On Thin Ice (Editing)

Chapter 14

I'm just going to leave you all with this.

*

“It’s a bit chilly in here today, folks, and I’m not just talking about the ice,” a commentator says as someone from the other team steals the puck from me easily, sending it down to our goal, where Tyler is unable to block the shot because he wasn’t ready.  “Has anyone else seen the cold looks going around between members of IIB’s team?”  Coach shoots the announcer a glare and tells him to commentate on the actual game, not the dynamic of the team.

It’s the championship game, and we’re down by three goals with only a minute left in the second period.  I’ve been playing like shit this entire game, too distracted by the fact that I’m supposed to be on the ice sometime in the next hour, and there’s still another period before I can even leave.  I can tell that the entire team is furious with me, and I’m sure Duncan and Coach have considered benching me and throwing Trace into the game at least thirty times now.

The next play starts, and I square up, trying to make myself a useful asset to the team.  Hesitantly, Duncan slaps the puck my way, and I start skating towards our opponent’s goal, directing my focus to the task at hand.  I hear a faint collection of gasps, and I know someone must have fallen on the ice during their routine.  The figure skating competition is taking place in a rink at the opposite end of the complex, and I’m still not sure how both events managed to take place in the same venue - it’s either fate, or Missy worked some kind of voodoo black magic.  My bets are on the latter.

Distracted again, I trip over my hockey stick, sending me sprawling and sliding across the ice.  The puck is out of my control now, and luckily, Truman skates over and grabs it before anyone else can.  “Dude, get your head in the game,” he shouts as he passes it back to Duncan, who is now aiming for the goal.  He shoots and just narrowly makes it in as the buzzer sounds for the end of the period, so that we’re now only down by two.

Nobody offers to help me up, so I push myself off the ice and skate over to our bench, grabbing a water bottle.  Nobody scoots over to give me space on the bench, and nobody offers any advice or support for my awful performance thus far in the game.  Everyone just looks kind of disappointed with me, and I can’t really blame them.  

A hand grabs my arm and I’m being dragged off to the side, out of ear shot of everyone else.  It’s Duncan, and if this were a cartoon, he would probably have smoke coming out of his ears.

“Listen, Violet,” he starts, pressing a hand up to his temple.

“Woah, wait,” I cut him off, unsure if I heard him correctly.  “What did you just call me?”

He raises his eyebrows at me and frowns.  “Violet,” he sounds out slowly, as if this is completely normal.  Which, considering how hard I’ve worked to keep up this act, it totally isn’t.

“Dude,” I laugh, getting nervous.  “My name is Vincent.  We’re teammates.”

“Cut the act, Vi,” he sighs, shaking his head.  “I know it’s you - it always has been.  Look, I know that you’re stressed out about your competition right now.  Trust me, I am too.  I want you to do well, and I know you’re going to.  But, you also have to understand that this right here - this game that’s going on out there right now is my figure skating competition.”  I quirk an eyebrow at that, and he rolls his eyes.  “It’s a metaphor - I don’t know, just go with it.  I know how important skating is to you, but hockey is important to me.  And I think it’s become pretty important to you, too, so I really need you to give this last period your all, okay?”