Page 36 of My Brother's Enemy
He pulled his helmet off, his face flushed and sweaty. His frustration was evident. “I suck. That’s what’s going on. What else do you want me to say?” He glanced back when a boo rosefrom the crowd. Bruge was on the ice, and Tyler had stayed. They were both centers. That’d be interesting.
I focused on him. “Look. Stop it. This is my job. Let me in your head. I know you may not trust me but give me a chance. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know! Coaches got me all fucked up. They told me to shoot more on goal, but that I didn’t have to. They said I could if I wanted, but I didn’t need to. They just keep repeating the same shit, and I don’t know what’s going on. Am I getting traded? My contract is coming up for renegotiation, so I’m just spinning. It ain’t something you can do anything about, doc.”
Doc. I cringed at the nickname.
“No, Sunny. They—this is partly my fault.”
He eyed me dubiously, toying with his mouthguard. “How’s it your fault?”
“It was my idea, but I’m not to blame for the execution.”
He winced.
“Listen, with my job, sometimes there are ways around people—techniques and such—but sometimes just straight-up truth yields the best result. We had a meeting earlier in the week, and I told them I think you have hidden potential.”
“The fuck?”
Thud!
The crowd went wild. I glanced back to find Bruge had slammed one of the opponents into the glass. They were circling now, chirping at each other. The opponent’s gloves dropped. Bruge was tugging off his gloves. The cheers were deafening.
I moved closer to Sunny, speaking so he could hear me. “You match whoever your center is. You hold back on goals, making an opening for your center.”
“That’s my job.”
“No. Your job is to bring up the left side and work with your line. That’s it. I want you to stop holding back so your centercan shine. My guess is that someone told you your job was to make openings for them. But you’re first line with Tyler fucking Griffin. Trust me. If you start shooting goals and making them, Griff will match you. He’ll be ecstatic about the change.”
His eyebrows furrowed, still flipping his mouthpiece in his mouth. He caught it between his teeth and shifted it to the side. “You’re saying I hold back, but that’s insane. No hockey player holds back. We all want to win.”
I shrugged. “And yet you are. And yet it happens. In football, there are different roles. A running back can’t be the quarterback. But basketball and hockey aren’t like that. All of you can make goals, and if you’re able to match Bruge and now match Griffin, that tells me you haven’t been pushing yourself.” I slapped his chest. “Push yourself. Surprise me. Get the fuck out of your head and start playing hockey the way you did when you were five.”
“What?” He grinned. “Asking for snack break?”
“You know what I mean. Youplayed. You had fun. No one could tell you what to do because you were going to play and you were going to score. Right?”
He got quiet, then finally he gave me a nod. “Yeah. I got it.”
“Make it a game. Try to outshoot Griffin. See if he catches on.”
He smirked. “He’s going to love that.”
“Yeah. He will.”
He nodded again, and one of the coaches yelled his name. He returned to the bench where Coach Hines bent down to have a word with him. Sunny listened, and then it was time for their line again. He went with them this time.
Coach Hines straightened, meeting my gaze, his jaw firming before he turned back to the ice.
I moved closer to the bench but stayed out of the way. On the ice, there was suddenly an opening. One of the defensemen shotthe puck forward, and Tyler took off to meet it, but his stick was still on the ice behind him. He rushed by the bench, grabbing the stick Benny held out for him, and he was off, taking the puck to the goal.
And Sunny was there. He was with him.
The opposing team’s two defensemen closed in, going to block Tyler, except he circled the net. He didn’t have a shot, so he passed to Sunny. One held back, considering Sunny, but I could tell they didn’t think he’d shoot. They expected him to pass back to Tyler, who was trying to cut close again to the goal.
Jesse Ray was there by now, along with another defender. When Sunny pretended to pass to Ray, they fell for it. The goalie too. Sunny shot on goal instead, and he hit net.Goal!The red lights went off, and the crowd was on their feet again.
That was goal one.
