He Shoots, She scores

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Weston | Good Luck Charm

Pressure clamps around me like a boa constrictor. Ever since the bus dropped us off at the Rickson Ridge campus, I've been passed around for hours like a trophy as I'm introduced to scout after scout. I've got various reps from the most recognized cities shaking my hand: New York Rangers, Boston Bruins, Pittsburgh Penguins, L.A Kings...as Coach Evans keeps reminding me, don't screw this up. With his son John still suspended for the rest of the season, Coach has been taking it easier on me. Not sure why. Either he realized it's useless to pit his dumbass of a son against me, or he came to his senses that after the next two games, I'll never see him again. But today he clamps me on the shoulder and wishes me luck. No pressure, though.

I'm skating laps around the rink along with my teammates for a warmup. Usually, I'm able to control my pre-game nerves, but with everybody counting on me tonight, it's harder than usual to contain. It's only when I look into the crowd and spot Wilson, Madison and Sage sitting front row and center that I'm able to relax. Wilson is leaned all the way back against the bleachers, courtesy of his bad spine. He's looking down at something, most likely doing the sudoku on the newspaper like he always does before the game starts. Madison has my niece on her lap and pretends to wave Sage's fingers. Madison mouths "Go Avery" like she does every game because she knows I hate my first name and that it always makes me laugh. This is the last night they're in town before heading to the roads. Although, she said she was supposed to leave a week ago, and yet she's still here. This is odd, but it's Madison, so I've learned not to question her actions.

Speaking of laughs, I hear an agonizingly familiar one that causes my whole body to pivot. I'm skating backwards now, edging closer to that voice. My back straightens and I speed up until I'm right next to the boards. Gracie. Immediately, all worries dissipate as I watch her take a seat next to Nessa. She's got a puffy jacket on along with some earmuffs that look so dorky I want to jump over the boards and kiss her right now. Right on cue, Gracie turns her head my direction and startles at the sight of me. She's in the seat closest to the penalty box so I'm still able to catch her widening eyes and the quirk of her brow. "You came" I shout through my helmet.

"Of course, I did" she yells back. Offended. This makes me smile. Gracie lets her lips twitch, not giving me the full satisfaction, before plopping down on the bleachers and crossing her legs. She seems astounded that I'm still here, immobile, plain staring at her. The other girls in the stands are whispering and giggling, probably thinking they're the culprits. They couldn't be more wrong. "You should get back to warming up" Gracie says. Some of her speech gets muffled by the skates slicing the ice and the announcer overheard barking campus events.

"I should." Yet my feet remain planted. RJ and Eli have skated over to me by now, yanking my arm away, which of course irritates me because staring at Gracie for the next ten minutes will give me more energy than any pre-game drills would.

"Come on, man, Coach is calling us" Eli hisses. RJ waves to Gracie and Nessa, and if I'm not mistaken, his gaze lingers on Nessa a smidge too long.

I let my eyes pry to Gracie one last time. To my delight, she hasn't lost eye contact with me either. "Good luck" she calls.

"I won't need it now that you're here, sweetheart." This elicits groans from RJ and Eli, and an eye roll from Gracie.

We skate off and join the hallway huddle where Coach Evans is busy hounding out a mixture of sports advice and life coaching. "You guys have worked hard this season. There's a lot of pressure riding on tonight, but don't let the crowd take away your attention. Eyes on the prize, boys. Go out there and kill it." He slaps a palm on his clipboard. We do our hands-in ritual, scream "1, 2, 3, Tulsa!" and shoot one another that look of fear and competition that says everything we need to.