Page 83 of Taking Sides

“Since when do you keep up with hockey?”

I finally snag my laptop from his grip and close the screen. “Since the boys on my team are obsessed. I have to know things, so they trust me.”

That part is sort of true, but I doubt any of my kids are expecting me to recite Conrad’s stats—though I now could, including, but not limited to, height, weight, eye color, and sexual preferences.

“They’re obsessed with Shepard?” Victor asks, but he snorts dismissively before I reply. “Figures.”

I sit back on the couch and hug my laptop to my chest. “What’s your deal with him?”

“He’s a total phony. He walks around with this ‘aw shucks’ routine and everyone falls for it. It’s annoying.”

“That’s it?” I ask, not able to hide my surprise. For all the hatred Victor has for Conrad, I thought something bigger must have happened between them.

“He’s fake as hell,” Victor says, voice rising, disgust coating his expression. “I can’t stand that performative bullshit. Trust me, he isn’t as nice as he pretends to be.”

My stomach dips and churns uneasily. Victor and I share a few more words before he leaves for the rink, but I barely follow it. I don’t want to keep this thing between me and Conrad from my brother, but how the hell am I supposed to tell him when that’s his reaction every time I mention Conrad?

“What do you think?” I ask Bella.

She flops her head back onto my leg with a harrumph. Looks like neither of us has any answers.

Two hours later, I stare at my reflection in the mirror while Bella lies on my bed.

“I wish I could stay here,” I say to her. She tilts her head to the side and whines.

I tug on the hem of my sweater and then smooth a hand down my brown suede skirt as I turn to see my outfit from the side and back. It feels like a giant waste of a cute outfit and I’m going to be sweaty by the time I walk from the door to the car, but at least I can count on the arena to be cold.

I can’t stop thinking about Victor’s words from earlier. The guilt at lying to my brother, and liking someone he hates so much, has me feeling uneasy. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but this is different. He’d freak out if he knew I was talking to Conrad.

Despite my restlessness, when I arrive at the arena, everything else fades. I smile as I take in the familiar orange lights glowing around the entrance. Fans are hurriedly pushing inside wearing jerseys and Houston Cougars ball caps.

I hand over my ticket to scan and then make my way up to my seat. There’s a notably empty spot where my dad should be, but Victor mentioned Dad hadn’t been to many games this season. I guess I assumed he’d be here tonight, given our dinner plans, but when the game starts, he still hasn’t shown up.

The crowd stands and cheers for puck drop, then stays on their feet while Houston takes possession of the puck. Victor gets a shot on goal, but Dallas’s goalie blocks it, and the action moves to the other side of the ice.

I’d forgotten how much I enjoy attending professional games. There’s an energy, a theatrical element, that high school games just don’t have. Before long, I’m caught up in the action with everyone around me. It comes to a devastating end when Dallas scores the first goal.

The crowd sits, and the energy dulls. At the first timeout, I pull out my phone.

A message is waiting for me. If the butterflies in my stomach are any indication of my feelings, I think I’m already too far gone for Victor’s concerns about Conrad to change my mind about him.

Conrad

You aren’t wearing a Houston jersey tonight, are you?

I snap a picture of me and send it to him. His reply comes almost instantly.

Conrad

Thank god. I don’t think I’d recover.

Me

How’s the day off?

Conrad

Is it pathetic to say I’m already a little bored?