Page 31 of Offside Attraction

Zach does his best to mirror me—pivot turns, Mohawks, backward and forward skating. He keeps up well, and from his footwork alone, I can tell he’s been skating for years.

After a few laps around the neutral zone, the whistle blows again.

We switch roles.

Zach becomes the truck, and I fall in behind him. He moves smoothly, confident, and I match him stride for stride, copying every turn and shift in speed. The drill flows easily, muscle memory taking over.

A few minutes later, the whistle sounds again, signaling us to stop.

We skate to the bench as the blue team takes the ice, their trucks leading while the trailers mirror every move.

“Wow,” Zach says once we’re seated, grinning at me. “You’re really good. And fast.”

“Thanks,” I reply. “You too.”

He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “I really hope I make the team. Some of these guys are insane.”

“Don’t let that get to you,” I tell him honestly. “You’re good.”

Zach smiles, looking back toward the ice. “Thanks, Dakota.”

I nod, then shift my attention to Hayes.

He’s staring straight at me. Not glaring this time—something else sits in his expression. Something tight. Calculating.

“I’m guessing you’ve been skating for a while,” Zach says, pulling my attention back.

“Yeah. A while,” I reply. “You?”

“Since I was ten,” he says. “Hockey’s always been the dream.”

“Cool,” I say, not sure what else to add.

After a few more minutes, Coach Rivera blows the whistle again.

“Alright, next drill. Puck control.”

The red team goes first.

Each of us gets a puck. The goal is simple: maintain control of your own puck while trying to knock everyone else’s away. Last one standing wins.

When the whistle blows, we’re off.

I keep my head up, stick tight, body loose. I dodge, pivot, and protect the puck instinctively. One by one, guys lose control and skate off to the side.

When the final whistle sounds, my puck is still glued to my blade.

“Good job, Miller!” Coach Rivera calls, smiling proudly.

Confidence surges through me as I glance toward Hayes.

He rolls his eyes, his expression sour.

What a girl.

The next drill is a one-on-one. Coach Rivera pairs each forward with a defenseman from the blue team.

I go first.