“Hey, stop spinning on it, and keep your head in your game. I was going to come by for the second half after I meet up with some of the guys. Maybe I shouldn’t, though.”
“No, I think the key is to act normal. I’ll mention something in passing and keep it light. Kendra is cool. This isn’t a big deal.”
“Okay.” He squeezed my hand, then opened the passenger door. “Wish I could kiss you right now. It would be a sloppy, wet one.”
I smiled. “Gee, I’m bummed I’m missing out on that.”
“You should be. See you tonight. And hey…no freaking out.”
9
I freaked out. It was a low-grade freak session that began the second I stepped into the locker room that night. There was a hum in the air I didn’t trust. It sounded like white noise and nerves, and there was no reason to be nervous, because the Ravens sucked. Tonight’s game was a glorified scrimmage. Nothing to worry about.
But something was wrong. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
Coach gave his usual pregame speech, then stepped aside to talk to Schultz while I gave a mini pep talk. It was something lame about not getting lazy even though we knew the competition wasn’t fierce.
“We’ll be fine as long as Troy keeps his legs closed,” I joked.
Troy flipped me off and sidled closer. “Don’t worry about me. Schultz has it out for you tonight.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I don’t know. He’s acting weird. Did something happen with you and Kendra?”
I huffed in exasperation as I reached for my helmet. “Geez, no! We’re not—”
“Hey, relax. I’m just the messenger. I think he’s making a move on her to piss you off and stir up shit. Don’t let him get to you.” He patted my back and moved to his locker to finish dressing just as Coach gestured Schultz and me over.
“What’s up, Coach?”
“We’ve got a couple of scouts in the crowd. Do your thing and remember, you make each other look good when you work together. No bullshit out there.” He nodded briskly, then headed for the exit.
I furrowed my brow and turned to Schultz. “What the hell did that mean?”
“He doesn’t want me to call you a faggot on the ice,” Schultz said matter-of-factly before fastening his helmet and pushing past me.
The entire team stared like they sensed a train wreck about to happen. Everyone knew the tracks were wonky, the weather was bad, and everything was moving too fast. But the momentum was building, and there was no way to stop the inevitable.
So, here’s the thing about me. I didn’t mind a good fight. Or even a bad one. I’d had my share of scars, bumps, and bruises from this game. Not much fazed me. If I felt backed into a corner, my natural reaction was to punch my way out. If someone was an asshole, you dealt with it then and there. It took me a while to grasp the difference between a good fight and a stupid one but, even I knew, I couldn’t do much about Schultz. Not now, anyway. It was game time.
We demolished the Ravens. It wasn’t much of a challenge. They were undermanned, and the guys they played were cautious to a fault. Stealing the puck from their forward was like taking candy from a baby. Schultz had two goals, and I had a hat trick by the end of the second period. Coach sat us both at the beginning of the third, and that was when things went south.
Schultz chugged a water bottle, then screwed the cap on it and gestured toward the stands.
“Your boyfriend’s here, Fish.”
I looked ’cause I’m an idiot like that, and yes, Sky had just arrived. He stood in the aisle and was about to take a seat when Kendra waved him over. I glanced sideways at Schultz and huffed.
“Fuck off.”
“At least you didn’t deny it,” he taunted. “What’s it like doin’ it with a guy? Are you on top or is he or do you take turns and—”
“Schultz, Fischer! New line,” an assistant coach called.
I grabbed my stick and stepped over Schultz, “accidentally” shoving him back on the bench when he stood. I glided onto the ice and skated toward the puck, passing it to Logan, then cutting off a defender so I had an open angle at the goal. Schultz moved in front of me and hedged me out just as the puck flew in our direction. He drove it home and let out a whoop as he sped around the ice for a victory lap with his fist in the air.
“What the fuck was that?” I growled as I skated beside him.
“That was called a goal, gay boy. I know you want to get another one for your man, but you gotta be quick out here.”
“You keep it up, I’m gonna kick your ass, Schultz.”