Page 91 of Cross Check

I’m lucky to be eighth in line, and I watch the first couple of guys to see their strategies. The times are all over the place, from quick to slow as hell. One guy, Carter Wiley, who is Davis’s teammate out in California, makes a spectacle of his run. He poses for the cameras and pulls his jersey over his head when he lands the final goal.

“Nothing subtle about him, huh?” I ask Davis.

“If he weren’t such a good player, I’d kick his ass to high heaven,” he says. “You’re up, Everett. Good luck.”

“Thanks, man.”

I stand and head to the ice, waiting for the player in front of me to finish their run. His score is solid, but I know I can do better. Adrenaline pounds in my blood, and I glance around the crowd. When I find Amelia watching me from the edge of her seat, I straighten. She gives me two thumbs up, then points to her eyes, then the ground. I flip my stick and skate to the starting line with renewed excitement.

Time to put on a show for her.

The whistle sounds, and I take off. My first half of the event is blazing fast; I know I have a solid lead compared to where everyone else was at this point, but my backward skating slows me down. I almost fumble the puck, recovering it at the last second to spin forward and take off for the far goal. A quick breath and I’m launching a shot, relief flooding me when the puck hits the back of the net.

A glance at the Jumbotron tells me I’m in fourth with four skaters to go. Unless someone else has a stellar run, I should make it to the next round. I take my time getting off the ice, purposely skating past where Amelia is sitting and rapping my knuckles against the glass. She’s smiling my way, bright and bold and fucking beautiful.

I can’t hear her over the noise, but I can make out what she’s saying.

That was amazing, she mouths. Great focus.

Thanks, I mouth back, heading for the bench.

I hop over the ledge and take a seat, stretching out my legs.

“Nice showing out there, Rookie,” Carter yells, leaning forward to talk to me.

“I’ve been in the league four years, dude,” I answer. “But, thanks.”

I’m glad to make it to the next round, which might be my favorite. It’s a shootout against our pick of a goalie, and when it’s my turn, I select the young guy from Cincinnati.

My first shot on net gets blocked, and I pull my beanie lower.

“Focus, Everett,” I tell myself, pumping my fist when I score the second and third time.

The fourth shot barely goes in, and I lift my stick above my head as the final puck sails past the goalie’s blocker.

If I look at Amelia again while I celebrate advancing to the final round, I’ll lose my focus. I keep my attention on the guys who go before me in the challenging obstacle course. I categorize their mistakes, anticipating how I’m going to react to the situations when it’s my turn.

The nerves have settled by the time the announcer calls my name. I take a final look at the course and let go of the pressure. Hudson’s words from last season ring in my ears.

What a gift it is to play the greatest sport on earth with some of your best friends.

It guides me as the whistle sounds and I begin. I glide around the first corner, hugging the path that’s been laid out. I tap the puck through the targets before sinking three shots into mini nets. I skate around the pillars that have been set up, keeping possession of the puck as I approach the last goal.

Weak wrists, Amelia told me about my slap shot.

I pull back, winding up with as much intensity as I can. I look to my right, holding Amelia’s eye contact as I smirk and whip the puck forward.

I don’t need to watch it to know it goes in. I watch her instead, the parting of her lips and the grin she’s fighting off. She lifts one shoulder, a yeah, you did it, but I could probably do it better sort of gesture, and I have no doubt that she could.

Once all six skaters finish the obstacle course, I’m declared the winner. A league official gives me a shiny trophy and a big check for a million bucks, and I work my way through the crowd to find my friends.

“Goddamn, G. You were awesome out there. I took a video and sent it to the guys.” Maverick yanks off my beanie and ruffles my hair. “Skills champion, as you should be!”

“That was so good.” Emmy gives me a high five. “Where did you pick up all those moves?”

“Been working on a few things.” I snatch my beanie back from Maverick. “Watch out, Cap. One day I’m going to be a more decorated player than you.”

“In your dreams, kid,” he says.