Page 24 of The Tryout

“No. He just said you were a friend doing a tryout in Iowa. Nothing about an injury.”

He gives a small smile.

“That was nice of him. And, I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you want to keep that between us. ACL. Should be fully healed, but last season wasn’t…it wasn’t good. Certainly not good enough to try the draft again.”

I appreciate his honesty but am still surprised. I mean, I know that teams are hesitant about injuries, but what I saw today could not be classified as ‘not good’, not by a long shot. Teams draft worse players all the time.

“Well, you looked pretty good today.” I realize he may not know this, and feel the need to share.

“Thanks,” he says, blushing a bit.

Mr. Tran comes back to the table with the check, but before I can even see the amount, Avery snatches it up.

“Happy Birthday, Finn.”

I go to protest, but he won’t hear any of it.

“No way. Jamie would eviscerate me if he heard I let you pay. Besides, these Iowa prices are unreal.”

I can’t tell what exactly he means by that – are they more than he was expecting or less? God knows the city prices have seemed extreme to me at times, but he’s coming from Los Angeles, which I’m sure is worse. Still, I feel the need to do something for him.

“Hey, tell you what. If you make the team, you could, uh, rent my guest room. I mean, if you wanted.”

“Yeah?” Thankfully, he looks happy about this.

“Yeah. Maybe you can help expand my palate while you’re at it.”

He smirks, just a bit.

“I’d like that, Finn.”

CHAPTER SIX

AVERY

On Friday morning, I realize this is the day – in the next eight hours, I’ll know whether or not I have a future in hockey. I get dressed carefully, making an attempt to look at least somewhat respectable. My hair isn’t having it, refusing to fall anywhere but right into my eyes.

I’ll have to get a haircut when I get home.

I take a deep breath at the unintended thought, realizing that at least part of me doesn’t think I have a future in Iowa. Still, I know I’ve done what I could – I’ve played hard in practice every day, listened to the coaches, made the necessary adjustments. I’ve done the work.

And now it’s all up to someone else.

Grabbing my bag, I head out to the car I’ve rented for the week. Tossing the bag in the back, I swing through a drive-through coffee shop, grabbing a black coffee and two muffins. The coffee is gone before I get to the arena, but the second muffin isn’t for me.

Instead, I bring it into the locker room, handing it over to Murphy before making my way to my own locker.

And just like when he took his first bite of spring roll the other night, his eyes light up at the treat, giving me the biggest smile I’ve seen so far.

He’s a skinny guy, in that lanky awkward way that most of us are at twenty. A few extra grams of sugar won’t kill him. Maybe I should take him out for dinner again…if I’m still here by dinner time.

It’s been interesting to play with him, to see what Jamie may have also seen, just a week ago. He’s fast – to hear Jamie talk, much faster than last year. His skating is sure and his turns are clean, probably thanks to the meticulous way he runs drills. While his playmaking may not compete against Jamie’s - whose does? - it certainly makes the rest of us look like a bunch of slobs.

In short, there’s no doubt that he’s sticking around. I’m a little surprised he’s here in the first place and not still up in Minneapolis in Tremblay’s guest room.

I start to pull on my pads, getting ready for another day of showing what I’ve got. They’ve been messing around with defensive pairings a bit this week, giving me a chance to work with several of the other guys. In the beginning, I was mostly with Johannsson, a returning member of their third pair, but for the last day and a half, I’ve been with Tomas Novak, a veteran on the last few years of a contract. He seems like a nice guy; a picture of his wife and kids hangs in his locker and, unlike some of the married guys, he actually goes home to them at the end of the day.

Just as I reach for my pads, Banks walks into the locker room. Around me, the guys mostly ignore him. I, however, am hyperfocused on his movements which, sure enough, are in my direction.