Page 73 of Heart Check
I wrap my arms around myself against the cold of the arena, my pulse racing. Maybe I used to be able to write Dawson and his team off. A few months ago, I couldn’t have cared less about how they played and whether they won.
Maybe it’s time to admit I care. To show up for this team the same way everyone has shown up for me.
We really aren’t so different. We all need that.
The team skates out onto the ice to a roar of approval from the crowd, and I rise to my feet with everyone else, shouting and applauding. My heart in my throat, I reach into my bag and draw out a bracelet.
And I wrap #47 around my wrist.
26.DAWSON
My whole body feels poisedon the edge of my skates. Alex, Noah, and I are on the first line, braced for the game to begin. I’m hyperaware of the scout somewhere in the stands and of Alex’s tension on the other side of Noah. He got his wish to start on varsity, thanks to Coach Dan. But I can tell he’s quaking in his skates. He’s already sweating, and we haven’t even started yet.
Red’s words echo in my ear.Most of the players are mediocre. Every year there’s at least one to watch, though. This year it’s Dawson here.
I can’t deny how good it feels to be told I have talent, to have someone believe in me. Red’s pride still makes something glow inside me—but it’s dimmer than before. Tainted. The idea that the rest of my team ismediocremakes my gut tighten with anger. These guys are my brothers, and I wouldn’t be anywhere without them.
I have to hope Dan’s strategy is going to set us up for a win.
Because I’m throwing everything behind his plan, and I really need this game to go well. We all do.
The thunderous noise of the arena picks up another decibelor ten, the yells of the crowd echoing off the ceiling, their eager hands slamming against the glass panels. Right now I’m shivering from the artificial chill in the air, but I know in a few minutes I’ll be pouring sweat, desperate to wipe it off my forehead but unable to in the midst of a shift.
I lock in on the enemy goal, taking a minute to remind myself of today’s focus. Even from this distance, I imagine I can see the chipped paint on the pipes around the net, already damaged from being slammed with pucks.
Noah bends forward for the face-off. For a moment, everyone is suspended, holding their breath, waiting for the game to start. I do my best to beam every ounce of confidence I have into Alex.You got this. No one I’d rather be on the ice with.
We can do this together.
And then the puck drops, sticks smash together, and Noah’s off to the guest side of the ice.
For a minute, I’m smiling with the sheer exhilaration of playing. Even with my nerves, gliding up and down the ice is everything I need or want in the world. Up to speed—here come the boards—the puck has shifted, lean into your edges—every thought locked in, every muscle doing what it’s been trained to do.
But the exhilaration evaporates fast. We don’t even get to celebrate winning the face-off, because Northview steals the puck back before Noah can take a shot.
The air in the stadium changes, shifts, as everyone holds their breath. Realizing it’s going to be a tough game.
Northview’s even better than I remember. They skate circles around us, shifting into new formations with the graceful unity of a school of fish, moving with preternatural intuition. Asif the rest of the team’s movements are as ingrained in their muscle memory as their own. We try to get the puck back, and even though our D-men are strong, the Northview guys are too fast on their skates. They make the first goal.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I call, circling back to Noah and Alex and slapping some quick high fives. My quads are already burning. By the end of the game, I’ll barely be able to walk without quivering.
Noah nods tensely, and when he faces off again, it’s with tenacity. He wins the puck a second time, and we head toward enemy ice. My breath is already coming fast—Coach is going to have to swap our line out soon, but I know we’d all like to redeem ourselves before that happens—
Then we get our opening.
Alex is skating left, heading into the two-on-one maneuver Coach Dan has had us practicing.
So I head right, drawing defenders my way, and I see it.
The clear shot Alex has on the goal, if Noah passes to him. Northview never even sees it coming, they’re so focused on me. Dan’s play is perfect.
Noah’s head flicks toward both of us—clocks the defenders on me—and his eyes skim right off of Alex. I see his decision before he makes it, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
He goes for the shot himself, totally ignoring the play we have set up.
My heart drops.
He’s immediately blocked, losing the puck, and Northview takes it back to our side of the ice.
