Chapter 34 #2
“It states the bond between a mascot and mascot handler is sacred.”
If you would have told me about rule number eighty-five at the start of the season, I would have laughed and been concerned
I was being indoctrinated into some weird cult—which I’m still not entirely sure didn’t happen. Yet, our bond is sacred. Like two middle schoolers who cut their palms and pressed the bloody wounds together at a sleepover summer camp.
Except the camp was All-Star Weekend and the palm was her mouth on Chilly’s toothy opening pretending to give me mouth-to-mouth
resuscitation when I fainted briefly during the obstacle course. I can still hear the roar of the fans as I slowly regained
consciousness.
She breaks, her mouth curving into a smile. “It is sacred, isn’t it? I mean, I held up your furry torso while you peed. More
than once.”
“Sorry isn’t enough, but I’m hoping this helps.” I reach into my gym bag and pull out the taxidermized Chilly—touching it
for what I hope is the last time. I hand it over like I’m discarding a curse.
She gasps, as if the wind was knocked out of her. Her eyes widen. There’s a pit in my stomach. Have I miscalculated my friend
and made things worse? She begins to cry, sobbing into her hands. Big loud violent sobs.
She hates it—and me. It’s obviously terrifying her as it stands there like a haunted ventriloquist doll waiting until we’re all asleep so it can go on a murder spree.
Quinn lets out a long exhale. “This is the most beautiful and thoughtful gift I have ever received.” She takes my hands in
hers. They’re moist with sweat. “It’s an Ivy creation, isn’t it? A personal commission?” She grabs the cat and begins inspecting
her new art far more closely and personally than I ever ventured.
“Yeah. It’s a one of a kind piece of art for a one of a kind friend.”
The Zamboni driver rounds the corner and almost crashes into the boards at the sight of it.
“I guess if Brody can forgive you for lying, then I can forgive you for not fastening your head covering properly,” Quinn
says, petting her new art piece. She carries on, rambling about where she’s going to display the cat, but once I hear Brody’s
name, I’m stuck. What would make her say that? Did he say something about me?
“Brody and I haven’t spoken since that afternoon at the party,” I say. “I can’t disrupt the Minnesota Freeze comeback magic
that’s happening right now. They actually have a shot at winning the—”
“Shut up!” Quinn violently interrupts me before I have the chance to finish my sentence and utter the words no superstitious
sports fan wants to hear: Stanley Cup. “What is wrong with you? Don’t say it out loud.” She plugs taxidermized Chilly’s ears
with her fingers.
I laugh her off. “You’re too superstitious,” I say, already settling back into our familiar back-and-forth banter.
“And you’re clueless. You really haven’t heard about the new initiative Brody is spearheading, have you?”
My chest tightens. My body practically lunges forward, needing to know more. I sit on my hands in an attempt to restrain my eagerness. “No, I’ve been avoiding anything Brody-related because it makes me cry.” I try to sound indifferent, but Quinn can’t be fooled.
“Well, get some tissues ready because word around the office is he and Derek Thomas have formed a coalition of current and
past NHL players with the goal of getting the NHL to instill more CTE preventative measures and getting lifetime health care
added to the CBA this summer when it comes due for renewal. They’ve got like a hundred signatures from current and former
players already,” she says.
“Why would he do that?” I don’t let my mind go there—the needy place where you’ll find my heart. The place where Brody and
I are curled up together under the library’s string lights with our bellies full and sore from laughing.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“To . . . make new friends?” It’s awkward realizing that Brody might still be in love with me. It’s like being wrapped up
in one of his overzealous wool sweaters—my nose starts to bead with sweat. Quinn’s shoulders sink in a disappointed slump.
Brody is the last on my long list of wrongs to right. I’m not sure redemption is in the cards for us. Before speeding off
that afternoon, he told me he needed space. I have no idea what he’s been up to these past few weeks. I figured in our time
apart he’d realize that what I’d done was unforgivable and he wouldn’t want to see me again anyway.
When my dad played hockey, there were no spotters, there was no concussion protocol, and you would rarely see a game without a fight.
Since then, the game’s changed, but there’s still more the league can do.
I would hate to see other families go through what mine did.
I can’t believe Brody is leading this change—even after I lied to him.
I look up at Quinn with watery determined eyes. “I need your help. I need to win him back.”
She perks right up. “Are you asking for my help orchestrating a grand romantic gesture to get the guy?”
I nod while rejection anxiety already jitters my teeth. Is his coalition an act of love or pity? Knowing the truth can’t be
any worse than sinking deeper into this state of unknown.
“I have the perfect glitter for such an occasion.” She digs through her purse.
“No glitter.”
With a pot of green-and-gold glitter already in her palm, she looks up. “Not even a little glitter?”
“Maybe a little.”