Chapter Thirty-Two
Grif
I barreled down the ice after that Royals forward. She was determined to score.
Not tonight, Royals. Not tonight.
It would help if I felt on top of it. I’d thought that having a little rest while in the box would do it. But I still felt shitty. Probably from all the cake we’d had for Dean’s birthday. I’d been craving sweets even more than usual, so I indulged and ate too much.
Though I’d felt tired and sluggish all day.
Maybe I’d caught a cold?
As I caught up to the forward, I moved to knock her down and steal the puck. I stumbled. An elbow from one of the other Royals clocked me. I elbowed him back, pushing him away, trying to regain my balance.
And the puck.
Clark got it and passed it to Carlos. I got into position, ready for one of them to pass it to me. I stumbled again.
What was wrong with me? I felt weird… heavy.
Coach should call a line change soon. I’d have a sports drink and a hydrogel. Yeah. That would help me shake off this sluggishness.
Maybe during intermission, I could get some pickles or a banana.
Carlos passed the puck to me, but I no longer had a line to the goal. The strange feeling washed over me again, and my hand shook. Panic flooded me. I shot the puck back to Carlos, who was in a better position to score. My stick fell out of my hand and I slumped to the ice.
I heard a crack and everything went black.