Chapter 127 Chapter 127
Chapter 127 Chapter 127
The morning after the quarterfinal victory didn't feel like the morning after a victory at all.
It felt...Busy.
By the time Sofia and I stepped out of the dormitory, the entire campus was buzzing with conversations.
Students crowded around the notice boards outside the administration building.
Someone had already taped newspaper clippings to the glass.
Others had their phones out, reading sports blogs that had begun talking about Western Helms' performance in the Regional Tournament.
I smiled despite myself.
The article hadn't even been published yet, and people were already reliving yesterday's game.
"There she is!"
A voice called from across the courtyard.
I turned to find three journalism students hurrying toward me.
One of them held up his phone.
"That interview with Coach Bennett..."
He shook his head in amazement.
"Mrs. Brooks let us read the draft."
"It was incredible."
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
"You read it?"
He nodded enthusiastically.
"I've never thought about hockey that way before."
Another student grinned.
"Second Chances Wear Blue?"
She placed a hand dramatically over her chest.
"That's a headline."
Sofia immediately folded her arms.
"I've been telling her she's talented."
I laughed.
"You've also been stealing my hot chocolate."
"That's unrelated."
"It absolutely isn't."
The group laughed together before heading off toward class.
Sofia nudged my shoulder.
"See?"
I looked at her.
"They're talking about your writing."
I looked down at the notebook tucked beneath my arm.
Not long ago...
I'd been terrified nobody would ever read my work.
Now...
People were waiting for it. It was a strange feeling. A wonderful one.
\---
The peace lasted less than ten minutes.
An announcement crackled through the speakers mounted across campus.
"Attention, members of the Western Helms hockey program."
Students immediately stopped walking.
"All players, coaching staff and Student Press assigned to tournament coverage are to report to the film room in fifteen minutes."
My heart skipped.
Film room.
That meant only one thing.
Our next opponent.
\---
The atmosphere inside the film room couldn't have been more different from yesterday.
Yesterday had been filled with celebration.
Today...
The celebration was gone.
The players filed in quietly, taking their usual seats.
Blake sat near the front.
The freshmen whispered nervously before falling silent the moment Coach Bennett entered.
Ryder arrived last.
He nodded politely to everyone before sitting beside Blake.
Coach Bennett closed the door behind him.
He didn't smile, he simply looked around the room.
"I'm proud of what you accomplished yesterday."
A few players smiled, then Coach continued.
"For exactly one night."
The smiles disappeared.
"Yesterday is over."
He walked toward the projector.
"The tournament doesn't remember yesterday."
"It only cares about the next game."
He clicked the remote.
The screen changed.
The Regional Tournament bracket appeared.
North Ridge Academy had been marked with a bold blue line.
Beneath it...
Another name waited.
Crescent Academy.
The room became noticeably quieter.
Coach Bennett folded his arms.
"Semifinals."
"No second chances."
"No easy shifts."
"No passengers."
He looked around the room.
"If you think yesterday was difficult..."
He slowly shook his head.
"...then you haven't seen Crescent Academy."
He clicked the remote again.
A new image appeared on the screen.
A young man wearing Crescent Academy's dark green jersey stood at centre ice.
Captain's "C" stitched proudly across his chest.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Calm.
His expression wasn't arrogant.
It was composed.
Coach Bennett let the room study the photograph before speaking.
"Noah Whitmore."
Nobody said anything.
Coach continued.
"Captain."
"Centre."
"Three-time Regional All-Star."
"He leads the tournament in assists."
Not goals.
Assists.
That caught my attention immediately.
"He doesn't chase statistics."
Coach picked up a laser pointer.
"He creates opportunities."
The projector changed again.
A game clip began to play.
Noah carried the puck through the neutral zone.
Instead of forcing his way toward goal, he slowed.
Waited.
A teammate skated into space.
The pass arrived perfectly.
Goal.
Another clip.
Noah blocked a slap shot with his shin before limping back to his feet.
Another.
His team conceded a goal.
Instead of shouting...
He gathered everyone together.
They scored less than two minutes later.
Coach paused the video.
"What do you notice?"
A defenseman raised his hand.
"He stays calm."
"Good."
Another player answered.
"He trusts his teammates."
Coach nodded.
"Good."
Blake leaned forward.
"He doesn't care who scores."
Coach smiled faintly.
"Excellent."
Finally...
Ryder spoke.
"He controls the pace."
Coach looked directly at him.
"Exactly."
The room fell silent again.
Coach Bennett switched off the projector.
Then he rested both hands on the desk.
"North Ridge tested your discipline."
He paused.
"Crescent Academy..."
His eyes slowly moved across every player.
"...will test your identity."
Nobody moved.
Coach continued.
"If you forget who you are..."
"You lose."
He looked toward Ryder.
"If you stop trusting one another..."
"You lose."
His gaze shifted to the freshmen.
"If one player tries to become the hero..."
"You lose."
The room had become so quiet that I could hear pens scratching across notebooks.
Even I had stopped writing for a moment.
Coach drew a slow breath.
"I've watched Crescent Academy play every tournament game this season."
His voice remained steady.
"They don't beat teams because they're faster or because they're stronger."
"They beat teams because they make them forget how they play."
He clicked the remote one last time.
The screen froze on Noah Whitemore again.
Coach looked back at his players.
"If we play the way we played yesterday..."
He paused.
"...we lose."
No one argued.
Even Blake, who usually had a quick remark ready, remained silent.
Ryder leaned back slowly in his chair, his eyes never leaving Noah's picture.
Whoever Noah Whitemore was...
He wasn't just another opponent.
He was about to become the greatest challenge Western Helms had faced all season.
And somehow...
Looking around the room at the expressions on Coach Bennett's face, Ryder's quiet focus, and every player sitting a little straighter than before...
I had the feeling this semifinal wasn't going to be won by talent alone.
It was going to be won by the team that remembered exactly who they were.