28. Benji #2
He sputters angrily, but the ref blows the whistle, and his attention is forced to the puck drop. I keep a careful distance from him the rest of the period, knowing it’s only a matter of time before he blows up.
Grant is easy to rile up, but quick to calm down, and you always see him coming. He has his limits and he fights fair. Roberts, on the other hand, is sneaky and cheap. And man, that fucker can hold a grudge.
I start relaxing halfway through the third, and that’s where my mistake is made.
Grant makes a beautiful pass up the ice to me, and it’s just me, the Pirates goalie, and one Pirates player – Roberts.
I turn on the gas, barreling up the ice to put distance between me and Roberts, but even as I approach the goalie, I can hear him working to catch up to me.
The crowd’s roaring grows, and I adjust the puck on my stick, gearing up to shoot.
A gloved hand whips out, grabbing at my jersey.
I lose my balance, just enough that the puck fires off my stick as nothing more than a wobble. The Pirates goalie saves it easily, and I turn my momentum away from the net to the corner. I’m able to slow myself, and note the ref’s hand, raised high in the air. Penalty.
“Penalty shot!” The crowd screams, and I grin.
Just as I fully put on the brakes, ready to head back up to center ice, I’m shoved firmly in the back – two hands, one stick – and the boards rush up to greet my face with a sickening crack.
There’s angry shouting in the crowd, but all I can hear is Roberts as he leans over me, saying, “I’ll get my dick wet when I fuck your girl.
Just imagine those pretty lips wrapped around my –”
There’s an oomph and the shuddering of boards as he’s – presumably – slammed into them.
I scramble to my feet with a groan, but I’m pushed back against the boards as both teams join the fray.
I note the warmth trickling down to my upper lip and blink to clear my vision.
Grant has Roberts by the jersey, and he’s working to free his other arm, which is being held back by other players.
“Finish that sentence,” he snarls at Roberts.
“Finish it, and see how many teeth you’ll have left. ”
I’m tempted to join in, but my gaze slides involuntarily into the crowd, where I find Lyssa’s face. Her eyes are wide and worried, and all I can think of is finding her the night of the bar fight, working to recollect herself. I don’t want to give her another reason to shut down on me.
By the time I turn back, the refs are already breaking up the fight, making the decision for me.
Roberts is led to the penalty box and I’m led back to the bench, where I’m handed a wet washcloth.
I pat my face as they decide what to do with all of us, and peer down at the bright crimson that immediately takes over the fabric.
I groan inwardly. I’m not ready to deal with another broken nose.
The decision comes back – five minute major for Roberts, penalty shot for me – and I toss the cloth back on the bench, sliding my gloves back on.
The puck is placed in center ice, and it’s just me and the Pirates goalie.
I size him up, ignoring the warmth already trickling slowly back down my nose.
It’s easy to tune everything else out when there’s just one obstacle to focus on ahead of me.
I’ve practiced this so many times I could do it in my sleep.
I start by swinging wide across the ice, picking up the puck as I go, fast at first and then slowing down as I approach the goalie, dribbling the puck carefully.
At the last minute, I fake a shot, kicking my leg out.
When the goalie bites, I swoop to the side, sinking the puck in the back of the net.
I can hear the roar of the crowd, and I smile to myself. I’ll be proud of that one later, but right now, I just need to make sure I don't bleed on the fucking ice.
When I settle back on the bench, Highcloud sidles up to me and hands me a fresh washcloth. “Up by two, three minutes left. And you put Roberts out for the game.” He gives me a congratulatory nudge, and I nod in thanks.
“You know he did that because you’re pissing him off, right?
” Coach says as he comes up behind me. I nod, checking the washcloth.
It’s still pink, but at least it isn’t taking over the fabric like it was before.
He continues. “You’re beating his game on every level tonight, and it was the only thing he could think of doing to keep up. ”
“He wants to get in my head,” I mutter, and toss the cloth to the side. My nose is still throbbing, but at least the worst of the bleeding has stopped. I'll be able to finish the game.
“And you didn’t let him. Keep up the good work, kid.
” He claps me on the shoulder. “Things are looking good for Jordie. We might be needing you to finish out the season as our captain. Get eyes back on you as the next Leopards call-up.” I turn to look up at him, and the pride in his eyes is clear as he adds, “You’ve earned it. ”