Chapter 19 #2
I watch Melissa for a moment as the number begins—a K-Pop song the girls insisted on using.
She's on today, thank goodness. She and Mal are the centerpieces of the choreography, and it is immediately apparent that they're on a level beyond the other girls.
Which is an important part of the balancing act of the choreography—showcasing their talent without making it the Mal and Mel show.
The number goes off without a hitch, and the girls are filing off the ice to more thunderous applause. And then I lead the whole group of Juniors and All-Stars out onto the ice for bows and a single-file lap around the boards, oldest girls first.
And then it's finally over, and the girls are changing. I make sure each of my girls goes home with flowers, and I give the lone teddy bear to Katja, my youngest skater—only five and a precious child with more bravery than balance, at the moment.
Once the girls are changed and settled with parents—and friends for the older girls—I'm finally free to find my own seat. Mal is with Nicola and Gemma in the unofficial student section behind one of the nets; Alaina has a seat saved for me behind the Fire Department bench.
A bro country song blares from the speakers as Tony, affectionately known as Zamboni Tony, takes the machine around the ice again in preparation for the imminent start of play.
He's been operating that machine for as long as anyone can remember, and shows no signs of retiring any time soon, even though he's older than Methuselah.
Zamboni Tony makes his last pass down the center and off the ice, the doors close behind him, and the lights dim and the music fades.
Benny, the announcer, starts his spiel, introducing the cops’ starting lineup with his usual vocal panache, growling and drawing out names into roughly forty-seven syllables.
As each name is called, the players take the ice and run a partial loop to center ice and then to their box.
"Aaaaaaand last but most certainly not least, you all know him, you all love him…" the area starts to rumble, at this point, "he's your Tomlin Falls most beloved firefighter and everyone's second-favorite hockey player…NOOOOOOOOOO-AHHHHHH Austin!"
Laughing at Benny's joke, Noah strides onto the ice, bareheaded with his helmet dangling from one hand and his stick raised in the other, taking a slightly longer trip around the rink as the crowd showers him with love.
He skates to the FD box and joins the starting lineup in a huddle around Noel, who's giving them a pep talk, followed by a review of their opening play, judging by the gesturing at the handheld whiteboard.
The refs—hired from out of town so as to preclude favoritism—have their own brief huddle, and then the head official indicates it's time to start.
The players take their positions around the faceoff circle—Noah versus Abe McLanahan, a six-year PD veteran who played for a farm team in Detroit before relocating here.
The arena goes tense and silent in the moments before puck-drop.
There's a quick slash of sticks on ice, and the puck bounces backward between Noah's feet.
Sampson, the right winger, knocks it further back into the FD zone as the players scramble for position.
Tag, the FD left wing, scoops the puck, dribbles around a defender, passes it back to Sampson, who's immediately checked hard by McLanahan, and the puck wobbles loose as the two players briefly tangle.
Noah zips across the blue line with the puck, Tag sprinting at his heels.
The two forwards hold in the neutral zone for a couple of beats, waiting for Sampson to get free and join them before crossing into enemy territory.
The PD team's defensemen are there, aggressively battling for the puck as the FD offense tries to move the puck closer to the net.
A defender kicks it away from Noah, and the puck skitters behind the net—Duchesne, the PD goalie, whacks the puck high along the boards and out of their zone, and it's a race after it to the opposite end.
The teams, as always, are incredibly evenly matched, and the first period flies by without a score, although both teams put some good shots on net. The cops came closest to scoring, actually, from a bullet of a one-timer by McLanahan; only a lucky ricochet off the crossbar kept it out of the net.
It's hard to watch anyone but Noah. He's everywhere, battling for the puck behind the net, sprinting from zone to zone, intercepting passes, checking opposing forwards before they can get the puck, and winging shots from all angles. Duschesne, the Police Department’s goalie, is a wizard in the net, blocking every shot with apparent ease and diving to prevent the firefighters from capitalizing on loose pucks.
At the end of the first period, it's zero-zero, with the cops having a slight advantage in terms of shots on net.
As the players head for the locker rooms between periods, I watch Noah—he's the last to leave the box, slapping each player's helmet as they pass him, giving them a quick word of encouragement.
He and Noel head for the locker room together, and I see Noel using hand gestures to explain something to his father, with Noah nodding now and then.
An instant before he vanishes, Noah stops, turns, finds me, and gives me a wink. Absurdly, my stomach gives a little flutter.
Beside me, Alaina gasps, hands flying to her mouth. "No!" she hisses, eyes wide. "Morgan Wheeler! You're holding out on me!"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Alaina," I say, voice even.
"Noah Austin just winked at you."
"He's very friendly?"
She leans close. "I've been your best friend for over twenty years, Morgan. If you don't spill the tea right the fuck now, we're fighting."
I sigh. "It's…new. Sort of."
"And?"
I shrug. "And what? We don’t have boxes or labels at the moment. We're still figuring things out."
"But you don't even bother to tell your very bestest friend anything?" she demands, sounding genuinely hurt.
"Alaina," I say, hugging her one-armed. "I needed to keep it to myself—we needed to keep it private for a bit, okay? I've only talked to Mal about it, and I’m not sure if Noah has even told Noel, although I’d be surprised if he didn't."
"But there is something to tell?"
"Yes, there is. We're…together." I cover her mouth before she can squeal again. "Surely you can understand why we'd want to keep it private for a while before we went public with it."
"Well, yeah, obviously,” Alaina says. "But I'm not the public.
I held your hair when you were puking from morning sickness with Mallory.
I was there with the wine after you served your cheating sleazebag of an ex the divorce papers.
I've been there for every major life event since you were twenty-five years old, Morgan. "
I sigh again. "I'm sorry, Alaina. I…I had a hard time letting anything happen. It's still an effort to not panic at how good things feel, you know?"
"It's good, though?"
I widen my eyes. "So good, Al. You don't even know."
She covers her mouth and nose with her hands, squealing and stomping her feet like a teenager—she was always the squealer of our friend group, with a loud, boisterous laugh and a contagious exuberance for just about everything. "Morgan, c'mon. I need something."
"Let's just say that I feel more like the Morgan Wheeler I used to be than ever, in a very, very good way."
She gives me a not-entirely-playful shake. "DETAILS, woman!"
"Alaina…" I look around, dropping my voice to a whisper so she has to huddle up against me. "He's made me feel things I didn't know were possible."
"Because you've been an incel the last eighteen years, babe."
"ALAINA!" I snap. "Rude."
"But accurate." She arches an eyebrow at me. "Your cave of wonders had cobwebs."
I tilt my head to one side, conceding the point. "You're not wrong." I bite my lower lip. "No cobwebs anymore, though."
"Got your pipes cleaned, did you?"
"Alaina, gross!"
She just laughs. "I've picked up some fun phrases from Luke. The boy doesn't know how loud he gets when he's gaming with his buddies."
"You can keep those to yourself, thanks," I say.
She cackles again while leaning against me, the laughter subsiding with a long sigh. "I'm happy for you, babes. Really and truly. Noah is one of the best guys I know, and you deserve it." She tilts her head to one side. "So does he, honestly."
"Thanks, Al."
"How does Mallory feel about it?"
"Oh, she's all in. She loves Noah, if only because he encourages her hockey obsession."
"Oh, dear." Alaina is privy to the ongoing conflict on that topic.
"I think I'm softening, actually," I tell her. "I'm considering letting her play."
Alaina doesn't answer immediately. "I've kept my opinion to myself all these years, because I've always understood where you were coming from."
"But?"
“But in my experience, the harder you try to keep your kid from something they really want, the more it backfires.
I tried everything I could think of to get Luke to go to college or get a real job instead of this influencer business.
" She shrugs. "Turns out, he's making decent money doing something he truly enjoys.
Why anyone would want to watch him play video games, I'll never understand, but it's hard to argue when he has hundreds of thousands of followers and several pretty big-name sponsors. "
I glance at her. "Wait, really? I know Mal watches his stream sometimes, but I didn't realize he was making money from it."
"Oh yeah. Not, like, millions or anything, but a steady income." She leans in and stage-whispers. "He’s even thinking of finally getting his own place."
"Shocker," I deadpan.
She and her husband have been trying to gently encourage Luke to move out for at least a year and a half, to no avail.
Her husband appears with plastic cups of beer for all three of us, just in time for the second period to start.