Page 180 of Until We Burn
The pressure mounts with every shot the Vipers aim at our net. The puck arcs behind the goal line. Our right winger steals it back and passes it towards me. I take off down center ice.
“Hey!”
I keep the puck close as the Vipers’ defenseman and left winger corner me front and back.
Their stench nearly makes me vomit. “Since you’re a mutt, I bet your girl doesn’t mind taking it from the back, huh?”
“Keep her out of your mouth,” I snap.
“You can’t do shit,” their defenseman seethes, “this is the last game you’re ever gonna play because you’re nothing. The NHL is better off without trash like you.”
I catch Rowan lurking over his shoulder.
“We’ll see about that,” I grind out.
I shoot the puck between the defenseman’s legs and push past him. Rowan lunges for the puck.
“Shit!”
Simon shoves him aside and intercepts the pass, running off with the puck. He surges closer and closer to our net. I panic at the empty space in front of him.
No.
After everything Simon has ripped away from me, my last win with the boys won’t be one of them.
I grit my teeth. My legs burn as I charge faster towards Simon. I come up behind him and strike him from the back. He stumbles, twisting down to the ice.
“You’re gonna fucking pay for that!” He screeches at his teammates, “Get off your asses and get him!”
The Vipers unleash their dirtiest hits on me. The Griffins give it their all to defend me and win this game.
Another defenseman tries to steal the puck from me. I dart around and make a quick pass to Luke.
A Viper swings their elbow out. Luke ducks. He drags the puck back in. He shoots the puck towards our right winger who snaps it back to me the second he sees me reach center ice.
I round towards the Vipers’ net. My heart pounds hard under my chest when I hurtle towards the blue line, veering around to evade their defense.
Fists pound the plexiglass. People scream my name.
But all I hear is Uncle Manu.
We made no mistake when we gave you your Tahitian name: Te Aito.
The Champion.
That’s who you are. That’s who you’ve always been.
I veer towards the dot like he taught me. My stick swings back and I slap shoot the puck into the net.
It flies in.
Shock paralyzes me. The world slows down, blurring and dulling into faded noise and blurry colors.
“The DHU Griffins are the 2025 National Champions!”
The goal horn blows over and over, riling up the screams ripping out across the stadium.
Helmets fly off. Hockey sticks are flung up in the air. I stumble on my skates as the boys leap onto me and clobber me into a group hug.
