Page 172 of Facing Off
“Together,” the Wings yell.
“It’s time,” says Coach Forrester. “Leave it all on the ice, boys!”
As I lead my team onto the ice, my mind goes to Sonya. Her audition is tomorrow, so I know she can’t be here tonight, but even without her watching, I’ll be playing differently. She’s inside me, influencing me. I’m so proud of her dedication to ballet, and can’t help but be inspired and fueled harder because of it.
The Wings race across the rink and start warming up.
Ten minutes later, I tell Lokhov, “Go do your thing.”
He always skates over to Kavi, and they have a quiet moment together before the game starts.
Without a word, he heads in that direction.
Quinn comes and taps me on the shoulder. “You should go over, too.” He’s waving at someone. “Look.”
Kavi is there, wearing his jersey. I also wave at her, and then beside her is?—
Almost tripping, I skate to her, awestruck.
“You’re here?”
Sonya nods. “I couldn’t be anywhere else.”
But her audition is tomorrow, and these are the last few hours she could be practicing for it. It’s the biggest performance in her career, her chance to make history and get chosen as a principal dancer. I didn’t expect Sonya here. I would’ve understood that she couldn’t make it, but the fact that she is?
My heart thumps against my ribs. No matter what happens on the ice, I’m going to treasure this moment for the rest of my life.
Beside us, Lokhov and Kavi are doing their pre-game ritual. Pressing and matching their palms against the glass for good luck.
I tentatively lift my palm up, to press it on the glass in front of Sonya. A little shyly, wondering if she’ll want to do this, too.
She shakes her head. “Wait.”
Before I can ask why, she takes her jacket off.
“Holy shit,” says Kavi, whipping her head to stare.
My jaw drops open.Holy shitis right.
A tsunami of emotion crashes into me. Sonya doesn’t wear anything but black. And she’s never worn a hockey jersey in her life, but here she is, wearing mine. The number three is proudly displayed on her arm.
My grumpy, stubborn ballerina does a slow spin for me. So I can read my name spread across her back. Then she arches an eyebrow, waiting.
I practically crash myself into the boards, and my stick drops to the ground. That’s because I need two hands for this. It’s hard to do wearing thick hockey gloves, but I shape them into a heart and rattle it against the glass.
“Are you going to do it back to him?” Kavi asks, teasing Sonya.
“She doesn’t have to! She’s wearing my jersey!”
Sonya covers her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking softly. I know she’s laughing.
I blow her a kiss.
She peeks between her fingers and catches it, quickly and sneakily bringing it down to her own heart.
“I wish I could just…” I make a show of trying to climb up the glass and she huffs out a laugh. Kavi joins in, too, as Lokhov grabs my shoulder and says, “Come on. The game’s starting.”
It is. Referees are blowing their whistles. I can’t keep standing there. Blowing my ballerina more rapid kisses, I skate to position, grinning and laughing up a storm.
