Chapter 23 Ari
Ari
“She’s acting like I killed someone,” Anesu said from the other end of the phone.
“Well, betrayal is kind of like a mini death,” Ari joked as she walked across the Village through the snow.
The call started with her sister giving her a ring to check in after her last match, but it quickly devolved, as most conversations with her sister did, into a conversation about their parents.
“He’s still my dad. You got to spend your childhood with him, so why can’t I take a two-week trip to see him?
” Anesu said, disappointed. Ari wanted to say that her childhood hadn’t been a particularly happy one since their parents had spent the entire time fighting, but she quickly decided against it.
Because Anesu idolized their father. He never called her first and rarely spent more than half a day with her when he came to London for work, but Anesu refused to read between the lines.
She believed that if she tried hard enough, she could have the kind of father-daughter relationship that her friends did.
Because despite all the ways he’d disappointed her, Anesu still really loved their dad.
“You’re the only one she listens to. Can you at least try to reason with her?” Anesu asked.
Ari was in the middle of the most important tournament of her life. Mediating a family drama unfolding eight hundred miles away wasn’t even close to the top of her priorities that day. But she wanted to have both her mom’s and sister’s backs.
“Alright, I’ll talk to her,” Ari promised, adding it to her mental to-do list before saying goodbye and making her way over to the training building.
The one thing that surprised people when Ari talked about her schedule for the Olympics was how little time she and her teammates actually spent on the ice.
While they’d dedicated the months leading up to the Games to intense, practical preparation, they were only on the ice for a couple of hours a day.
They needed to preserve their energy for their matches and couldn’t risk injuring or overexerting themselves in the middle of a tournament.
So, the rest of their time was spent doing light sessions at the gym, going to physio appointments, and making sure their bodies were in perfect shape.
Their priority off the ice was mental sharpness and making sure that, as a team, they were mentally in sync.
Which was why Ari tried to be the first to arrive to all their locker room and meeting room sessions.
As the captain, she set the tone. But after taking photos earlier with Drew, she’d made a stop at a café to grab one of the vitamin-rich teas she’d heard about from her teammates.
They were spending hours each day breathing in winter air, and she knew the worst thing she could do was catch a cold.
So, she ordered a lemon-and-ginger immune-system-boosting tea and let herself drink it in the café while looking out at the snow.
They had a team practice that morning and she wanted a moment to think before preparing for their next game.
The detour didn’t make her late, but instead of arriving her usual fifteen minutes early, she got to the meeting room at 8:57.
Just three minutes before they were scheduled to start.
It was a decision she immediately recognized as a mistake, because the scene she walked in on that morning was pure chaos.
“Face it, Yasmeen,” said Izzy, “it’s your fault all the pucks keep getting past the line!” Izzy, who was usually the most cheerful of them all, was practically shouting at Yasmeen as they stood face-to-face in the locker room.
“Oh, of course,” said Yasmeen, rolling her eyes. “Everybody blames defense when we lose, but nobody blames the forwards for barely scoring!”
“We’re killing it on the rink!” shouted Sienna, getting up from her seat.
“I scored three times in the last game, but why did we lose? Because you didn’t save any of the goals Sweden scored,” she said, pointing over at the screen on the wall, set up for them to review their last match.
Ari stood still in the doorframe as she watched it all unfold.
“Maybe if you were a little quicker and got control of the puck from the start, you would have scored more,” said Izzy. Pointing to a flipchart on the other side of the room that listed all their game statistics.
“Well, maybe if you applied more energy to practice than your social calendar, you’d actually be able to do your job,” said Sienna with the kind of shrug that invited an escalation.
Ari had seen this play out before. Since Izzy was the goaltender and Yasmeen played on defense, in moments like this they quickly went from arguing with each other to forming a tight team against anyone who attacked their side of the team, which in this case was Sienna.
“You’re so predictable,” said Yasmeen with the terrifyingly calm voice she used when she was ready to dress someone down. “You blame everybody but yourself. But we’re supposed to walk on eggshells and ignore the fact that you missed that penalty.”
“That’s bullshit,” said Sienna defensively. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me.”
Izzy replied by mocking her.
“Yes, we do. All we do is tiptoe around you so we don’t hurt your delicate little feelings.
‘Oh, Sienna is so stressed, be nice to her.’ ‘Oh, Sienna is worried, so don’t tell her the truth.
’ ‘Oh, Sienna is listening to white noise because she’s overwhelmed.
’ Who cares?” said Izzy with an uncharacteristic amount of venom.
Ari had never heard her so angry or mean.
The women on the team had known each other for over a decade.
They’d met in their early teens and gone through many stages of life together.
Awkward hairstyles, first dates, stressful exam prep, and hundreds of ice hockey games.
They knew one another inside out and felt more like cousins or sisters than friends.
But knowing each other that well meant that they knew exactly what to say to hurt one another for the sake of making a point.
At first, Ari stood back and allowed them to go back and forth.
Arguments were a natural part of being on a team in a fiercely competitive sport.
But things had been off with them ever since Gracie’s injury.
The fractures from boot camp were getting deeper.
So, Ari tried to step in before things could get any worse.
“How about we stop blaming each other and focus on what we need to do to get better?” said Ari, trying to defuse the tension. But in ending one argument, she made herself the target for the next.
“Ari, be honest. You know we’re screwed.” Yasmeen shook her head.
“Let’s face it, compared to the other teams, we’re just not that good,” Izzy said, defeated.
“I told you. We should have never gotten our hopes up,” said Sienna. “Which is why I always say expect the worst. That way, you’re never disappointed.”
All the other girls began to groan.
“Why do you have to be so depressing all the time?” Yasmeen said.
“I’m realistic, the only realistic one here! We did a good job to get here, but we might just have to accept that this is the end,” answered Sienna, but Ari wasn’t having it.
“I swear, if you keep talking like that, I’m getting Coach to bench you,” said Ari. “Actually, I’ll bench all three of you if you keep at this.”
The room went silent.
She’d never made a game-based threat before.
In fact, beyond a few failed pep talks, Ari had never really put her foot down in a way that reminded them that she was their captain.
There were twenty-two other girls on the team, and most of them hadn’t given her any problems. But the dynamics between Ari and her three best friends on the team were much more complicated.
Izzy was the fun one, Sienna was the honest one, Yasmeen was the chilled-out one, and Ari was the confidante.
The person who subtly worked behind the scenes to fix things, the friend you could talk to without judgment.
But they didn’t talk to her as much now that she was their captain.
Not because they liked her any less, but because they couldn’t confide in the person whose new job it was to keep them in line.
So, Ari had been trying her best not to say or do anything that caused any further divides between her and her friends.
But that caution was starting to get in the way of their chances of success.
“You know you’re not our actual captain, right?” said Sienna. She rarely got mean, but she was staring into Ari’s eyes with an intense glare. “Gracie is our captain. Coach only gave you the role because—” Sienna stopped herself midsentence, knowing she’d gone too far.
“Because what?” said Ari. The room went silent as they faced each other. They’d been friends since they were kids and fought like sisters when things got tough, so nobody dared get in the middle of things. “If you’re going to start something, finish it.”
“Because I’m the best player on the team,” said Sienna, steely eyed. “I can’t be captain because I have to focus all of my energy on scoring goals.”
It stung a little, because she was right. But Sienna’s willingness to say something like that made it clear why their roles hadn’t been reversed.
“You might score more goals than me, Sienna, but the real reason you’re not captain is because you don’t have the temperament to lead a team. Even now. Why are you picking a fight?” Ari asked.
“Because you don’t know how to!” said Sienna.
Ari’s heart sank. The room stilled. The flash of regret in Sienna’s eyes and their teammates’ nervous glances made it clear they’d all been thinking the same thing. Izzy stared at the ground. Yasmeen picked up her kit bag and walked across the room.
The room stayed quiet as Ari let the words sink in. The rest of her teammates took their seats, but she and Sienna stayed standing. The words exchanged still hanging in the air.
“Is that what you really think?” Ari asked, trying not to sound as deflated as she felt.
“Ari,” Sienna said with a sigh, her voice almost apologetic. “It’s not working. Everyone walks all over you … and you just let them.”
Ari could feel the pinpricks in her eyes.
She opened her mouth and tried to voice a response, but the words wouldn’t come out.
Coach McLaughlin walked in a few seconds later.
He looked around, bewildered by the silence, then walked to the front of the room to commence their team meeting.
He started talking about strategy and execution, but Ari couldn’t take any of it in.
Sienna’s words were still ringing in her head.
They’d had dozens of arguments over the years, but this one felt different because the most painful thing Sienna had said was the truth.
And as she glanced around room, it became painfully apparent.
Something needed to change, because as she’d learned a long time ago, nobody was coming to save her.