#Chapter 20 When Rewards Are Hard–Earned
With their most recent win, the Chillers are just a few games away from qualifying for the playoffs and Division I nationals. The Bernard Saints were one of their greatest adversaries –which, I highly doubted that, considering how the Chillers swept them.
But Alex sat me down and taught me how the point system works, showing me past games. No, the Bernard Saints were a high–quality team. The Chillers were just better.
Still, even after surpassing their greatest opponents, there’s others that could give them a run for their money. Therefore, the Chillers amp up the difficulty of their training.
I’m not sure how he does it, practicing hockey four days a week and still finding time for our play. The coach even moved practice to early morning rather than after school. Sure, it’s to reduce other scheduling conflicts, but 5 AM is still so early.
Worried he won’t keep it together, I decide to try to help. Maybe if I make him some snacks, he can eat them and stay energized? So, I use some of my allowance to buy food and look up a marinated grilled chicken tutorial online.
It’s my first time cooking something like it, but it turns out great! I’m sure he’s gonna love it, though he’ll definitely owe me for having me get up so early, too.
As I park in the back parking lot near the clubs and sports arenas, though, I hear the approach of blaring sirens rushing down the street. I expect it to continue down the road. But instead, it turns into the same area, coming to a stop right outside the visitor entrance
to the rink.
My heart sinks into cold sand.
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#Chapter 20 When Rewards Are Hard–Earned
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Quickly leaving my car, I go over, keeping a safe distance as I see players start filtering outside. They’re still mostly in–gear, only having taken their skates off. Their expressions seem grim.
I happen to catch a glimpse of Gunther, so I go up to him.
“Guntherrr, uhm, what. Happened?”
He turns toward me. Then, his expression contorts a bit, and that only worries me more.
“Alex? Isss–hff. Is Alex okay?”
His expression immediately lightens. “Huh? Oh, yeah. He’s good. Sorry, thought you were gonna, I mean…erh…” Then he becomes awkward, looking away.
Before I can ask what he means, I hear some people demanding more room.
The paramedics have a player strapped down on a stretcher as they roll him out. The entire
right side of his face is coated in red as he presses a cloth to his face, whimpering in pain.
Oh God, I didn’t know it could get this bloody.
I…need to see Alex now.
I’m sure he’s still inside, so I slide past Gunther and make my way in. The lunch box I
packed feels warm against my chest as I clutch it, quickly filtering through the concerned
faces.
My senses latch onto Alex, finding him squinting as he watches the player leave.
“Alex…”
He blinks, then realizes I’m there.
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“Ah, shit…. Did you see any of that?”
I nod stiffly, and he moves in, hugging me.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”
“What happened?”
Alex’s brows scrunch. “Oliver slipped while playing. When he fell, his skate sired mu Henry’s face. He’s gonna need stitches, but…not sure he can keep playing at all even after
that.”
“Ohh…. Uhm. You. Won’t get hurt–hurt like that. Rrr–right?
He sighs, but rather than exasperated, he seems happy.
“Yeah, I’m tough as nails, Cynth. You don’t have to worry…” He pauses then, sniffling Do I smell chicken?”
Ah. He’s a liar.
I know I can’t blame him, not really. But I still do.
There’s two games at the end of the week, and since I have time, I go to both. The one Friday night isn’t so bad. It’s the one on Saturday that makes my heart choke.
This time, the opposing team has a different idea than the Bernard Saints had–team up on
Alex.
Much less than gliding across the ice, Alex can barely get anywhere without someone from the other team blocking him. It’s a contact game, so they knock into him, shove against
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#Chapter 20 When Rewards Al Fland Farjual
him, throw him off kilter as much as they can.
47590004
It feels as though they’re outright attacking him. If they were allowed to hit him with their sticks, I’m sure they would.
Alex is big, but he’s not a goliath or giant or anything. There’s plenty of other six–foot players, some of whom are stockier than he is,
He fights back as much as possible without hurting, anyone despite his clear irritation and impatience. His jaw clenches during a short pause, but he lets it go, breathing out easily.
But then, one of the opposing players outright slam into his side, shoving his face against the glass. It’s hard enough that it displaces his helmet. Two more slam into him just moments later though he shoves them off.
I shoot to my feet the instant I see blood run down from the top of his nose.
I’m not the only one who sees it, one of his teammates on the rink looking over. After the puck makes it into the opposing net, he skates up to one of the guys that slammed into Alex and starts fussing. The other player fusses back, and the next thing I know, fists are flying
Other people start standing to yell and cheer the brawl, but I just stare in shock.
The players in their seats remain there, but it becomes a mess of fists and wrestling on the ice. Some even throw off their protective gear, removing gloves and helmets to fight
unincumbered.
Although the referees are quick to act, somehow, Alex is even quicker. But not to make the
fight worse.
He pulls one of his teammates off an opposer and starts calling out for the others to stop.
As quickly as the fighting starts up, it comes to an end. There’s some whistle blowing and
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callouts from the referees, demanding but remaining calm.
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Eventually, the adrenaline rush runs out, and the players obey as requested. A few others now have blood dripping from their faces, and it looks like Alex got hit again, bleeding more than before. The refs call for a break to get players patched up before continuing the
game.
I plop down into my seat.
…Continue? Although people are bleeding, they’re going to keep going?
Indeed, they do, though the referees seem more stringent than before.
The game is close, but even with Alex held back, the Chillers pull through. This time, the post–game celebration seems muted, full of still–present frustration they can’t let out on
each other.
Once more people have left the area, I head back to the locker room. Most of the other players have already gotten patched up, but Alex took the worst of it.
After counting the guys who left, I slip in, finding Alex changing into a clean shirt.
“Uhm…”
“Oh, heyo,” he greets, smiling despite the bandage over his nose.
I’m apparently more timid than usual, and he sighs, sitting down on the bench.
“C’m’over here, I’m not an invalid.”
“…Not convincing. With your hands, and. Nose. Wrapped up.”
Still, I go in, scrunching my nose upon smelling a bunch of sweaty boys. He laughs at my
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#Chapter 20 When Rewards Are Hard–Earned
expression, but calms when he sees the look in my eyes.
“Seriously, I’m fine, Cynth. This’ll heal in no time.”
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“But…uhm.” I look down at his hands, knowing that part is my fault. “Why…do all of that? Fighting.”
“Eh, it’s just part of the game. We get amped up on adrenaline and go wild. Blowing off steam, you know? Don’t take it too seriously…and, ah, it doesn’t happen all the time. So you can still come to games without seeing fights.”
I can’t help but squirm.
“But…uhm…” He waits patiently as I try to speak. “…Why fight so hard? To bleed. To win a game?”
Alex hums then, tilting his head in thought. Then he smiles and leans toward me.
“I guess you could say hockey is my drama club.”
…Somehow, I immediately get it. It just sort of clicks to me.
Drama is my everything, and I would face the idea of bullies and getting beat up if it meant I could be somewhere near a stage. For him, it was that he’d face the same thing if it meant that puck could make it into a goal.
“…Oh.”
I’d never thought of it like that… I can’t help but think I’ve been shallow about this.
…From now on, I’ll put more effort in his interests, too.
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