Chapter 6 The Game

Chapter 6 The Game

CASSIAN’S POV

The puck dropped, but I was already behind.

It was the first shift, and we were fifteen seconds in. I over skated the pass, stumbled and watched the winger blow past me. I recovered immediately and chased, with my stick in the lane and my body well angled, doing everything right except the one thing that mattered.

The opposing team scored a goal.

One minute and seventeen minutes into the game, and I’d already given the opponents a chance to score, and they took the chance.

I slammed my stick against the boards in frustration, the vibration shot up my arms but I could barely feel it.

“Shake it off.” Raffi shouted from the net. “Focus on the next shift.”

The next shift came.

I carried the puck into their zone as soon as I saw an opening, and I drove hard into the net, their defenseman lined me up, and I knew I should have passed to an open teammate, but I wanted the glory, I wanted to prove to this cocky defenseman that I could beat him. I wanted to prove that I deserved the ice time.

I held the puck for a second too long, the defenseman hit me, clean and hard. I went down and the puck went the other way.

I lay on the ice for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the crowd roar as they rushed our net, I pushed up, and skated back. I got there in time to watch their center slam the puck into our net.

They were leading 2-0.

I looked at the bench, Coach Danton’s face was blank, he didn’t spare me a glance. That was way worse than him screaming at me.

The second period came.

I came out angry, I skated harder and pushed harder, I forced a turnover into their zone, drove to the net, took a pass from a teammate and I took the shot—

Their goalie saved it, I wasn’t surprised. It was a pathetic shot.

I wanted to scream in frustration but I held back.

They came back the other way, three on two, I was the only one at the back, I picked my angle and waited patiently for the pass.

——

The pass never came, the shooter went high glove, Raffi didn’t stand a chance.

3-0.

I stopped at the center ice, with my hands on my knees, breathing heavily. The arena noise faded away and all I could hear was the sound of my own heart beating furiously, telling me I was failing, and I didn’t belong here, telling me every fear I’d ever had was true.

Another shift came, and I made yet another mistake, I got another penalty from stupidly slashing, out of frustration, I had flung my stick when I should have kept it down.

I sat in the penalty box and watched them score on the power play.

4-0.

The guy next to me, a fan of the opposing team leaned over the glass and said something I didn’t catch, but I caught the laughter that followed.

The fourth line took my next shift, then the third. Then I was back out in the third period. We were down by four goals, I was desperate to do something, anything to make this game mean something.

I got the puck at their blue line, and drove the net. I saw Torin coming in, he was wide open, waiting for me to pass—

I took the shot instead.

Their goalie laughed in contempt as he caught it.

Torin looked at me, without saying anything. He didn’t have to.

We scored two goals in the third, it wasn’t me who scored it, it was two other guys who deserved it; guys who didn’t choke each time the puck touched their stick.

Coach took me off the ice, but in the final moment, he waved me onto the ice for one more shift, one more chance

I went over the boards and lost my man immediately, I chased him and caught up, I poked the puck free and moved with it, I had an open lane to the net, I angled my body—

And fell.

I tripped over my own feet, and fell like a rookie at his first practice, the play went the other way and the horn sounded.

Toronto - 4, Us - 2.

I stayed still on the ice as everyone else skated off.

The Toronto players celebrated as their fans cheered.

The ice cleared until I was left alone, standing at the center ice and staring at nothing.

I’d played two hundred and seven games in my entire career, juniors, preseason and regular season. But, I had never felt so utterly useless before.

Two goals against, two penalties, three turnovers and zero points.

It was my worst game ever.

The Zamboni doors opened and the maintenance crew came out, staring at me in confusion.

I skated off.

——-

The tunnel stretched on as I skated.

My legs were moving but I couldn’t feel them, I could barely feel anything except the weight in my chest, the pressure behind my eyes and the clips of everything I’d done wrong playing on repeat in my mind.

I got to the locker room door, pushing through with dread.

It was chaotic.

Sticks were slammed, voices were raised, someone kicked a trash can, and it clattered across the floor, spilling its contents. Danton stood in the middle, his voice raised as he tore into everyone.

I didn’t hear any of it; I found my stall and sat down, unlacing my skates immediately.

My hands were shaking so bad that I could barely get the knots.

I pulled at them, ripped at them even, but nothing. I pulled harder and the lace dug into my fingers, I couldn’t breathe or think, all I could do was sit there with my head bowed and my hands shaking as the replay of every mistake burned through me.

First shift, fifteen seconds in, first goal.

I held the puck for too long, another goal.

There was a penalty and then a power play, goal.

There was an open net, and I fell.

Around me, the noise faded into static, players filtered out to the bus that’d take us back to the hotel; the loss was already behind them.

I still sat there, not moving, just staring into the space where my failure had happened, I was unable to leave, escape or do anything except feel the weight of my failure.

Then I heard breathing.

It was steady, coming from two stalls away.

I didn’t look up, I already knew who it was.

I knew the weight of his stare now, the way he filled up a room without even trying, how his presence made the air feel heavier and hotter.

Torin.

He didn’t speak or move, he just sat there, breathing in the same air and existing in the same space.

Minutes passed and I couldn’t take it anymore.

I looked up.

His eyes met mine immediately, like he’d been watching me the whole time, like he’d never looked away.

There was no pity or judgment in his eyes, just quiet comfort.

“You can go.” My voice came out in broken rawness. “You seem like you have better things to do than watch me fall apart.”

He shook his head. “This is part of the job as Captain; sitting with teammates after a bad game.”

He paused, letting the words hang.

“The not being alone.”

My breath caught as something cracked in my chest.

“Who said I’m alone?”

“I said.”

Two words, simple and true.

I stared at him and he stared back; his eyes steady and unblinking, like he could see through me.

I looked away first.

My head dropped and my shoulder shook as my emotions threatened to overwhelm me, then I got it under control.

We sat in silence for a long time, time seemed to stop here. All that existed was the hum of the ventilation, the drip of a forgotten shower, and the weight of him beside me.

I thought about my father, how he’d call after games like this; not to comfort me, but to list everything I’d done wrong, tell me how much of an embarrassment I was to me, and then hang up before I could say a word.

I thought about all the people who had walked away at times when I needed them the most.

Then I thought about Torin, sitting there quietly, not saying a word.

Not leaving.

———

I eventually stood up, my legs shook and my head pounded as I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder and walked towards the door.

When I was almost at the threshold, I stopped.

“Tor?”

“Yeah?”

I didn’t turn around. If I saw his face, the emotions I’d managed to keep in check would bubble over.

“Thank you, for staying.”

He responded with a low tone.

“Get some rest, Pike; we have practice at nine.”

I almost turned to look at him, instead I walked out.

The hallway was empty; my footsteps echoed as I walked. I stopped when I got to the elevator.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, breathing slowly to calm myself.

My phone buzzed.

Torin: You didn’t play well today, it happens; don’t let it get to you.

Me: It got to me real bad.

Three dots appeared.

Torin: I know.

Me: How do you know?

There was a long pause before his response came in.

Torin: Because I’ve been there, I know what it’s like to feel one bad game proves every bad thing you believe about yourself, it doesn’t.

My eyes watered.

Me: How do you know what I believe?

Torin: I know because I watch you, and I see past the performance you put up.

I pressed my palm against my chest in a futile effort to calm my racing heart.

Me: It’s dangerous for me to let people see the real me.

Torin: I know.

Me: Then why do you still try?

Torin: Because someone should, and that someone is me.

The elevator arrived and I got in, I leaned against the wall as I watched the numbers change.

Me: So, I’ll see you in our room tonight?

Torin: Yeah.

I put my phone away as I got into the bus with my heart in my throat and something I couldn’t name shifting inside me.

I knew one thing for sure.

I wasn’t alone.

Not anymore.