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I was the loser of the game in the rink, which was fine, because I was still trying to get over what I’d said earlier in the locker room. I never thought about whether anyone on the team was gay, it wasn’t an issue, and yet, I felt like I had to do or say something to smooth it over. Except, I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up again.

Zach stood with me in the kitchen, watching as I made spaghetti and ragu. It was the easiest thing I could think of without having Julia click her tongue and shake her head at us when she found out we’d been eating junk. “We’re thinking of putting that show on in the den,” he said.

“What show?”

“The gay one,” he laughed.

“Oh my god, it was a joke,” I said, channeling the urge to throw the ladle into the pan. “You know, I didn’t even mean it like that.”

“I know, jeez, relax,” he said. “It’s just, you never know what people are going through. You’re our captain now, Luke, I just wanted to rip on you a little bit longer.”

“I’m down to watch it, I have no problem with gay people,” I said, and as the words came out of my mouth, Noah walked in.

“Damn, I should hope not,” Noah laughed. “You know, it wasn’t a big thing.”

I needed to dunk myself in an ice bath right about now. “I know, I know,” I said, raising my voice in frustration. “But if we could not tell the entire team about it when they all get here, that would be great. Please.”

They seemed to nod in agreement with me, and I once again wanted to reassure them I wasn’t homophobic, although I wondered now, if people on the team were gay, and I was the last one to know about them.

“How long until food is ready?” Noah asked. “We’re all starving in there. Are you making garlic bread?”

“Fuck.” I knew there was something I was missing. Whipping a cloth over my shoulder, I dipped to the large double oven in the island counter. “Give me ten to fifteen minutes, then it’ll be ready.” I turned the dial and pulsed the clicker to ignite the fire, preheating it. “I know what Julia feels now when we’re all coming in here asking for different things.”

Zach backed up, raising his hands. “Fine, fine, we’ll go tell everyone not to bother you.”

I’d never been so stressed, and I once had hundreds of people watching me score the winning point, and that had been stressful. I finished making the food and threw it all into large serving bowls for everyone to help themselves to. I wasn’t their mom; I wasn’t dishing it out for them as well.

When possible, sitting around the dining table was where we ate our meals. Team bonding was important, we needed to all have each other’s backs. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t want any of them thinking that what I’d said came from a place of phobia, and why I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was their captain, I was their leader, I needed to lead by example, so even if I hadn’t lost the game this afternoon, I would’ve still taken this penalty for them.

“Everyone dig in,” I said. “And let’s try not to make a mess.” That was going to be a close impossibility, spaghetti and sauce was the messiest food anyone would eat. And before we all knew it, our mouths were becoming red, stained with the sauce.

We licked our bowls clean and scooped the remaining sauce with the sliced baguette garlic breads. It was all frozen stuff I’d warmed up and the sauce was from a jar. The only thing I’d really done was make sure the beef was cooked properly.

From the end of the table, Liam smacked his stomach and laughed. “What’s for dessert?”

“Dessert?” I asked, looking around to gauge the consensus. “I—”

“Yeah, come on, you can’t make dinner without dessert after,” Justin joined in.

“We have ice cream, I think, but it’s probably been in the bottom of the freezer for months. That shit has freezer burn I bet. And you know, Julia will know exactly how much was there before she left,” I said.

They didn’t seem to care, and I was on a tour of making everything right again. So, ice cream it was. Neapolitan, with only vanilla and chocolate remaining of the three flavors. I’d eaten far too much of the spaghetti, almost like I’d been carbo-loading, I needed a long nap and maybe little a jerk off session to release the tension.

* * *

School was starting up and the house was filling with people who were ready to begin training and get started for the first game of the season which was still an entire month away, but the first game of the season set the tone of the entire semester and we still had a bunch of freshmen coming in that needed to bond with the team.

The Saturday before the first week of classes we were altogether at the arena with our coaches and the staff that worked there. Some people were new, others we already knew, like Tom Rodriguez, our equipment manager, and he had some pretty stern words for us because we’d rifled through his tape supply the other day.

It was also the first day we were getting to meet the new blood coming into the team. Five freshmen who had been big fish in small ponds, aka their high school teams, all the way to being little fish in our lake.

Coach gave the room for me to speak as we were in the locker room.

I’d been thinking about my speech all summer; how could I best motivate the entire team? My mind had drawn a blank on it every single time the question was posed. I didn’t know if it was too little to just tell them to play like every game was the play-offs.

“We are due a victory,” my first words to the group. “We are the Orcas, we are the killer whales on ice, we hunt in packs, we are a strong group of players when we come together. Not one player is better than the other, we all have our skills, we all have our areas and talents, and together, we are winners. There isn’t another team out there hungry like us, and trust me, we are starving for a win. On three, I need everyone to stomp their feet and let’s go. Let’s get laced up and on the ice.” They hung onto my every word. I was doing it. I was being a captain. “One, two, three!” I called out, their feet were slow to grow into a loud stampede and on three. “Go Orcas!” We shouted our voices had to have traveled far, but we were ready now.

Nothing could compare to the electricity of a team where each individual member was on fire with excitement, and I was reading to go into this season with everyone on the same page. We were going to the play-offs, and with it being my senior year and captaincy, you’d best believe this was going to help get my name secured to a trophy and several plaques for the cabinet.

Most of the session was team building as the freshmen were introduced and some of them had nicknames from their high school teams. Specifically, right winger, Mason Kim who seemed to fucking zoom by on skates as if he was the Flash, ready to break the sound barrier. Naturally, he carried the nickname, Speed.

We all got reacquainted with the coaching staff, most of them were returning, but others were new, and it was fun to have new people. They brought an excitement with them, everyone did, a giant ball of readiness I would need them all to keep so we could feed off it. This was nothing compared to when the full production of a game came around, the lights, the music, the screaming fans, that was the real energy booster.

And a new face that I’d seen before. Twice already now. I didn’t want to sound so conceited as to say I was being stalked or followed by it, but outside the rink, talking to Coach was that same student with his notepad and a little stuffed toy poking through his light jacket.

Letting the team keep playing their games on the ice, I skated over to Coach.

“Lucky,” he said. “I’m just talking to someone from the college paper, and I think it’s a great idea for him to have a sit down with you where you can tell him all your plans for the upcoming year.”

He looked down, as if my eyes were attached at my ankles.

“I’m Luke, Lucky,” I said, pulling off a glove. I extended my hand in front of his face, pulling his focus to move his head and give me a once over. “Team Captain.”

“Hi,” he said, his voice so soft. He took my hand. It was warm and just as soft as his voice had been. “You’re cold.”

Coach laughed. “It’s gonna get colder,” he said. “You’re gonna need to begin wearing more layers if you’re gonna be following the team around while we play the season.”

I would’ve preferred someone a little more outgoing, someone who looked like they supported us. “Well, it was good meeting you,” I said, seeing the stuffed teddy against his chest, it was an orca. Maybe he did support us, but usually a scarf or beanie in the rink showed that.

“You too,” he mumbled back.

“Coach, can I speak to you?” I asked, skating a little further on the inside of the rink.

Coach walked over, huffing and sighing at me. “Come on, Luke,” he said. “Give the kid a chance. He’s just a little shy. You didn’t even ask him for his name. You know, lead by example and all that. He’s a fan of the team.”

“But he—” I looked over at him, his big blue eyes just staring at the team as they played games on the ice. “He’s just not someone I’d see and think they were a fan. You know, usually we get one of the journalism majors who pay attention.”

“Listen, Wren is a good kid,” he said. “That’s his name, even though you didn’t ask. He’s the only person whose been around from the paper, granted, it’s before classes start, but you’ve got to give it to him, he’s showing initiative.”

“Hey, Wren,” I called out to him. He perked up, nearly falling over himself to look in my direction. “Come over.”

“You better be nice, Lucky,” Coach said.

I was nice. I just had an idea of what this season was going to be for me. It was my make it or break it season, and a lot of that lined up with how much we got press about. We needed to amp up our socials, and we needed someone who looked like they could write about the team in a way that got people excited. I just didn’t think Wren was that person.

He walked over; his eyes firmly fixed on his feet as he walked. I could’ve understood if he were in skates, but he wasn’t, they were just his regular feet. “I haven’t been assigned to report on the Orcas yet,” he said. “I really want to be, I’m sorry if I let you believe I was already.”

“It doesn’t matter that you haven’t,” Coach said. “You seem knowledgeable on the game, and the team. If you don’t get assigned, I still hope you’ll show up to the games.”

“Of course, I will,” he said.

I felt a bit bad now, I was, once again, jumping to conclusions and I knew better than to do that. “If there’s anything you need to know about the team, you can talk to me and we can set something up,” I said, much to the coach’s surprises. I’d never seen his eyes open that wide, almost like he had a face lift.

“You sure, Lucky?”

“Of course,” I said. “But only if you can answer this question. Who do you think is the best player out there on the ice right now?”

Wren pushed the tip of tongue between his teeth, pinching it sightly. “Well,” he said, glancing at me. “Including you?”

“No, just them, and I guess not including the freshmen,” I said.

His mouth moved strange as he went to biting his teeth to gnawing his lips together, mashing them around. My initial thoughts had been right about him not forming an opinion was going to hurt the team, especially when it came to writing about us. And just when I was about to leave, he answered the question.

“Well, Tyler is probably up there because he’s in goal and his stats are great, but if we’re talking defenses, I’m looking at number five. The way he throws himself in the way of the puck is amazing, but he’s also more likely to be injured, so he’s good for a game or two until he gets injured. Then there are the forwards, and not talking about you, I’d say Snipes is good, he’s got a lethal wrist, the way he can just go for goal in those high-pressure situations. But if we’re talking about players who take focus, I’d probably say number seventeen. Everyone wants to punch him.” He paused to let out a giggle. “Last season, I went to a game when he lost a tooth from body checking someone and then they did this with their elbow and just smashed his cheek.”

Slowly, I nodded my head in agreement with him. He had some great insights into the team. Jack aka Grinder from the way he will pin you to the boards was an easy one though, it was in his nickname. “And what about me?”

Wren glanced from me to Coach, as if he was asking permission to talk about me. “Well, you’re the captain,” he said. “You bring the team together. You’re the glue. And you’re a lucky shot. But obviously, I think being called lucky kinda downplays the skill it takes to pull off some of those shots.”

The smile that appeared on my face, warming my cheeks was irreplaceable.“How long have you been watching us?” I asked.

“I’m going into my sophomore year, so just last year,” he said. “I’m probably not that good at putting my thoughts into spoken word, but I’m a good writer. At least, my grades always said I was good at writing, and it’s what I love the most.”

From someone in their passion to someone chasing their passion, I could appreciate where he was coming from. “Ok, well, if you’re going to be reporting on the team for the paper, you need to start wearing the merch,” I said. “And that means more than just the stuffed animals.”

He flinched, pulling at the killer whale against his chest. “This isn’t—” he paused, but I wanted to hear what he had to say. “I made this. It’s crochet. And I—I made it before I came to college. One of my extra credit classes in high school was in textiles and so, I made toys like this.”

Now he’d started talking, he didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. “Sounds good. Maybe it’s a sign.”

He nodded his head, still so wide eyed as he stared at me. “Maybe it is,” he said. “I hope I get assigned to the Orcas. I prefer ice hockey over football.”

I laughed. “Everyone should.”

Being on ice was poetic, the way skates moved like a fancy pen signing its name on a contract. Way better than the brute nature of football, even if we did have our body checks and grinders.