Page 13 of Puck Me Back to Life

Winning puck battles.

Creating opportunities.

Every time he touches the puck, something happens.

I find myself smiling.

The guy looks like the player I used to watch on TV. The version I never got to see in person.

Every good play earns applause, and scattered among the applause come the boos.

Every single time.

I watch Hayes hear them. Watch him pretend not to. The effort it takes has to be exhausting.

By the second period, the opposing team starts testing him. That's expected. Players smell weakness and try to use it to their advantage. One of their wingers decides to make Hayes his personal project for the night.

The guy starts talking every shift.

Little comments.

Little digs.

Nothing obvious enough for a penalty.

Just enough to get under someone's skin.

Until—

“Hacker Haaaayes!”

No response.

“You planning on killing anybody tonight?”

I almost admire Hayes's restraint. Almost. Personally, I would've punched the guy twenty minutes ago.

The chirping continues. Hayes ignores every word. The winger gets increasingly frustrated. Which is usually how these things go. Bullies hate being ignored.

Eventually, they stop wanting a reaction, and they start wanting damage. The hit happens midway through the third.

The puck gets dumped deep, and Hayes chases it into the corner. The winger follows. I know what's coming before it happens.

The guy drives Hayes into the boards. Hard. Way harder than necessary. The glass rattles. The crowd gasps. For a split second, Hayes disappears beneath the collision.

Something inside me snaps.

I don't think.

I don't weigh consequences.

I don't consider penalties.

I just move.

One second I'm at the blue line. The next I'm grabbing the guy's jersey.

“What the fuck?” He barely has time to turn around.