Page 211 of Pucking Around

My goalie is hurt.

Mars is hurt.

Rule number fucking one in hockey?Nevertouch the goalie.

With a roar of rage, I fling my stick aside, dropping my gloves. I’m gonna make this man bleed if it’s the last thing I do. I barrel right into Marchand, tackling him down to the ice. And then I’m an animal. I see only red as I punch every part of him I can reach. My fists crunch against his helmet as he cries out, wrestling with me.

I’m not alone for long. Every Ray on the ice has dropped his gloves. Never touch the fucking goalie. They descend like hounds on the scrap of rotten meat that is Marchand. The ref and linesmen finally descend, blowing their whistles and grabbing for anyone they can reach.

I’m the last one at the bottom of the pile, straddling Marchand as I punch him in the fucking teeth.

“That’s enough,” Sully yells, his arms around me as he pulls me off. It takes him and a lineman to do it. I resist them both, cursing and jerking my arms.

“Five for fighting!” the ref yells at me. “Get in the box, 42!”

“Fuckin’ pussy ass bitch,” Marchand mutters, spitting blood onto the ice. Then he looks up at me, a big, laughing smile on his face.

“You’re fucking dead!” I shout, busting free from the hold Sully had on me.

“No—Compton—” He scrambles after me, Langley lunges too, grabbing me before I can drop back down on Marchand.

“That’s it, 42! You’re out!” The ref shouts. “Get off the ice!”

The fans are going nuts, the sound of whistles shrill in my ears, and then it’s like I suddenly remember where I am. “Mars!” I cry out, my head swiveling around as Sully and J-Lo drag me over to the bench.

“He’s fine,” J-Lo mutters.

I can’t leave this ice until I know. “Mars!” I call out again. “Mars!”

He’s on his knees, his mask flipped up, talking to the lineman. At the sound of my shouts, he looks my way and nods once.

Thank fucking god.

Meanwhile, Marchand is skating to the penalty box, blood streaming out of his nose onto his white Maple Leafs jersey. The Rays fans boo him, while on this side of the ice they scream and cheer for me. It’s a hollow victory. No victory at all, really. He’ll be in the box for five minutes and then back on the ice, while I’m out of the game. I can’t protect Mars anymore. Can’t protect my team. I’m a worthless fucking piece of shit who can’t keep anyone safe.

“Jake!”

I close my eyes, unwilling to turn my head. I can’t face her. Can’t see the disappointment in her eyes. She watched it all. She watched Mars take the hit. She watched me fail to protect him. She watched the fight.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Compton?” Coach bellows. “Get off the damn ice. Now!”

Sully and J-Lo let me go, and I step through the open hatch onto the bench. Morrow has already hopped the boards, ready to take my place.

“Get back out there and refocus,” Coach calls. “Everyone get your heads out of your asses, and let’s play some damn hockey!” He rounds on me, finger in my face. “I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you tonight, but if that fight didn’t put you on the bench, I was gonna do it myself. You’re a goddamn mess, Compton. Get back in that locker room and take care of your face. Price!”

I wince, closing my eyes.

“Yes, sir?” she calls, moving down the bench behind the guys.

“Go with Compton,” Coach barks. “Make sure he hasn’t broken any bones in his seven-million-dollar-a-year hands!”

“Yes, sir.” She looks up at me with such a face of shock and confusion.

I can’t fucking stand it. Spinning away from her, I stomp down the hall towards the locker room.

93

“Jake!” I call, running after him. “Jake, what just happened out there? What’s wrong—”