Chapter 13 Extra Credit Luna
Extra Credit
Luna
Maisie’s tugging a jersey over her head when I barge into her room. To be fair, the door was open. It’s hardly trespassing.
“I absolutely cannot go to the game this afternoon. I got a B on my classification test.” The strain of competing priorities is taking a toll on my grades now.
“Getting a B in one of those hellacious math courses still makes you the smartest person in most rooms. I don’t even understand what the names mean.”
“But I don’t get Bs. I don’t have a career playing hockey professionally to look forward to. Unlike the guys. We’ll have plenty of time to watch them on TV when they’re in the pros. Why should I wreck my chances at a future for them?”
One hand grips my shoulder, and the other tilts my chin up.
“I know how important school is. I get it. But do you think perhaps you’re being a little overdramatic?
Attending one game won’t destroy all your prospects.
Not to mention they showed up for us. Now I know you claim they did it for the optics, and while I’m sure that’s partially true, they did still show.
We can’t have our captain not showing up for her alleged boyfriend’s game.
” She gives me a sly look, lips twisted in a crooked smirk.
If she were trying to agitate me more, she’s doing a fabulous job of it.
“Don’t even. As if it’s not annoying enough having random people congratulating me on campus.
For what? Bagging the hottest hockey player on campus?
Or is it because he’s a Whitaker? And then nobody believes me when I tell them it’s not true. Complete and utter nonsense.”
“They think you’re dating me?”
That forces a snort out of me.
“We all know I’m the hottest hockey player, but I’m not ready to settle down. Sorry, Wild Thing.” Wild thing? The audacity.
“Whatever. I guess I’ve got to go. You’re probably right.” I stomp over to my closet and yank so hard on my jersey the plastic hanger snaps with a startling crack.
“I generally am. It’s a safe bet. No need to take it out on the poor hanger.”
“Whatever you say.”
I refuse the face paint Beth offers me when we’re passing her room. I’ll show up to support them as requested, but I’m putting zero extra effort into it.
“You’re wearing the wrong jersey,” she says to my retreating back.
I spin around, tugging at the shoulder to see the back. Did they get mixed up in the laundry?
“That one says Wilder. It’s supposed to say Whitaker.”
“Ha ha, you’re hilarious. Why don’t you go hang out with Maisie?” Maybe I’ll find a seat on the other side of the arena. Far, far away from my teasing friends.
Jenna looks up from her perch on the edge of the worn couch when I skid to a stop in front of her. “Not a word.” I put as much captainly authority into my tone as I can, but she’s not scared, just presses her lips together to contain her laugh.
It’s fine. Only a couple of hours. I can handle it. Might be a pleasant diversion. Take my mind off my subpar grade.
I’m not feeling it, but I know I need to keep the content machine churning, so I set up a tripod by the door.
“Wanna go first?” I ask Jenna, nodding at my phone on the stand.
“What are we doing?” she asks, jumping up from her spot.
“I told you. Making our bets on the game tonight. Who will win, how many goals total, and who is going to score.”
“Hopefully me. But more likely it’s going to be you.” Maisie appears beside me as if she teleported.
“This is a family-friendly show. Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a sweet, innocent angel.”
“Well angel, you’re going first.” I point to the camera. “And keep it PG. You know how prudish the algorithm is.”
“I got it. Totally no fun.” She’s all smiles when she steps up to the camera. “The Lightning will win, or they’ll have me to deal with. The score will be four to three, because Jenson has been looking a little distracted lately.”
“Lately?” Sab yells in the background. “That boy has the focus of a hamster.”
“Come on. Now we’ve got to film Maisie’s bit again. You know we can’t be trash-talking the other team.”
“It’s not trash talk. Friendly ribbing. I’m sure he wouldn’t even notice. He’s into any attention you give him. He’d probably be flattered.”
“Not making the cut.” I have to make the tough calls sometimes.
“Fine. I still think he’d love it, though.”
Beth nods. “I agree.”
Everyone cycles by the camera, making their predictions, and then I step in front of the screen.
I have to force myself to let go of the lip I’ve been gnawing at before I hit record.
“Hey, Wildlings. I’m going to have to agree with the rest of the ladies.
We’re definitely going to snag the W this afternoon.
Let’s say three to one. Jenson has come back from the holidays fresh, and he only let in one goal in their last game.
And as for who is going to score? I’m going to say Hail, Schaeffer, and one for Whitaker, but he’ll get at least one other assist.”
These are my favorite videos. Making predictions.
Running the stats is my happy place, second only to my time on the ice.
It’s why I want to make a career in sports data analysis.
The numbers make sense to me. Sometimes words are hard, but numbers are always reliable.
And a pro career in women’s hockey is a unicorn.
The new league starting up next year is an exciting step.
But with only six teams, the chances of landing a spot are somewhere in the realm of getting struck by lightning.
I need a solid, reliable career, not a pipe dream.
Once everyone has had their say, we spill out the front door in a jumble, piling into a couple of cars.
Some of the team came over to get ready together, and the rest of the ladies will join us at the game.
Maisie was right. I can’t let them one-up us.
If they’re going to show up for us, we’ll show up for them.
I’m leaning forward in my seat. My shoulders are tense as they grapple for the puck.
This is what the game is all about. Fast action, sharp plays, and teamwork.
I’ll give Whitaker that. His team works together seamlessly as if they’re sharing a hive mind.
Hail is ahead of the puck and in the perfect spot to receive Cole’s pass as he speeds toward the net.
It rebounds off the post, and I can almost hear the satisfying tink as it slips to the right where Beau is waiting and watching. He snags it, sending it into the net.
Maisie’s tub of mustard hits the ground in a bright yellow catastrophe as we leap to our feet, cheering on our school. Second goal of the game in the second period. One more, and I’ll be close.
I shift my legs to the left as I’m settling back in my seat to avoid the mess as Maisie leans over to swipe it up.
“If you call this one, I’m going to think you’re some kind of hockey wizard. You’ve called the scores of the last three games. This might be your hottest streak yet.”
Her curls bounce as she sits back up.
“What can I say? The numbers don’t lie. I’d love it if JJ shuts them out, but I still think Penn’s gonna get one past him. He’s having a phenomenal season, but he’s a little weak on his left side.”
“You’re such a nerd.” Jenna leans in to steal a handful of the forgotten bag of popcorn in my hand.
I laugh, yanking the bag away. “And proud of it.”
They skate down the clock to the end of the period, and I leap up at the sound of the horn. “I’m going to hit the restroom.”
Instead of fighting the crowd to get to the public restrooms in the lobby, I head for the players’ area. A random conversation catches my attention as I’m hopping down the stairs.
“She’s going to see Beau between periods. How adorable is that?”
“Why isn’t she wearing his jersey? If I were his girlfriend, I’d want to let everyone know he’s off the market.”
My jaw aches from grinding it so hard to keep from responding. Not the time or place. I’m already running ideas through my head on what type of video I can make to make it clear we’re just friends.
I wash my hands and touch up my makeup before heading back out.
I’m so focused on getting back, I don’t notice the player hurtling down the hall until he slams into me, sending me sprawling.
My head snaps back, hitting the floor. It’s a bit of a shock, but not too bad on the rubber-lined stretch of ground.
“JJ! What the fuck?” A shadow falls over me as I’m struggling to sit up. Beau’s concerned face comes into focus, and I grab the hand he’s holding out to pull me up. “Wilder? What are you doing back here?”
“Thanks. I was just using the restroom. Didn’t want to wait in line for the entire break.”
“Are you okay?” He drops to a squat, peering at me. His eyes are stunning this close up. A vibrant sky blue. Where did that thought come from? I must have hit my head harder than I thought.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve been hit way harder than that.”
“JJ. You dick. Get over here and apologize to Wilder. Otherwise, she’ll never let you star in any of her videos. Right?” He slides his hands up to rest on my forearms in a warm grip.
“That’s right. Blacklisted.” I smirk.
JJ has all the energy of an eager puppy as he bounces on his heels. “I’m so sorry, Luna. I didn’t see you. Want me to get you some ice?”
“Nah, I’m good. I should probably head back to the stands. Don’t want to miss the rest of the game.”
Beau’s fingers tighten on my arms, and a shiver runs through me. Not that again.
“You sure you’re okay? Maybe you should sit down for a minute. I can get the medic to check you for a concussion.”
His concern is kind of cute. “I’m good. But we need to talk about some things. Can we meet up tomorrow?”
“Of course.” His golden brows pull together. “Is something wrong?”
“No, but you’ve been kind of ghosting me, and we’ve got some things to plan out.
” Then there’s the whole dating rumor. Need to quash that before it spreads any further.
Just in case I happen across a guy in the five minutes between classes.
Wouldn’t want to give him the wrong idea.
My lips twitch. So not happening. Dating sounds like more work than I’ve got time for.
“Right. I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot going on. We can meet up. Shoot me a text. I promise I’ll reply.”
He reaches up to run a hand through the damp strands of hair falling over his forehead, and I study him again. He looks exhausted. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and his jaw is tight. Now I’m worried about him.
“Will do. See you tomorrow. Bye, JJ.” I wiggle my fingers at him.
“I’m so sorry, Luna. I really am.”
“It’s all good.” But I’m not sure it is. Something has shifted. I don’t know if it was Beau’s concern for me or those blue eyes, but there’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like the ground could drop out from under my skates at any moment.