Page 68 of Hooked
I lined up on the faceoff against Cunningham.
“Sorry I pissed you off last time with that country song, Rocky,” he said. “Funny, you know? I wasn't eventhinkingof Vanessa. But now I see how that might have set you off. ”
I didn't even look at him. “Sure thing, bud.”
“Really!”
The ref threw the puck down. Cunningham tied my stick up and I lost the draw. The Bears went on the attack and I had to skate back into the zone to catch up on defense.
Cunningham, with his stick hooked around my torso, dragged behind me like a parachute. I shouted at the ref as I chugged up ice, tugging Cunningham's sorry corpse like a freight train.
“You wanna call this ref? Fucker's water-skiing behind me!”
The ref glanced at us and gave a careless shrug.
Oh, goddamn these refs, they're swallowing their whistles again.
“Fuckin' worthless zebra!” I yelled at him.
Don't retaliate, don't retaliate,I had to repeat to myself.
But since I was late to get back into the defensive zone, the Bears found an opening in the center. A quick pass into the slot, a one-timer, and the puck sailed over Leif's blocker and into the net. Bears took the lead 2-0, and our playoff hopes were looking grim.
Cunningham dropped his stick from my waist and joined the celebration with his teammates. I went and argued with the ref.
“Yousawhim hooking me. What more do you want?” I shouted. “What's it gonna take for you guys to call a penalty on him?”
“Keep yelling at me, Rockwell, andyou'llget two minutes for unsportsmanlike conduct,” the ref answered.
Steaming, I glided back to the bench.
And Cunningham caught up and skated by my side.
“Pst. Hey Rocky.”
I didn't reply.
“Heard about you and that ice girl. What's her name again? Honesty? Weird name but hey, whatever, I can't wait to see those pics! Man, they sound hot—”
I threw my gloves down and grabbed him by the collar of his jersey. “The fuck are you talking about?”
Cunningham went fullrag doll: his arms shot into the air and flailed, his head whipped back like he'd been shot by a sniper, and his body fell limp to the ice.
I let him drop and raised my hands into the air innocently. But the ref blew his whistle and grabbed me by the arm.
“Alright, Rockwell, I warned you. Two minutes for roughing.”
“Are you fuckingkidding me?” I yelled, my voice booming across the ice.
“Keep it up and I'll make it four minutes!”
The ref stuffed me into the penalty box, and Cunningham skated by laughing his ass off.
“Oh, oh shit,” he said, gasping for air. “That's too rich. I almost feel bad for you. Look the pics up yourself though, Rocky. I hear they're on some site calledGutterSports.”
The ref pushed Cunningham away, warning him, “That's enough from you, too.”
I turned to the score-keeper in the box as he typed numbers into his laptop. “Excuse me, sir. You got internet on that thing?”
