Chapter 136 Chapter 136

Chapter 136 Chapter 136
The horn sounded, signaling the start of the third period.
No one in the arena sat down.
Not the students balancing banners over the railings.
Not the parents gripping paper cups that had long gone cold.
Not the scouts whose pens hovered above their notebooks.
Everyone remained on their feet, their eyes fixed on the sheet of ice where two seasons' worth of sacrifice had been reduced to one final period.
One goal.
That was all that separated triumph from heartbreak.
I rested my notebook on my lap but didn't write.
Not yet.
Some moments deserved to be lived before they were recorded.
The referee skated toward center ice, glancing at both benches.
Ryder adjusted the cuff of his glove before rolling his shoulders once.
Across from him, Noah did the same.
Neither captain looked nervous.
They looked... ready.
The puck hit the ice.
Immediately, the pace changed.
The first two periods had been careful and measured.
This one wasn't.
Western Helms attacked with urgency.
Crescent answered with equal determination.
The sound of skates carving into the ice echoed through the arena as both teams chased every loose puck like it might decide their future.
Maybe it would.
"Boards!"
Lucas called.
Ryder heard him without looking.
He banked the puck off the glass just before a Crescent defender could pin him against it.
Lucas reached it first.
He spun away from a check and fired a quick pass toward Jake at the blue line.
Jake didn't shoot.
He sent it back down low.
The puck zipped behind the net where Ryder collected it once more.
Noah stayed with him. Not too close and not too far.
Ryder tried to step around him.
Noah matched him stride for stride.
The two captains circled behind the net like dancers who already knew each other's next move.
Finally, Ryder stopped. So did Noah.
For half a second...Neither moved.
Then Ryder smiled.
"So that's your game."
Noah's expression barely changed.
"You figured it out."
"I think I did."
Before Noah could react, Ryder slipped the puck between his skates and accelerated the opposite direction.
The crowd roared.
Noah recovered instantly, stretching his stick just enough to disrupt the pass Ryder attempted toward the slot.
The puck skipped harmlessly into the corner.
The whistle blew moments later as Crescent covered it.
Both players drifted apart.
As Ryder skated toward the bench, Noah called after him.
"You almost had me."
Ryder glanced back, breathing hard.
"Almost doesn't count."
A faint grin tugged at Noah's lips.
"I know."
Coach Berkeley leaned over the boards as Ryder approached.
"What changed?"
"He doesn't bite."
Berkeley nodded.
"No."
"He waits."
Coach Bennett folded his arms.
"So stop trying to make him."
Ryder frowned. Coach Bennett continued.
"If Noah won't leave his position..."
"...make someone else leave theirs."
Ryder looked back toward the ice.
His breathing gradually slowed.
Then...
A smile appeared.
"I've got it."
Coach Bennett didn't ask what he'd seen.
He trusted him.
High above the rink, I couldn't stop watching the two benches.
They couldn't have been more different.
Western Helms talked constantly.
Gloves tapped helmets.
Players encouraged one another after every shift.
Lucas laughed even after taking a hard hit into the boards.
Jake offered his water bottle to a younger teammate whose hands were visibly shaking.
Across the ice...
Crescent remained quieter. Whenever Noah returned to the bench, teammates leaned in to listen.
He never spoke for long.Sometimes just a sentence. Sometimes only a nod.
Yet every time they returned to the ice...
They looked completely certain of what they needed to do.
"They're mirrors."
The words escaped before I realized I'd spoken them aloud.
Sofia looked at me.
"What?"
I pointed my pen toward the ice.
"Western Helms and Crescent."
"They're different..."
"...but they're trying to teach the same thing."
She followed my gaze.
"Trust."
I smiled.
"Exactly."
I quickly scribbled another note.
Leadership isn't about being followed.
It's about making everyone believe they matter.
Something about that sentence felt important.
Maybe important enough for the final article.
Back on the ice, Crescent nearly struck first.
A turnover at center allowed Ethan Cole to race into Western Helms' zone with speed.
Jake chased desperately from behind.
"Inside!" Ryder shouted.
Ethan cut toward the middle.
He snapped a wrist shot through traffic.
Ethan, the Western Helms goaltender, barely saw it.
The puck struck his shoulder and ricocheted high into the air.
For one terrifying second...
Nobody knew where it had gone.
Then it dropped. Right in front of the crease.
Green jerseys charged.
Blue jerseys collapsed.
Sticks clattered.
Bodies collided.
Someone fell.
The puck bounced free again.
"No!" Sofia gasped.
Lucas launched himself across the blue paint, sweeping the puck away just before a Crescent forward could reach it.
The clearance wasn't pretty.
It barely reached center ice.
It didn't have to.
The Western Helms supporters erupted into thunderous applause.
Coach Berkeley finally exhaled.
"That was too close."
Coach Bennett's eyes never left the ice.
"Games like this usually are."
....

The clock continued to move.
9:14 remaining.
The scoreboard still glowed.
Western Helms 1
Crescent Academy 1
Neither team had blinked or looked ready to.
But deep inside...
Everyone could feel it.
The next mistake..or next brilliant play...or next bounce of the puck...
Might decide who kept chasing a championship.
And who watched their season come to an end.

\~~~
The game refused to slow down.
Every whistle was followed by tired players bending over their sticks, stealing whatever breath they could before the puck dropped again.
Helmets glistened beneath the arena lights.
Jerseys clung to sweat-soaked shoulder pads.
Even from the press box, I could see the exhaustion settling into every stride.
This wasn't the clean, energetic hockey of the first period anymore.
This was survival. I glanced at the clock.
7:42 remaining.
Beside me, Sofia folded her hands together.
"I've officially forgotten how to breathe."
A nervous laugh escaped me.
"I think the whole arena has."
She wasn't wrong.
Nobody sat anymore.
Not even the scouts.
The next faceoff came deep inside Western Helms' zone.
Ryder crouched low, his stick resting lightly against the ice.
Across from him, Noah mirrored the stance.
The referee looked at both captains.
Then dropped the puck.
Ryder tied his man up just long enough for Jake to sweep the puck behind the net.
"Reverse!" Ethan shouted from his crease.
Jake obeyed immediately.
Lucas collected it along the right boards and chipped it into open ice.
Ryder accelerated. His legs screamed in protest but he ignored them.
One defender stepped up. Ryder slipped past him.
Another closed the gap.
He pushed the puck forward one stride farther than usual, forcing the defender to turn his hips.
It was enough.
Western Helms entered the zone with numbers.
The crowd rose.
"Three on two!" someone yelled behind me.
Lucas drove hard toward the net.
Evan trailed high through the middle.
Every eye inside the arena locked onto Ryder.
Including Noah's.
The Crescent captain glided backward, reading every movement.
He already knew what everyone expected.
Ryder would shoot.
The goalie expected it.
The defense expected it.
The fans expected it.
Even I expected it.
Instead...
Ryder slowed.
The hesitation pulled Noah one step closer.
Another defender drifted across to block the shooting lane.
Exactly what Ryder wanted. His wrists turned.
The puck slid backward. Not to Lucas.
To Evan completely unnoticed.
"No way..." Sofia whispered.
Evan didn't stop to think.
He leaned into the puck and fired.
The shot screamed through a maze of skates.
The Crescent goaltender reacted instantly, kicking out his right pad.
The rebound exploded into the slot.
For one chaotic heartbeat, nobody controlled it.
Blue.
Green.
Blue.
Three sticks slashed toward the loose puck.
Lucas got there first. He didn't try to lift it or try to be fancy.
He simply snapped it toward the open side of the net.
The red light flashed.
For a second...
Silence.
Then the arena erupted.
The sound hit me like a wave.
Students threw their banners into the air.
Parents embraced.
The Western Helms bench exploded over the boards, pounding their sticks against the glass.
Lucas dropped to one knee, shouting at the top of his lungs before Ryder reached him.
"You did it!" Lucas laughed.
Ryder grabbed him by the helmet, pulling him into a fierce hug.
"No."
He was laughing too, almost breathless.
"We did."
Jake crashed into them.
Then Evan.
Then the rest of the line.
I quickly scribbled into my notebook, my handwriting barely readable.
"The pass mattered more than the shot."
That was it.
That was the story.
Not the goal.
The decision.
Months ago, Ryder would've forced the shot himself.
Today...
He trusted someone else.The scoreboard changed.
Western Helms 2
Crescent Academy 1
2:58 remaining.
Coach Berkeley clapped once.
"Stay sharp!"
Coach Bennett remained remarkably calm.
"Nothing changes."
The players immediately nodded.
Nobody celebrated for long.
The game wasn't over.Not against Crescent.
As expected, Noah gathered his teammates near the bench.
His voice stayed low, calm and steady.
"We've got time."
One player sighed heavily.
"They're collapsing the middle."
"So we stretch them."
Another nodded.
"What if they ice it?"
"Then we win the next draw."
There was no panic only belief.
Watching him, I understood something else.
Leadership wasn't about preventing adversity.
It was about steadying people when adversity arrived.
The final two minutes felt endless.
Crescent attacked with everything they had left.
The puck barely left Western Helms' zone.
Jake blocked one shot with his shin.
Lucas absorbed another off his shoulder.
Evan cleared the crease twice.
Every whistle was met with louder cheers than the last.
Coach Berkeley constantly rotated fresh legs over the boards.
"Short shifts!"
"Keep talking!"
"Nothing fancy!"
The instructions were brief.
Clear.
Exactly what the players needed.
"Goalie's coming!"
The shout echoed from Crescent's bench.
Their netminder sprinted toward the bench as another skater jumped onto the ice.
Six attackers.
Five defenders.
The arena stood as one. Even the air felt heavier.
Noah controlled the puck near the blue line.
His eyes searched.
Left.
Right.
Middle.
The passing lanes vanished almost immediately.
Western Helms stayed compact. Exactly as Coach Bennett had taught them.
Noah fired a pass toward the slot.
Jake stretched every inch of his stick.
Tick.
The puck deflected harmlessly into the corner.
Thirty-eight seconds. Another scramble.
Bodies crashed against the boards. Lucas fought to pin the puck.
Green jerseys dug furiously. The puck squirted free. Ryder reached it first.
He didn't look toward the empty net.
He looked toward the clock.
Twenty-one seconds.
Rather than forcing a miracle shot from his own zone, he banked the puck safely off the glass and deep into Crescent territory.
Coach Bennett smiled quietly.
Smart.
No unnecessary risks.
Just smart hockey.
"Ten!"
The Western Helms supporters counted together.
"Nine!"
The puck returned once more.
"Eight!"
Ethan gloved it and immediately froze play.
The whistle echoed.
Faceoff.
Defensive zone.
Six seconds.
Everyone stood. No one blinked.
The referee dropped the puck.
Ryder tied up Noah.
Jake swept it behind the net.
The horn blasted through the arena.
For the briefest moment...
Nobody moved.
Then realization washed over them.
Western Helms had done it.
Helmets flew into the air.
Lucas tackled Ryder so hard they both crashed onto the ice laughing.
Jake wrapped both arms around Ethan.
Coach Berkeley punched the air before catching himself, laughing under his breath.
Coach Bennett simply closed his eyes.
Just for one second.
When he opened them again, pride shone quietly across his face.
They hadn't just won a semifinal.
They had become the team he'd believed they could be.
I closed my notebook slowly.
My article already had its ending.
"Today, Western Helms didn't simply earn a place in the Regional Final."
"Today, they proved that leadership isn't measured by who scores the winning goal."
"It's measured by who trusts someone else to."
I smiled to myself.
For once...
The story had written itself.