Page 2 of Heart Check
I clap Alex on the arm, drawing my attention back from dreams that could steal my focus. “I’m happy to practice with you. You know I try to get here early most mornings.”
“You think that’ll do it? We don’t all have your talent, Dawson,” he says with a self-deprecating smile.
I shrug off the compliment. “Talent is nothing without—”
“—good luck and hard work,” Alex finishes with a good-natured eye roll. “We know. Your dad get that tattooed on your ass yet?”
“Only a matter of time.” I grin, though there’s a weight in my chest at the reminder. This is the year I need to deliver. “But seriously. You heard Coach. Focus on your stats. I can help.”
“I heard him,” Alex says, sighing. “Yeah. Okay. Thursday? Drills?”
“You’re on.” I don’t even mind the idea of a little less sleep.Extra time on the ice is always a win in my book. If we know what’s good for us, we’re going to follow Red’s instructions this year.
So when his whistle tweets, sharp and short to mark the start of practice, I’m already jumping onto the ice.
An hour and a thousand drills later, Red claps his hands once, surveying the team over his bushy mustache as we kneel on the ice waiting for his final instructions. He squints appraisingly. “It’s gonna be a good season, boys. Shower up.”
A sigh of relief ripples through the group, and as soon as Red nods his dismissal, the guys are on their feet and skating back toward the locker room. Red doesn’t believe in going easy on us, which means the first practice back has us all wrung out like limp dishrags. The team’s skating slower than my grandma, and she’s had both hips replaced.
“Don’t forget to stretch,” I call after them. But I’m grabbing some water and adjusting my skates, preparing to run a few more drills before I follow the team to the showers. Noodle legs or not, if I want this year to be my best, I need to work harder than everyone else.
Red gives me a nod of approval. “I’ve been in touch with my friend Leo from the Steel.”
I stand at attention, hands behind my back, holding my breath. The Steel is one of the top Juniors teams, the very best of the USHL. As sure a jump start to a career as anything.
“He’s going to try to make the first game of the season. I’ve told him about you—best defensive forward I’ve coached in years—and he wants to see it with his own eyes.” Red holds my gaze, and suddenly I’m not tired anymore. “Skate like Iknow you can, and you’ve as good as secured yourself a spot for next year.”
My chest floods with warmth. Red doesn’t give compliments or promises easily. “Thanks, Coach. I’ll do my best.”
He nods at me. “Keep up the hard work.”
Red follows the guys to the locker room, and I start a few laps to quiet my mind. I know I’m the best player my age in Hamilton Lakes. I even beat Noah to top scorer last year, and Red got him lined up with the Gamblers. If he can do it for him, he can do it for me.
But being the best isn’t enough.
Talent is nothing without good luck and hard work.
The motto sends a shiver down my spine, and I skate faster to outrace it, chasing the puck from one end of the ice to the other. I have enough memories to remind me how true it is—a game I’d rather forget, a conversation I replay more often than I’d like to admit, an old rink littered with disappointments.
I slam the puck into the corner of the net, imagining a goalie diving for it but unable to stop its relentless trajectory. A perfect one-timer.
Red’s intense, but he knows what he’s doing. I’m not going to let a single shot slip away this year.
2.HARPER
The new ice hockey facilitymight be the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.
Sure, it’s beautiful on the outside—massive and shining, walls reflecting the October morning sunlight. The Hamilton Lakes hawk gleams, freshly painted, on the side.
But nothing has ever been such an eyesore.
Did it have to be right across from the school, sharing our parking lot? Does this place really need its sports to be in sight atalltimes?
Am I going to have to see that dumb hawk every time I head to first period?
Students mill around me with wide eyes and open mouths, their murmured excitement only irritating me more. The school mascot’s even here in full feathery regalia, waving its wings and hyping up the crowd for the upcoming season. My loose cream sweater was the softest thing I’d ever felt when I put it on this morning, but now it’s so itchy I’mthisclose to ripping off my own skin one cell at a time.
Or maybe it’s the molecules of air I’m sharing with the hockey team.
