Page 52 of Rookie Season
Soon, warmups are over, Coach Anderson has given us our pregame pep talk, and it’s time to kick ass like my sister told me to.
The first period is fast paced, as we’re well-matched against the Texas Spurs. They were in the Stanley Cup finals last season, and although they didn’t take the cup home, they’re a tough team to beat.
The Spurs’ captain is the first line right winger, same position as me, and won’t let me out of his sight. Am I flattered he thinks I’m such a threat? Maybe a little.
I’m able to fake him out and score a goal during the last minute of the first period. I hear him mutter something that sounds likedamned energetic young kids.
The second period is slower, with Penn getting a two-minute penalty for roughing—typical—and Fisher scoring a goal and doing an outlandish celebration around the arena, blowing kisses to the fans. I find Ally during the ordeal, and she’s laughing but rolling her eyes. Fisher playfully blows her a kiss, and she sticks her tongue out at him.
That’s my girl.
Wait, no. She'snotmy girl.
But knowing she didn’t blow Fisher a kiss back has me energized and ready for the third period.
After our final break, the third period begins, and the score is two to one. Too close of a score for me. Sandine gets a call for icing, and we face off on the defensive end. I’m chosen, along with the Spurs captain, for the face off and find myself looking past my opponent and meeting Ally’s gaze from behind the glass. She smiles, biting her bottom lip, then gives me a thumbs up.
I blink, reminding myself to stay focused. But this time, I want to focus so I can impress Ally. When the whistle blows, I grab the puck easily and shoot it straight through the goalie’s legs.
The crowd goes wild, and I skate past the glass where Ally and my sister are cheering. For a moment, I wonder what Ally would do if I blew her a kiss. Would she blow me one back?
The whole idea is absurd, something I would never do.
Plus, if I really wanted Ally’s attention, I’d wait until we were alone. I’d walk toward her slowly, watching her body language and making sure she wanted me closer. Then I'd close the distance, gripping her waist in my hands, and pulling her body against mine. Then I’d kiss her for real, my mouth on hers, teasing and tasting.
No, Ally wouldn’t get any silly air kisses from me.
Only real ones.
We win the game four to two and the guys are amped up in the locker room. Coach Anderson and Coach Slater stride inside, both smiling wide for once. Mitch whistles loudly and the room quiets down. “Great work out there tonight, boys. The Spurs were a tough team to beat, but you made it look like a piece of cake. Get some rest tonight; you earned it.” He nods, turning to exit the dressing room, but Fisher stops him.
“You see my goal, Coach?” He looks at my brother-in-law, eyes shiny with hero worship.
Coach Anderson smacks him hard on the shoulder. “Yep. Good job, Fishy.” He exits the room, and my teammates erupt in laughter.
“Fishy?” Fisher asks, his voice sounding strangled. “What the hell.”
“Suits you,” Coach Slater says with a chuckle as he, too, makes his way out of the room.
I shake my head, laughing to myself. “Don’t take it too hard; that’s what my nieces call you.”
Fisher’s head swivels toward me, his eyes wide. “Shut. Up. They talk about me?”
I sigh heavily. “Yeah, Fishy, they do.”
“This is the best news I’ve heard all day,” he says with an airy smile.
Penn looks offended. “What do they call me?”
I shrug. “I haven’t heard them call you anything man, sorry.”
He brings a hand to his chest in outrage. “But they’ve known me four years longer than Fishy.”
I snort a laugh and continue removing my pads, wanting to be quick in the showers so I can see Ally.
And my nieces and sister, of course. Yeah, just excited to see everyone.
I’m lying to myself, and I know it.
