Confessions of a Teenage Caffeine Addict

42 // Opportunities

Be at peace, not in pieces.

—Arabic Proverb

____________________________________

JAKE

MARCH

I sat on the bench next to my best friend, the kid who had learned me a thing or two about hockey, always had my back—even when I was wrong—and loved Emma almost as much as he loved chocolate cake. I stared down at my hands which were crossed over one another, my eyes traveling down to my meticulously laced skates and over the grip tape around my purple socks. Everything was right where it should have been. I closed my eyes and envisioned the game: I thought of taking the puck down the ice, my stick giving as I received pass after beautiful pass from my teammates. I saw myself whip out that move I had been working on all season against Georgie and dangling him right out of his pads and then some. Yes, this is how it was going to go.

"Coach, those yoga sessions have really paid off," A-Mart said. "I feel calm as a clam."

"Cool as a clam," Derek corrected him.

"Cucumber!" Half of the guys on the team shouted and I couldn't help laughing along with them.

"You'll get it some day, Leight."

"I'm getting it tonight," he said and I waited for him to clarify. "All those loose pucks and rebounds," he smirked. "All the opportunities!" Derek and Coach said in perfect unison.

"Holy cow, Leighton, you have been paying attention in my class." He looked shocked beyond belief.

"Coach, don't have a heart attack until after State." Derek's leg bounced up and down.

My phone buzzed and I fished through my locker for it, only to find a text from my mom. It was a picture of her and Emma, who was wearing a mini-Kings jersey with my number on it. All ready to see Daddy play.

I barely had time to smile before Coach was shouting at me, "Are you ready to play hockey or melt into a puddle of sappy feelings?" He banged his clipboard against one of the lockers. I showed Derek the picture before tossing my phone back into my locker. "What is this? Show-and-tell?"

"Nothing to tell, sorry, Coach." I shrugged. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd love to hear one of those famous speeches you've been practicing in your bathroom mirror." I leaned on my stick.

"Alright, men," he started, but then stopped. "Nope. Nope, can't do it. That sounded a lot weirder than I thought it would." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Ladies!" he smiled putting his arms out to either side of him. "They might be bigger than you, faster than you and stronger than you, but I promise you they are not more flexible," he said and everyone had to chuckle at that. "That's the word for tonight's game: Flexible. You're gonna need to be flexible when you get jammed up in the boards. Look for a way to free the puck up without turning it over. "You're more clever than Mansfield," my dad added. "And be flexible with your teammates when you see them struggling. Help 'em out. Be flexible throughout the game, and in tough situations."

"Win or lose, you're still my team and you're still my players," Coach said. "But we are winning this game tonight, ladies!" he threw his fist into the air. A lot of the guys were nodding along with coach. "So that was one of my famous speeches... hairbrush and all." he smiled. "Now, let's go win ourselves a hockey game!" He opened the locker room door and charged out, the rest of us shouting and banging our sticks on the walls as we followed after him.

After Calum and I shook hands with Georgie and his scum and sang the National Anthem, we huddled up on our side of the ice: me, Calum, Derek, Ryder, Dougie, and A-Mart. "Alright, boys—look at the crowd, the people, their faces. Look."