25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE #4
Then he moves on.
The ceremony starts before any of this feels real.
Championship hats appear from somewhere.
Somebody shoves one onto my head while another person hands me a shirt with NATIONAL CHAMPIONS across the front.
Officials roll a stage onto the ice, photographers start clustering around center, and the arena announcer is saying things I can’t process because half our team is still yelling over him.
Then Benson’s name comes over the speakers.
That gets through.
Our end of the building erupts again.
Benson skates toward center ice while the rest of us crowd around behind him. He takes the trophy from the official, looks at it for maybe half a second, then lifts it over his head.
Everything around me gets louder.
Benson Reeve, twenty-two years old, captain of this team, holding a national championship trophy over his head in the jersey he has worn for four years.
I know I’m going to remember this exact moment forever.
He gets approximately four seconds before Stanley reaches over and takes the trophy from him.
Benson lets him.
By the time families are allowed down near the glass, we’ve taken so many pictures that I have lost track of who half of them were for.
I’ve skated a lap with the trophy, gotten pulled into three different group shots, and had at least six people clap me directly on the injured leg because apparently nobody in the building can see me limping.
Then I look toward the tunnel.
I find Gianna almost immediately.
She’s standing with her mom, crying hard enough that she keeps wiping under both eyes with the heel of her hand. The second she sees me, she starts climbing over something she absolutely should not be climbing over.
A staff member notices. He thinks about stopping her. Then he very wisely decides against it.
She reaches me at full speed and throws both arms around my neck.
“Ow.”
She lets go so fast she nearly falls backward.
“Oh my God.” Her hands go straight to my arms. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“You literally just said ow.”
“You got my leg.”
Her eyes drop. “What happened to your leg?”
“Puck.”
She looks back up at me. For one second, she just stares. Then her face changes completely.
“You’re a national champion.”
I smile. “Yeah.”
She pinches my ribs. “You’re a national champion, Rowan.”
“Yeah.”
“You fucking did it.” There are tears on her face again.
I put my hands around her waist and pull her closer. “I love you.”
Her whole expression breaks open. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“G.”
“One more time.” She’s smiling now, crying and smiling at the same time. “You just won a national championship. I get one more.”
I laugh. “I love you, Gianna Reeve.”
“I love you too,” she says. “Obviously. Oh my God.” Then she pulls me down by the back of my neck and kisses me over the boards.
There’s a camera somewhere nearby. Her parents are directly behind her. Somebody behind me is yelling my name. I don’t care.
When we finally pull apart, her mom hugs me next, which I am not prepared for, and her dad shakes my hand before putting the other one on my shoulder.
“Hell of a block, son.”
“Thanks.”
Then Benson comes through the tunnel, and the whole thing shifts immediately.
Gianna turns and launches herself at him. Their mom gets there next. Their dad follows. Lucy hangs back just long enough to let the family have him first.
I step away and let them.
Gianna finds me again a few minutes later and slides under my arm while we watch Benson finally reach Lucy.
For once, neither of us says anything.
By the time I make it back to the locker room, it’s already destroyed.
Music is loud enough to rattle the stalls. Water is everywhere. Half the team has lost their championship hats already, and Stanley is somehow missing most of his clothes. I don’t ask.
Coach comes through the door and gets drenched immediately. He stands there with water running off his jacket and waits until enough people notice him to quiet down. Nobody really does. He says something anyway. I catch maybe three words.
Everybody cheers.
I make it to my stall and finally sit down.
My thigh is throbbing hard enough now that I know tomorrow is going to be ugly.
The championship hat is still on my head.
The medal around my neck keeps knocking against my chest every time I move.
My phone has been vibrating beside me for twenty minutes. I still don’t pick it up.
Above my stall, on the shelf, is the snow globe Gianna gave me yesterday. Las Vegas skyline. Green alligator with sunglasses. I stare at it for a second longer than I mean to.
Across the room, somebody finds a marker. Stanley takes it. He walks to the board by the door and writes in huge letters over whatever had been there before.
NATIONAL CHAMPIONS.
Everybody starts yelling again before he even finishes.
Stanley steps back, considers it, then adds another line underneath.
WE WON THE FUCKING THING.
Percy says something in French from across the room.
Nobody understands him.
Everybody cheers anyway.