Page 99 of Hockey Bois
Midway through the second period, he saw an opportunity. He shadowed their worst player and stripped him of the puck, ducked through the only gap he could see, and kept close to the boards as he headed into the zone. He had a clear path to the net if he could just—
WHAM!
Nick wasn’t sure what hurt more: his body being crushed against the boards as his helmet slammed into the glass, or the wind getting knocked out of him and every agonizing gasp for air that followed.
Or maybe it was when he collapsed to the ice, hitting his head again on the way down.
It was like an out-of-body experience. Like he could see himself lying limp on the ice, see Gail and the Gregs rushing over. Brady dropped his gloves and punched a guy on the other team. People from both benches jumped to their feet. A ref and Benns pulled Brady away.
Blood stained the ice.
He heard their voices, but the words were delayed, like they were traveling a long distance to get to him.
“You okay?”
“Nicki, can you hear me?”
“Can you move?”
“FUCKING CHEAP SHOT, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”
“Someone get an ice pack!”
“Do we call 911?”
“Has he moved?”
“Nicki, squeeze my hand, yeah?”
“What, you can take out an unsuspecting guy, but you can’t fight for yourself when you see it coming?”
“GET HIM OUT OF HERE!”
“Get BOTH of them out of here!”
“Captains! Here!Now!”
“He squeezed my hand. All right, bud, we’re gonna get you off the ice and to a doctor, yeah?”
Strong hands lifted him up. His body resisted at first, but once he was on his feet he managed to stay there. He had an arm over each of the Gregs’ shoulders, and they led him to the open door and vaguely toward the locker rooms.
“Here you go, bro,” Young Greg said as he lowered him onto a bench. Nick was right outside the rink but being on this side of the boards, he didn’t stand a chance of making out a damn word of the argument on the other side. “We’re gonna get your skates off so you can walk.”
GG and Young Greg each took a leg.
“You all right, kid?” GG asked.
Noises came out of Nick’s mouth that almost sounded like coherent thoughts.
“Concussion for sure,” GG muttered.
“What a prick. It ain’t even a fucking checking league!” Young Greg shouted over his shoulder for the benefit of everyone still on the ice.
“When’s that ever stopped anyone?” GG grumbled.
Young Greg huffed indignantly. “I think there’s a difference between getting a little physical and fucking charging a guy. You don’t even see that shit in the NHL much these days.”
Nick slumped back against the wall. He watched numbly as they started to wiggle his left and then right skates off. He wondered if they’d mind helping him with his other gear, because he didn’t remember how to undo his helmet.
