Page 134 of ICED
He throws the first punch. Mistake.
I take it. Absorb it like breath. Then I hit back. Hard. Left, right, another left. Blood at his lip now. We spin, fists flying, jerseys stretched. I plant my feet and drop him with a clean uppercut.
The ref dives in and the crowd’s electric. I raise a fist toward our bench, toward the glass.
Lila’s waving her foam hand like mad. Maya has one hand over her mouth, but she’s smiling with relief, pride, or maybe something else.
The penalty box smells like sweat and rubber. I sit, helmet off, chest heaving. The adrenaline crashes in waves, but I watch the ice, even from behind plexi. Coach doesn’t look mad. Jonno nods once in my direction.
Murphy scores the go-ahead goal while I’m still in the box. Ollie assists. Our bench goes wild.
By the time I’m back on the ice, we’re up by one, five minutes to go. The other team’s gone quiet. We’ve taken control. We’reusagain.
I skate like my bones remember why we do this. Every stride is power. Every pass is clean. When I check a guy into the boards, the whole rink vibrates. With seconds to go Dylan scores again and the stadium erupts.
Final buzzer. 4-2. Raptors win.
I lift my stick and skate toward our end. The guys pile in, all yells and back slaps. Jonno squeezes my shoulder. “That was for the team. Good fight.”
But I’m already looking toward the stands.
Maya’s still there with Lila on her hip, little foam finger waving like mad. I skate to the glass, press a gloved hand against it. Lila does the same. Her tiny palm pressed to mine through the plexi.
My throat aches.
Maya mouths, “We’re proud of you.”
I nod because I can’t quite speak yet.
Later, in the tunnel, I pull off my gear with shaking hands. Dylan claps me on the back. Murphy hands me a protein bar.
“Might make you angrier next time,” he says. “You fight better hungry.”
I chuckle. “Thanks, mate.”
Ollie grins as he passes. “Lila said you looked like a superhero.”
That hits me harder than any punch tonight.
After the post-game press and a quick shower, I find them in the hallway. Maya in that same hoodie, arms around Lila, who’s half-asleep.
“Tough game,” she says.
“Yeah,” I answer, voice rough. “You okay?”
She nods. “Better now.”
I kiss Lila’s forehead. She blinks up at me.
“We win?” she mumbles.
“We did, Jellybean.”
Her smile is soft. Safe.
And I think,this is the only scoreboard I care about.
Because winning’s good. But coming home to them, that’s everything.
