Chapter 130 Chapter 130

Chapter 130 Chapter 130
I used to think every arena smelled the same.
Cold air. Freshly resurfaced ice. Rubber mats worn smooth by thousands of skates.
Coffee clutched by nervous parents who had spent hours on the road chasing one more game, one more dream.
But I was wrong.
The Regional Sports Complex smelled different.
It smelled like pressure.
The automatic doors slid open, and the noise wrapped around me before the cold ever could.
Announcements echoed overhead, bouncing off the high steel beams that stretched across the enormous ceiling.
Equipment bags rumbled over the polished floor.
The sharp scrape of skate guards against concrete mixed with excited chatter from families and students who had travelled from all over the region.
Volunteers hurried past carrying clipboards.
Referees walked briskly toward the officials' room, their expressions calm and unreadable.
A television crew adjusted a camera near the entrance while a reporter rehearsed his opening lines under his breath.
The whole building seemed alive. It pulsed with anticipation, hope, fear and dreams that had taken months—some even years—to reach this point.
I adjusted the camera hanging around my neck before tightening my grip on my notebook.
My palms were already beginning to sweat.
Not because I was playing.
Because somehow...
This tournament mattered to me now, too.
"This place is huge," Sofia whispered beside me, slowly turning in a circle as she admired the arena.
"It feels bigger than North Ridge."
"It is," I murmured.
She glanced sideways at me.
"You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The one where you completely disappear into your own head."
I frowned.
"I do not."
"Oh, please."
She laughed softly.
"You've been staring at people for the last five minutes without actually seeing them."
"I've been observing."
"Same thing."
"It isn't."
She folded her arms dramatically.
"Let me guess."
"You've already started writing tomorrow's article."
A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.
"I haven't written a word."
"But you've written the first paragraph in your head."
I sighed.
"...Maybe."
"I knew it!"
She pointed at me triumphantly.
"You journalism people are honestly terrifying."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You shouldn't."
We both laughed quietly. It felt good.
For one small moment, the pressure surrounding the semifinal melted away.
Then the familiar blue-and-silver bus rolled to a stop outside the glass entrance.
Almost instantly...
The atmosphere changed. Conversations softened. Heads turned and students from different schools stopped walking.
Parents looked up from their phones.
Even the volunteers paused for just a second.
"They're here."
"Western Helms."
"The team that knocked out North Ridge."
"I watched that game online."
"Their captain is unbelievable."
"I heard Coach Bennett completely rebuilt that program."
The whispers travelled through the lobby like ripples spreading across water.
I found myself smiling.
Months ago...
Those same whispers had been filled with doubt.
"Western Helms won't make it."
"They're rebuilding."
"They're too inexperienced."
Now...
People weren't wondering whether Western Helms belonged.
They already believed they did.
The bus doors opened. Coach Bennett stepped down first.
He didn't acknowledge the whispers or look toward the cameras. He simply stood beside the bus, waiting patiently for every player to step onto the pavement.
One by one they climbed down.
Ryder adjusted the strap of his hockey bag before quietly taking in the size of the arena.
His face remained calm and steady.
If he felt nervous, he never let it show.
Behind him, Blake jumped down from the bus and immediately reached back to help one of the younger players with an equipment bag that looked almost as big as he was.
The freshman muttered an embarrassed thank-you.
Blake simply shrugged.
"No point throwing your back out before the game."
The boy laughed nervously.
Watching the interaction made me smile.
Even Blake had changed. Not completely though but enough for me to notice.
The rest of the team followed.
They walked together without anyone needing to tell them to.
Nobody tried to stand in front or tried to be the centre of attention.
Somewhere along the season...
They had stopped becoming individual players.
They had become a team.
Coach Bennett waited until everyone had gathered around him.
He didn't raise his voice. Coach never needed to.
"Eyes on me."
The chatter inside our group disappeared immediately.
Coach slowly looked at every player.
Then he swept his gaze across the enormous sports complex.
"This building doesn't know your names."
Nobody spoke.
"It doesn't know who scored against North Ridge."
"It doesn't know who made the winning play."
"It doesn't care."
His eyes settled briefly on Ryder before moving across the rest of the team.
"Every school that walked through these doors believes they're going home with a trophy."
He paused.
Long enough for the words to settle.
"So stop worrying about what people are saying about Western Helms."
Almost instinctively, several players glanced toward the spectators still watching them.
Coach noticed.
"They'll cheer for you today."
"They'll cheer against you tomorrow."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Crowds change."
"Character doesn't."
Silence.
"We're not here because we beat North Ridge."
"We're here because we earned another opportunity."
He pointed toward the corridor leading deeper into the arena.
"So walk through those doors with humility."
"Walk onto that ice with confidence."
"And when the final whistle blows..."
His voice softened.
"...make sure you leave knowing you gave everything you had."
A quiet determination settled over every face.
"Yes, Coach."
Their answer came together very strong and certain.
Coach nodded once.
"Let's go."
The team began moving toward the players' entrance.
I was about to follow when something shifted at the far end of the lobby.
It wasn't loud.
It was almost the opposite.
The conversations gradually faded.
A pair of referees straightened.
An opposing coach offered a respectful nod.
Several players from another school instinctively stepped aside without being asked.
Curious, I followed everyone's gaze.
A tall player wearing Crescent Academy's deep green jacket walked through the entrance with an equipment bag slung over one shoulder.
He wasn't laughing or trying to impress anyone.
He wasn't demanding attention.
Yet somehow...
Attention followed him anyway.
His teammates naturally fell into step behind him, not because they had to...
But because they trusted him.
He paused briefly to thank the volunteer holding the door open before helping another teammate whose stick had slipped from his shoulder.
Small and simple gestures.
Yet they said more about him than any newspaper article ever could.
Sofia leaned closer until her shoulder brushed mine.
"Is that...?"
I nodded before she could finish.
"It has to be."
At almost the exact same moment...
Ryder stopped walking.
Across a crowded lobby filled with strangers, conversations and impossible expectations...
The captain of Western Helms met the eyes of the captain of Crescent Academy for the very first time.
Neither smiled or looked away or tried to intimidate the other.
They simply looked. Captain to captain. Leader to leader.
And in that quiet exchange...
The semifinal no longer felt like tomorrow's game.
It had already begun.