Breaking the Ice

six

My skates chopped across the ice, spraying little shards behind me as I glided past the defense. The puck whirred at my feet, swishing back and forth as my stick guided it to the net. I was hyperfocused, high on adrenaline and whatever beautiful drug they must have sent spraying through the AC vents. This was my element, and I was in the zone, calm and dangerous and light. Everything—the cold nipping at my cheeks, the clunky mouthguard covering my teeth, and the ice beneath my skates—felt so right.

Skidding to a near stop to sidestep a member of defense, I sent the puck flying between his parted legs, barely whizzing past Simon and sinking into the back corner of the net.

Behind me, my team erupted into a chorus of cheers, skating over to give me a solid pat on the back or a knock to the shoulder. Jason pried off his helmet in front of me, levelling me with a droll look. "Between my legs, Luke? Really?"

I grinned, spitting out my mouthguard. "Everything else ends up down there, anyways. Don't be so surprised."

"Alright, alright!" Coach called from the stands, blowing his whistle. "That's game. Everyone huddle up, chop chop!"

Quickly, everyone gathered into a sweaty thrum around Coach, who was tapping his clipboard with a pen. Thomas was to my right, leaning into my shoulder with a lazy grin.

"Lucky shot, dude," he said, knocking his skate into mine. His smile turned sharp. "But next time, I'm handing you your ass in scrimmage."

I snorted. "You can try."

"Quiet down," Coach said. The talking ceased. "I just wanted to run you all through the policy for Friday's game. We're taking the bus from school campus to the rink, but you're responsible for getting yourselves home. If you want to drive your own car to the event, ask me for a form before you leave tonight. I need those in by Wednesday to give to admin. As for the game, all of your positions are staying the same." Coach hit his clipboard with the butt of his pen, clicking it closed. "Check the athletics board tomorrow to see who's gonna be starting. Other than that, you're free to go. Just give me a quick: hawks!"

"Hawks!" the team cheered around me, hooting and pumping their fists in the air. Thomas brought his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. Coach tucked his clipboard under his arm and clapped once, grinning wolfishly.

"Now, go shower! You all smell like shit!"

Laughing, the team started to waddle off of the ice, collapsing on benches to unlace their skates and peel off sweaty helmets. Some ran for the locker rooms, trying to get the first showers. As I was undoing my skates by the rink, Jason came up to me, already out of his shin-guards and making a beeline to the shower stalls.

"Hey, I'm sorry to ask, but can you give me a ride?" he asked, glancing briefly at the time on his phone. "Mom wants me home in half an hour, but the bus doesn't leave for another forty minutes."

"Yeah, of course," I said. "Just give me ten minutes to change. I'll meet you by the car."

Jason visibly deflated in relief, grinning swiftly before running for the locker room. "Thanks, Luke! You're the best!"

I finished prying off my skates, shouldering my duffle to change in the locker room. Not the one by the rink, though: Robert had been kind enough to give me my own, designated locker where I could keep my things in the room attached to another rink down the hall.

Catching a quick glimpse at the time on my phone, I made my way down the hall, shouldering past the swinging locker room door and hurrying inside. Quickly, I dropped my bag on the bench and opened my locker, pulling off my shirt and spraying on some fresh deodorant. I made quick work of redressing, pushing out of the locker room, and making my way to the bulletin board in the hallway. Next to the hockey schedule was a poster for public skate days and one with big blue letters advertising some figure-skating competition. I snapped a picture of the board on my phone before getting on my way.