Page 7 of Drop the Gloves
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Evan didn’t getan answer about lines until the pre-season started a few weeks later.
After training camp, the rest of the team started official practices.Evan knew the lines in practice didn’t necessarily mean anything—especially when there were ten players there competing for four spots—so he tried not to read too much into things.Yeah, he had to play on a line with Barczyk, but he also played on lines with younger guys like Dalton, Winchester, and Maxwell, as well as experienced players like Antonov, Woodward, and Vassiliev.Too much was up in the air, so he didn’t worry about what it all ‘meant.’
The worst part was the mini-games and scrimmages, where he had to goagainstBarczyk.He tried not to cringe whenever they were fighting for the puck or if Barczyk was barreling down towards him.He shouldn’t have to worry; this was a practice.No one wentthathard, and Barczyk was more than half a foot shorter than him.It was already a fluke he’d hurt Evan in the first place.
“Get over it,” Evan muttered under his breath.He was standing on the goal line to the right of the net, with Barczyk on the left.Once Coach Jack blew the whistle, they’d be racing down the ice for a puck to bring in and shoot on their backup goalie, Reese.“Get over it.You skate fast enough, and it won’t even matter.”
He was right.
The whistle blew, and he was off.He’d learned a long time ago never to go 100% during practices—that was how players got injured or you burnt yourself out too early in the season—but he always liked to be able to.He liked to pull out that little bit of extra hustle or muscle as necessary, in case he needed to prove a point or impress the coaches.
He did that now, sprinting faster than he had outside a game since the last time scouts were looking at him.He got to the puck first, going so fast he nearly lost his balance on the sharp turn to head back to the net.He passed Barczyk, who hadn’t even reached the pylon where he could turn around, and now focused on coming in on Reese.
Reese pushed out of the crease, blocker and glove up.
Evan hated one-on-ones with goalies.They were all so talented and could read him like an open book.It’s why he usually just shot and got it over with, because they always made the save, anyway.But he had some time with Barczyk so far behind, so he faked left before pulling back to the right and trying for the back door.He justbarelystuffed it in before Reese got back over.
“Nice hustle, Abernathy!”Coach Jack said, and there was some applause from the rest of the team.“Try that in a game, why don’t you?”Then he blew the whistle for the next pair.
Evan preened at the praise as he got back in line.A few of the guys patted his shoulder and said things like, “Nice one, kid” or “Heckuva move there at the end, kid.”
Kid.Always kid.He supposed as nicknames went, it wasn’t terrible, but hereallywanted to be seen as one of the guys.Not one of the ‘young’ guys they always felt the need to babysit when they went out as a team.Hopefully, being old enough to drink now would help him look like an actual adult this season.
He’d completely forgotten about Barczyk until he skated up behind Evan.
“You've got wheels on you,” he said.He was looking straight up to meet Evan’s eye, but he exuded so much confidence Evan felt like he was the shorter one.“Not everyone as big as you can move that fast.”
Evan noted both the praise and the lack of ‘kid.’He wasn’t so sure he liked the way his heart fluttered in response.Didn’t he hate this guy?He didn’twantBarczyk to like him.
Though it was kind of satisfying.
It’s about the respect,he decided.Thatcounted.
“Thanks,” he eventually said.Then, because he was too stupidly polite to stop there, he added, “You’ve been looking pretty good out there, too.”
A roguish smile spread across Barczyk’s face.It made him look young, like a teenager up to no good.“Ihavebeen looking pretty.”
Evan flushed, his shoulders tensing up almost all the way to his ears in embarrassment.“I didn’t—that’s not?—”
“I’m just fucking with you.”Barczyk slapped his stick against Evan’s shinguard.“I am pretty, but I wasn’t fishing for compliments.How come I never noticed you before?I feel like a big guy who can move like that would’ve been someone I was forced to fight.”
And instantly, the small gains Barczyk had made in Evan’s good opinion were lost.
“I don’t know,” he said coldly.“I played you plenty of times when you were on the Gliders.”Then he turned away before he could see Barczyk’s reaction.
* * *
The Riveters’ first pre-season game was less than a week away, and the coaches had finally seen enough that they were put out lines.When his phone pinged with the email—complete with preliminary roster, practice schedule, and travel info—Evan’s eyes immediately went to the third and fourth lines.He dreaded it a little, mostly because he wondered which of his friends still had a shot of making the team this season and who would be sent down to the AHL.
There was a lot of young talent on the farm team, but not all of them were ready to make the leap to the NHL.Evan felt for them—he’d been in the same position only a few years ago, starting his first season in the AHL after getting some chances in the pre-season, and only moving up to the NHL after the trade deadline had made room for him—but he wasn’t surprised when he saw the names.Walker, Stevens, and Maxwell were still in the mix for the forwards, and O’Brien, Leonard, and Pope for defense.There were other names, guys Evan didn’t know as well, and he was so distracted trying to place them that he only glanced at the second line by chance.
Woodward - Abernathy - Barczyk.
Son of a bitch.
It made sense, unfortunately.The top line wouldn’t see play for a while, which gave him and some other guys the opportunity to push up.Evan’s old linemates had both retired, so of course he’d see some new faces.And there was one very competent fresh face that would work well in that right wing spot.
