Austin
AUSTIN
W atching my teammates be bought with cheap beer, I can’t believe how fickle they are. I sip the first one Huntington put down in front of me and refuse to bow to his daddy’s credit card by accepting a second.
If these guys wanna be bought with beer, let them. As long as they do what they need to on the ice, I’m not gonna tell them what to do off it. I did ask them to give our new teammate a chance, and I guess that’s what they’re doing.
While I’m scrolling through my phone, wondering when it’ll be late enough to leave, a message pops up.
“Everything alright Donno?” Gray asks.
“Huh?”
He nods to the phone I’ve locked and slipped back in my pocket.
“Yeah.” I take a swig of beer. “Just gotta make a call. Be back in a sec.”
As I weave through the people at the bar, that message runs through my head.
Can you talk? x
I lean against the wall outside and look at the message for a minute before hitting call.
Alyssa picks up on the first ring.
“Hey,” she says. The familiarity of her voice makes me feel like I just travelled back in time. “I didn’t interrupt anything did I?”
“No, what’s up? Is everyone okay?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I run a hand over my face and remind myself to relax.
“I noticed you got a new teammate, from Yale.”
“Yeah.” So she’s checking the team news online? Or my ma told her.
Alyssa laughs. “Glad to see you’ve graduated from monosyllabic answers.”
I smile. “You know I’m shit on the phone.”
“I know-”
“Why did you wanna talk? Has something happened?”
“No, I told you, nothing’s happened I just… I miss talking to you, that’s all.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t have to say anything, I know you’ve got a lot going on, I’m not trying to... shit .”
“It’s fine. Honest. I miss talking to you too.”
“Yeah?”
That same confused, conflicted bubble in the pit of my stomach rears its head, but I force myself not to back out on her, again. “Yeah.”
She sighs. “Maybe next time you’re home we could hang out? That is, if Lisa doesn’t mind sharing.”
I bark a laugh. “I think Ma loves you more than she loves me.”
That word – love. Fuck, it feels heavy.
Alyssa laughs. “She’s really proud of you .”
My face gets hot at the praise and I scramble to change the subject. “She said you’re graduating next year.”
“Yep.”
“So you’re gonna go work in some fancy office or what?”
She laughs. “Yeah, hopefully.”
I nod. “Good.” There’s cheers inside the bar.
The pull of Alyssa’s familiar voice has gotten weaker over the past year. Now this is home. Those idiots in there are my family. But they’ll never be my real family. Real family doesn’t bail the second NHL scouts come sniffing round.
“I gotta go back in, the guys are drinking and-”
“Don’t say another word Captain, go make sure they don’t besmirch the school’s good name.”
I hang up and stay outside for a few minutes. Just as I’m about to go back inside, the door swings open and Huntington walks out, lighting a cigarette.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I snatch it out of his mouth before I even have a chance to think.
“What?”
“What? We don’t smoke.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re athletes for fuck’s sake.”
He shrugs, the expensive-looking khaki quilted coat pushing up on his shoulders. I throw the unlit cigarette into the gutter and he follows it with his eyes.
“Do you know how expensive cigarettes are these days?”
“I’m sure ‘Daddy’s’ credit card’ll survive.”
I brush past him on my way inside and he grabs my arm and pulls me back. My nostrils flaring as I stare him down.
“Why do you hate me Captain?”
Because you’re an entitled asshole?
“Every person on this team had to fight for their spot. There’s no room for anyone who doesn’t take it seriously.”
He frowns. “Who says I don’t take it seriously?”
“Your whole attitude-” He’s looking at me like I’m speaking Spanish or some shit and I realize I’m wasting my breath. “Forget it.”
I shrug him off and head back into the bar.
We’re on fire in our next home game against Union College. Despite a strong start from the visiting team, Olivetti is a steel cage, batting away every shot on goal like it’s nothing.
Every nerve in my body tingles when I win the puck in a neutral zone face-off and breakaway, my heart pounding in my ears, the goal straight ahead.
Our first line defense clears a path for me like a fucking snowplow and it’s just me against Union’s goalie. I’m so pumped on adrenaline, I barely notice the puck going in the back of the net until the lamp lights up and my teammates practically knock me to the ice.
After that, the floodgates open. A goal from one of our third line freshmen makes it two and Coach rotates the front lines out to give some of our seasoned benchwarmers some ice time.
I sit on the bench, catching my breath and drinking water, my knee bouncing as adrenaline pumps through my veins. If I could just stay on the ice 24/7, I’d be happy. No thinking about anything else. Just this. Pure adrenaline and the roar of the crowd.
I don’t even notice Yale sitting next to me until he leans in close says something. His voice makes me flinch, snapping me out of the good moment I’d been enjoying.
“Huh?”
“I said good goal Captain.” He slaps me on the back. He was complimenting me, right? So why does every word out of his mouth sound like a fucking insult?
Coach sends us both back out after another freshman scores our third goal of the first period. Union look defeated, but they’re not giving up yet.
We battle to the end of the period. Yale taking the first face-off and giving someone else his bullshit for once. I guess there is one silver lining to having him on our side.
In the second period, Union come out with everything to play for. I won’t be surprised if Olivetti’s saved forty-plus goals by the end of the game. He’s standing on his head out there. If ever anyone could be everywhere at once, it’s him. I just hope to fuck I don’t have to go up against him too many times in the majors. The thought of graduation, being a rookie again, makes my insides turn to ice. I focus on the game I’m playing right now. On winning the puck. Making sure every shot is on target.
After a goalless second period, we go into the third relieved, while Union look frustrated and out for blood. We just have to keep our cool. Hold our advantage. Come out of this game with a clean sheet. A fourth goal would be nice, but not essential. We lock up tight so Union can’t get shit through. Coach still mixing it up with the lines and putting Yale on before Gray gets a penalty for hooking.
Even on a power play, Union can’t get their shit together and I manage to breakaway, this time, I have more players to barrel through and get swarmed as I make it into the kill zone. I look up to see who’s with me, and of course, only Yale is free. I pass to him and he’s on it, scoring a beauty of a slapshot from the wing.
The home crowd go nuts and Yale comes barreling into me. The smell of his stupid cologne and sweat all up in my nostrils.
“Good shot,” I mumble. He skates away from me backwards, grinning like a fucking idiot.
Coach comes into the locker room after the game and everyone stops what they’re doing to pay attention. He’s not a loud guy. Not someone who has to throw their weight around, and I think the players respect him more because of it.
“I don’t have to remind you we play again tomorrow,” he says, a wry smile on his face. There are a few groans from a couple of the freshmen. “Don’t worry, you can celebrate when you kick UConn’s butts.
Cheers. I let myself get caught up in the mood. When I glance across the locker room, my gaze finds Yale and he’s looking right at me.