Chapter 14 Mackenzie
I had one practice with the Ransom Devils before my first game.
One. And it didn’t go well. I hadn’t played with my brother since last winter, so I was noticeably rusty.
The guys on the team did little to help me shake off the cobwebs.
Most of them seemed hesitant to shoot against me, which was a stark contrast from the way they had played in tryouts, before they knew I was a girl.
Between that and the fact that I was the head coach’s daughter, I understood why they were acting that way. But it was incredibly frustrating.
On top of everything, my dad was refusing to talk to me.
At practice he pretended like I wasn’t there.
I’d been hoping to get just a little bit of direction; maybe some tips on how to improve or “keep up” as he had demanded.
But the few words of advice I did receive were from Coach Rainer, and even he seemed more focused on Anderson. It was like they wanted me to fail.
I was actually shocked to hear my name when my dad announced the starting lineup for the game on Saturday night. A part of me had assumed he’d just let Anderson play. But then I wondered, was he genuinely giving me an opportunity to prove myself, or throwing me in at the deep end to watch me drown?
Our away game against the Suffolk High Sharks was a short bus ride from Ransom, at a rink a few towns over.
The boys blasted music on the bus and the energy was high, but I was a nervous mess by the time we arrived, struggling to ignore the deep-seeded feeling that I wasn’t ready.
That I needed more time. Training this week had left my body aching in places I didn’t know existed.
And I’d tossed and turned the whole night before, picturing today’s game and the group of angry boys with hockey sticks who would be skating toward me hellbent on taking me down.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a nightmare; it was the reality of what I’d gone and signed myself up for.
And as we warmed up for the game, I kept glancing at the opposition.
The Sharks players were huge. Even at a distance, they looked double the size of my Devils teammates.
I knew that wasn’t true, and I kept trying to tell myself it was all in my head, but our opponents seemed to grow a few inches each time I looked at them.
I felt like I was going to be sick as my dad called us together and delivered his pregame pep talk. I didn’t hear a word. The ground seemed to be swaying beneath me, and I could almost sense my skin turning green.
Dad probably thought it would only take one game to make me realize what an idiot I was for thinking I could handle this. He probably figured I wouldn’t even make it to the rink today. That I’d quit before I even left the house.
The surest sign of his lack of faith was the jersey I’d been assigned.
It was an old practice jersey, and while I looked the same as all my teammates in our white road uniforms with the red Devils logo on the front, I was the only one without a name on the back.
Just the same number Ford had worn: one.
It was as if I was keeping it warm for him.
Parker kept shooting me worried glances. It was the only thing keeping my stomach in check. The last thing I wanted to do was throw up in front of him.
He came over once my dad had finally finished his speech. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You look whiter than my ass in the middle of winter.”
“That image isn’t helping my nausea.”
“Oh, God, you’re not seriously going to be sick, are you?”
“No,” I replied. “At least, I don’t think so. It’s just some pregame jitters.” He continued to frown at me, as though I’d failed to reassure him, but I didn’t have the energy to argue right now.
“Fine, I’m a little scared, okay?”
“Scared?” He said it like he’d never even heard of the concept before.
“Those guys out there are twice my size, and they all want to eviscerate me.” I was beginning to see why perhaps my dad had some reservations about me playing hockey.
Girls could do anything—yes. But what kind of damage would I suffer if a full-grown boy slammed into me?
I was putting a whole lot of trust in my pads and helmet.
“You’re only just realizing that now?” Parker asked. “You know you’re playing on a guys’ team, right?”
“Of course I do. It’s just a little different to playing one-on-one with my brother. These guys couldn’t care less if I end up in the back of an ambulance.” I swallowed. What if I did end up needing an ambulance?
Parker rubbed a hand against his forehead. “Look, you don’t need to be scared. Goalies rarely end up in hospital.”
“Rarely?”
“Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“But—”
“Just focus on defending the net. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t respond, just stared out at the ice.
“Parker?”
He snapped round to face me. “It means, no one touches my goalie.”
His goalie? I wanted to laugh—I wasn’t his anything—but Parker’s expression was deadly serious. It made me feel safer, like I wasn’t going to be alone out there.
He turned and stalked away, erupting through the gate and onto the ice. As I followed, I noticed a few smirking faces watching me from the Sharks’ bench.
“Hey look, it’s goaltender Barbie,” one player laughed. “This should be fun.”
“Don’t break a nail out there, princess,” another mocked.
Their words struck me harder than I expected, and anger pulsed hot in my veins. I wanted to turn, skate toward them and show them exactly what this princess’s nails could do. But I couldn’t allow myself to be distracted, not when there was already so much anxiety churning in my gut.
Parker was just finishing a lap. I could hear the Sharks players still laughing from the bench and saw Parker’s eyes narrow. He started skating toward me, but I quickly held out a hand to stop him.
“Don’t,” I said. “I can handle it.”
He glanced between me and our snickering opponents. Judging by the look in his eyes, it was taking all his willpower not to ignore my request, jump over the boards, and beat the two guys to a pulp.
“But—”
“No, Parker. I told you, I can handle it.”
He skated away with a disappointed sigh, as though I’d stopped him from playing with his favorite toy.
As I took up my position in front of the net, my nerves only increased.
The arena felt much larger when you were right in the middle of it, with rows of seats looking down at you, all filled with cheering Suffolk High fans willing you to fail.
Music blared from the speakers surrounding the rink so I could barely hear the familiar sound of skates scraping the ice, and the arena somehow felt colder than Ransom’s.
Not for the first time, I tried to convince myself this was all in my head, but before I knew it the game started. There was no turning back now.
I’d watched countless hours of ice hockey from the stands and on TV over the years, but it felt like an entirely different game from where I now stood.
The players seemed faster, the collisions bigger.
The puck flashed across the ice so quickly I was struggling to keep track of it.
I soon realized I couldn’t afford to lose focus for even a second because the Sharks forwards were relentless, firing off shots whenever they had half a chance.
I managed to save the first few, but that didn’t dent their resolve, and they continued to test me, with both their slapshots and their verbal blows.
“Try not to cry when I score.”
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take you out after we’ve won.”
“You know we’re going easy on you, right?”
The patronizing comments kept coming, and I did my best not to let them put me off. But there was only so much I could ignore before my jaw started to twitch and my anger started to build.
Unfortunately, my lack of fitness wasn’t helping my performance.
Each save I made felt a little harder than the last. I kept waiting for my dad to notice and replace me with Anderson, but the call never came.
Eventually, my exhaustion got the better of me.
I saved a shot but the puck fell at the feet of a particularly mean-looking Sharks forward.
I was too slow to react to the rebound, and he scored the first goal of the game, less than a minute before the end of the period.
As my dad barked instructions at us during the intermission, I could tell Anderson was itching to take over.
But there was no way I was going to ask my dad to pull me out.
Besides, I’d only let one goal in so far.
We could still win this game. I was just going to have to ignore the way my body was screaming for a rest.
As we took to the ice for the second period, the Sharks forward who had scored earlier slid up alongside me.
He was easily their most intimidating player, and he towered over me.
His mouthguard was hanging from his lips as he leered through the grill on his helmet, revealing a couple of missing teeth.
“Damn, I thought for sure they’d have sent you back to the kitchen by now.” He let out a low menacing laugh. “Not that I’m complaining. I could do with another goal or two.”
“Is there a problem here?” Parker skidded to a stop next to us, putting his body between the guy and me. They were inches from each other, and I knew I needed to deescalate the situation quickly.
“There’s no problem,” I replied, tugging Parker away. “Let’s play.”
Once again, he reluctantly obeyed, like it went against every instinct in his body to skate away from a fight. Was he always this desperate to throw down in a game? I didn’t see him squaring up with Sharks players on behalf of his other teammates.
“You know,” Parker said, “I could easily knock a couple more of that dude’s teeth out for you, if you like.”
“I’d much prefer you even the score instead.”
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll leave you to it. Just don’t let these idiots get in your head, yeah?”