3. Danny
THREE
DANNY
“This is the best banana I’ve ever eaten,” I say as I chew, smiling so big Shep lifts both brows in an amused expression.
“I thought I bought the best bananas?” If I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of jealousy in my buddy’s voice.
I let out a laugh, then take another bite.
“Would you say it’s a ten?” he asks.
I think for a moment, then shake my head. “No.”
“Nah? The best banana you’ve ever eaten isn’t a ten?”
“I’m holding out for one that’s even better,” I say, truthfully.
“Funny. You’re talking about a banana, but that sums up your dating life too.”
“Low blow.” I finish off the banana and then give him the middle finger.
As we head down to the ice, Shep asks, “Do you think your excitement has anything to do with who gave it to you?”
It takes me a second to connect the dots.
“Sloane?”
“Yeah.” He lets out another small laugh.
“I can’t believe she’s been here as long as I have, and we haven’t run into each other before.” Moonshot isn’t a big city, and we have friends in common.
“I think that might not be as coincidental as you think.”
“What do you mean?”
He hesitates, as if he isn’t sure how much to say.
I stop in the tunnel, letting other guys move past us. “Spill it.”
A small, strained sound leaves his throat before he says, “She’s been avoiding you.”
“What?” Sweet Sloane who never said or did a mean thing as long as I’ve known her. That doesn’t track. I can’t believe she’s changed that much since I knew her in high school.
Shep starts walking again and I have no choice but to follow him to get more information.
“Why would she avoid me?” I ask him.
“I don’t know all the details, and even if I did…”
“Whitney would castrate you for telling me?” I guess.
He chuckles. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Fine. Fine. I’ll text Whit later.”
We skate onto the ice. It isn’t the same without the home crowd cheering us on, but I still breathe in the cool air and soak up the energy anyway. I grab a puck and fire it into the net, then skate around behind it. I do that a few dozen times, then head to center ice to stretch.
“How are we feeling?” Trav asks, dropping next to me and doing his own stretches.
“Nine.”
“Woah.” He lets out a hoot. “It’s going to be a good game, boys.”
It is a good game. So good I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
If I weren’t so tired, I might think I’m hovering above myself watching a dream play out.
A dream where I break my slump with a hat trick.
Three fucking goals after six games without a single one.
I am walking on clouds. Damn, I love this sport, this job, all of it.
The lows make the highs all the sweeter.
When I get to the locker room after the end of the third period, my teammates are chanting my name.
“D-Low. D-Low. D-Low.” They tap their sticks against the ground or bang their fists against the locker. Travis is already out of his skates and standing on top of the bench, yelling louder than anyone else.
We have a tradition that after every win, one player is given the player of the game award. It’s an old wrestling belt with a giant silver plaque inscribed with the Moonshot Hockey logo. It’s gaudy and amazing.
Shep’s been holding onto it since our last win, and he proudly grabs it out of his bag and hands it over to me.
“Oh man. It’s been a while.” I take it and hold it over my head to more cheers from my teammates.
“Well deserved,” Galaxy says, stepping to me and shaking my hand. He pulls me into a one arm hug and slaps my back.
I get more handshakes, hugs, and pats on the back from the rest of the guys and Coach Lenshaw.
“Very nice job, Marlowe,” Coach says. “Way to stick it out the past few games.”
“Few? I think your memory is failing you, Coach.”
His lips pull down at the corners, but his eyes twinkle. “Either way. You pulled through for us tonight. Rest up and enjoy your day off tomorrow. We’ve got a long season ahead of us still.”
Coach gives us a few more encouraging words and then leaves us to get changed. We’re heading straight back to Moonshot tonight. Since it was an afternoon game and we’re gaining an hour with the time difference, there might even be time to go out tonight.
On the team jet, I take a seat next to Shep. He angles the phone to show me he’s talking to Whitney.
I lean over so she can see me. “Hey, Whitney.”
“Hey, yourself, Mister Hat Trick.” She smiles at me through the screen.
“Thanks.”
“We’ll be back in a couple hours,” he tells her.
“Want to go out dancing?” I ask her.
She lifts her brows and gives me a look that can only be interpreted as ‘fuck right off.’
“You love dancing.,” I remind her. “And we have a day off tomorrow.”
“Uh huh.” She nods her head. “And I plan to spend it in bed with that one.” She tries to point toward Conrad, except the switch of camera makes it look more like she means me.
I laugh and decide not to tell her. It couldn’t be any more obvious how in love she is with my buddy. I’m happy for them.
“Fine.” I sigh dramatically and settle back in my chair. My adrenaline is still going. I’m on a high. So fucking happy to have put a few pucks in the net. I promise never to take it for granted again.
Once Shep is off the phone, he and I put on a movie. We’ve been going through Denzel Washington’s entire catalog, and we’re down the last few films. The guy is a legend.
Twenty minutes into the flight, Shep falls asleep. Admittedly, The Bone Collector isn’t Denzel’s best work.
I shut off the movie and pull out my phone, intending to scroll, but a text from my mom distracts me. It’s a picture of the sunset in Krueger. The sky is full of brilliant shades of orange and yellow. I bet it’s even prettier in person. Along with the pic is a message.
Mom
Ran into a nice man who works for a local aerospace company. I told him I’d pass this along.
And then she linked a job listing. Confusion tugs my brows together as I click on it and read through the role and qualifications. I have all the necessary degrees but… did she forget I’m a hockey player?
Me
Sort of have a job, remember?
Unease prickles at my skin as I wait for her reply.
Mom
It’s a short-term position over the summer. You’re done sometime soon, right?
Hopefully not until June. I’m still a little taken aback.
It was a shock to my parents when I was drafted in the league.
For me too. I hoped I would make it, but I wasn’t sure.
A lot of great players get overlooked. I was ecstatic when it happened.
I thought they were too. Sure, they don’t really follow sports in general, but they were happy for me. Or I thought they were.
I guess it’s safe to assume she didn’t see the news that I scored a hat trick tonight. She might not even know what that means.
I haven’t replied but Mom sends another text.
Mom
Just think about it. It could be fun, and you’d have some experience if you decide you want to use your degree after hockey.
After hockey. Is she really thinking that far ahead or is this her way of saying she thinks my career is bullshit?
Me
Thanks. I’ll think about it.
Clutching my phone in one hand, I let my mind wander. Sloane has popped in and out all day, but I’m surprised when my thoughts veer back to her now. Did she see my hat trick? I know she at least sort of follows the team via Whitney.
I wish I could thank her for the banana again. She probably thinks it’s as dumb as my teammates do, but it made all the difference tonight. I could text Whitney and ask for Sloane’s number, I suppose, but she said she was going to the reunion tonight.
Or…
I sit up straighter in my chair. That’s it. The reunion. I had zero plans to attend, but it might be worth it to thank Sloane. And chat with her some more. Last night we kept getting interrupted and I could tell she was a little overwhelmed around all my friends and the people in the bar.
She was always on the quieter side. For all the years we went to school together, I rarely heard her talk unless it was answering a question in class.
We were both in advanced studies, so our schedules overlapped a lot. She sat in the front and took notes. She had this purple pen – or likely several of the same one – that she used all the time. I have no idea why I remember that.
But outside of classes, I rarely saw the girl.
I know she took art as her elective, and she helped with costumes for the drama club, and that she dated my buddy Kirk for a few months during junior year.
She came with him to a couple hockey parties before he broke up with her for some girl on the cheerleading squad.
I was with Emily then. Yikes. That girl was drama.
It takes some effort to find the email with the details, but when I do, a smile stretches across my face. I don’t know what to do about my mom, but tonight I have other plans.
Starville High, here I come.