Chapter 15 War On Ice
The buzzer shrieked. An indication that the game had begun. The teams filled out onto the ice. I pushed off, my skates carving deep lines on the ice. Every stride was filled with pain. My bruised ribs made my breathing difficult, my knuckles throbbing while I grabbed my stick making me grit my teeth.
“Move it, Barth! You’re skating like you are stuck in sand!” Coach yelled from the bench.
I ignored him, my eyes locked on the black blur of the puck as it was being tossed to and fro by the players.
We were in the second period, tied 1-1. Then, I saw an opening, there was a clear lane toward the opponent’s goal. I was in the slot, my stick ready. Ryan was bringing the puck up the right side.
All he had to do was tape-to-tape it to me and I would bury it in the net.
Our eyes met for a split second, his smirk was visible even behind his cage and I furrowed my brows in confusion.
What was he doing?
Instead of passing, he held on to the puck for a second too long, waiting for the defense to close in on me. When he finally flipped it, it wasn’t a pass. It was a straight on attack.
He sent it high and hard, forcing me to reach back and exposing my injured side.
CRACK!
I didn’t see the defenseman but I felt him. A heavy shoulder hit me right in the ribs, sending me flying backwards. I collided with the boards with a thud that made me gnash my teeth. The world blurred away and the roar of the crowd turned into a distant hum.
I gasped, my lungs refused to take the air I desperately needed. I slumped against the glass, trying to keep steady. I looked up ready to snarl at the ref but my gaze caught on something else.
Section 4. Row 10.
Yvonne was leaning forward, her face was pale as she stared down at me. She wasn’t cheering like the others, her small hands were pressed against the glass, her eyes wide with terror and concern.
The pity in her eyes bore worse into me than the pain I felt.
Don’t look at me like that, I thought. My rage began to fuel. I’m not a victim.
I shoved off the boards, ignoring the agony in my chest. The puck was loose near the blue line. Ryan was skating for it, his chest out, ready to be the man of the game.
I didn’t let him.
I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as I picked up a speed that couldn’t have been possible, the sound of my skates was loud against the ice. I blew past Ryan, my shoulder brushing against his, hard enough to make him stumble.
“My puck,” I hissed as I swept it up with my stick.
I didn’t look for a pass. I didn’t look for my teammates, I couldn’t even care less about the play. I dangled the puck through the legs of the first defenseman, the metallic taste of my blood returning to my mouth. I was at the top of the circles now. The goalie squared up but he was too slow.
I wound up for a slap shot, every muscle in my torso pulling at my bruised ribs. I leaned into it with everything I had tried to prove desperately to the girl in Row 10 that I wasn’t broken yet.
The sound was like a gunshot.
The puck blurred, a black streak that zipped past the goalie’s glove and buried itself in the top shelf of the net.
The red light flashed. The crowd exploded in cheers but I didn’t celebrate. I didn’t raise my arms. I stood there, chest heaving, leaning on my stick as my teammates rushed towards me in a celebratory stance.
Ryan tried to put an arm around me for the cameras but I shook him off, my gaze locked on the glass. I didn’t look at the scoreboard, I only looked at her. A smile was perched on her lips and I felt my lips also forming into a smile.
…
The team happily walked into the locker room, taking off their gears as they celebrated each other. I smiled as each of them tapped me on the shoulder as I sat down on the locker taking off my protective vest.
Ryan walked up to me with two other guys flanked at his sides, Ash and Brandon.
“Well played cap,” He said with a sly smile but I ignored him. His jaw tightened. “We both know I had that goal covered and you took it from me.”
My gaze locked on his as I narrowed my eyes on him. “Do not let me make a scene here, Ryan!”
“Or what?!” He growled.
Tennis walked over and stood between us and pushed Ryan back. “Back off Hathaway! We all saw what happened back there on the rink. You almost injured Barth! He was the one who saw the opening and all you had to do was pass the fucking puck but instead you threw it at him!”
“Yeah! We saw that!”
“That was a very bitchy move, Ryan.”
“You should apologize to Barth!”
“Yes, apologize!”
The others began to curse at him and I could see his face go red with rage and I smirked, shaking my head. I couldn’t bother myself with all these. There were a lot of things on my mind and arguing with Ryan wasn’t part of it.
“I really do not need an apology from Hathaway, guys. A little flea who tries to go into the mouth of an elephant will get crushed by its trunk.”
Ryan’s face immediately turned green and the others couldn’t hide their laughter. I walked out the room with my bag behind me towards the exit. All that was in my mind right now was to see her.
My heart skipped a beat as I saw the tiny figure standing right at the exit doors. Her eyes searched my body for any sign of injury.
“I’m fine,” I said and she heaved a sigh. “What are you doing here?”
“Uhm, I told Summer to wait in the car so I could get you. Would you like to ride with us?” She asked, playing with her fingers.
I have noticed that she does that a lot which means she’s nervous just standing here.
“No, I have my own car,” I said, waving my key and her shoulders dropped.
“Okay see you at home,” She turned to walk away. “And good game.”
“Thanks.”
I watched her walk away, her ponytail swinging. I didn't notice the shadow lingering by the lockers until a cold voice spoke behind me.
"Enjoy the win while it lasts, brother," Ryan hissed, his eyes dark with a promise of something much worse than a missed pass. "The party's just starting."