works its way between my pads to find the bare skin of my neck.

“What do you need?” he asks, low and urgent. His fingers skate over my racing pulse, making it hard to answer. “You’re not in game mode. How can I help you get there?”

That snaps me out of my muddled thoughts. “Calm and focus,” I reply and shut my eyes.

The clear pond comes into view in my mind’s eye, and I concentrate to make the image sharper. I visualize my negative thoughts as toxins, washing them away in the cleansing water.

I hum and Leo hums along with me, so the vibration bounces between us, increasing in strength and doubling my energy and clarity. Once again, Leo circumvents my downward spiral.

The timeout is about to end, and my hands gripping his forearms drop as he steps away.

“Wait.” Leo grabs a water bottle. “Watch.” He squirts the water in the air, a goalie trick to reset your mind. “Again, this time, watch one drop.”

I do as he asks because it engages my eye-tracking ability.

“Great job. Trust yourself.” Leo smiles, and I’m ready for the game. All my negative thoughts are left on the bench.

They try the exact same play they scored on, but I’m ready for the fake and the puck lands in my glove. I’m in tune with their movements and can predict their plays and track the puck with precision.

The crowd cheers wildly every time I make a save. My confidence grows exponentially, and I have the same giddy feeling I got last season when I played in Liska’s absence. I will be the Enforcers’ starting goalie. It’s inevitable.

This is what I was born to do. The ice talks to me and tells me how the puck will slide, the pipes deflect the puck every chance they get, and I’m unstoppable.

At the end of the game, the team surrounds me. Hands smack congratulations on my helmet, back, shoulders, and jersey. No part of my upper torso is left untouched by their gratitude.

By the bench, Mason wraps me in a hug. “Dude, you played out of your mind. So many shots should have gone in, but it’s like there was a spell on the goal repelling them.”

I laugh, not because it’s ridiculous, but because it feels true.

Leo waits for me outside the locker room with a beaming smile. “I’m proud of you. It’s hard to redirect your mind after getting scored on. I’m impressed with how fast you dropped to save the quick shot between your legs. He usually shoots over your left shoulder, and even I wouldn’t have saved that goal.” His hand rests on my upper arm.

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