Page 55 of Hockey Bois
“Seven-sixteenths,” the kid said again with a confident smile. “All the pros are doing it these days.”
Nick took a step back and looked around. Was he dreaming? Was this random kid at the friggin’ Columbia Ice Rink seriously telling him what the pros were doing?
“I’m serious, bro,” the kid said. He couldn’t be more than sixteen, probably a player on a local high-school team who they trusted with sharpening skates because who else would work at an ice rink at 10:00 p.m. except for some kid who lived down the street and wanted any excuse to make money and stay out on a school night? “Everyone on my team does it. My girlfriend’s boyfriend plays for a college team, and all his boys do it. I’m telling you, it’s money.”
Nick wanted to point out that none of the people mentioned were professionals. He wanted to say that he would prefer a more standard cut,because dicking around with something like that before a game probably wouldn’t go his way. He also wanted to reach across and take his skates back, say he’d changed his mind, no thanks, and get them sharpened somewhere else.
Pressed for time and wanting this whole ordeal over with, what he actually said was, “Yeah, sure, fine. Do it.”
The kid looked happy but unsurprised that Nick had yielded to his obvious expertise. The whole time he sharpened Nick’s skates, Nick stood there in dread. This wasn’t a mistake, right? He wasn’t ruining his skates or his ability to use them, was he?
Well, if this is a mistake, I’ll at least knowwhatthe mistake was. If I hadn’t agreed, the kid might’ve done it anyway and then if I’d had a problem, I would’ve never known… Hell, if it worked out, I wouldn’t’ve known.
The kid winked as he slid them across the counter. “You’re gonna get a hatty today, bro.”
Nick snorted. He’d never even had a two-goal game, so the chances of suddenly scoring three were slim to none. There were no hat tricks in his future, that was for damn sure. “And I get my money back if I don’t, right?” he grumbled and accepted the skates. Would it be bad form to inspect them right now?
“No refunds, bro. But I promise, if you don’t feel amazing after stepping on the ice, I’ll re-sharpen them for free.”
Nick looked at the clock. 9:45 p.m. Their game was at 10:15, and there was no way he could reasonably expect to be on his way home much before midnight. Even if by some miracle this kid was still here then, the sharpener would be shut down, and they’d be cleaning up.
“Thanks, kid,” he said all the same. Whatever. How bad could it be?
The whole ordeal made him late onto the ice to warm up, and he rushed through getting dressed so he could getsomepractice. He grabbed his stick, bolted onto the ice and—
THUD!
Instantly, he hit the ice hard. What the fuck?
He tried standing up and could even get his feet under him, but the second he tried to actually skate, it was impossible to do anything but fall.
Oh shit. Shit shit shit shitshit—
His fourth time landing on his knees, he looked up to find Brady towering over him.
“What’s wrong?” Brady asked, no-nonsense and straight to the point. “You hurt?”
“Just my pride,” he gritted out, cheeks burning.
“You lose a blade or something?” The genuine concern would normally make Nick’s heart melt, but now all it did was embarrass him more.
“At least that wouldn’t be my fault… I uh… I got a new cut and I can’t… uh, I can’t skate?”
“A new—a newcut?” Clearly this was beyond Brady’s understanding, a problem so far from his expectations that his bewilderment was almost comical. “What cut is it?”
“Seven-sixteenths?”
“Seven… seven-sixteenths? Is that even a cut? Why are you trying a new cut before a game? Why are you trying some random-ass cut like thatever?”
Nick wanted to defend himself and blame the persuasive kid, but he knew that wouldn’t cut it.
Pun unfortunatelynotintended.
“I don’t even know.” Nick accepted the hand Brady offered and was surprised how easily Brady pulled him up.
“You think you can skate with…” Brady looked at the scoreboard, counting down the minutes left before puck drop. “Uh… three minutes and twenty-ish seconds of practice?”
Nick took a tentative stride forward and almost ate it again. Only Brady’s solid grip kept him on his feet as he scrambled to keep his balance.
