Sudden Death

The Championship Arena was deafening. It was an NHL-sized rink, packed to the rafters with screaming parents, students, and scouts.

The Iron River Bashers lived up to their name. They were huge. They played mean.

By the second period, the score was tied 2-2. Liam was playing out of his mind, stopping pucks that should have been impossible. But he was getting battered. Every time he covered the puck, a Basher would "accidentally" fall on him.

Maya stood in the very top row, near the AV booth. She wasn't cheering. She was watching Tank Tolin, number 44.

She saw the pattern. Every time Liam went behind the net to play the puck, Tolin would drift toward the blind side. He was timing it. He was hunting.

Third period. Two minutes left. Tie game.

The puck was dumped into the Oakridge zone. It rimmed around the boards behind the net.

Liam signaled to his defensemen. He skated out of the crease to stop the puck behind the net.

Maya saw it.

Tolin was coming off the bench on a line change. He wasn't watching the play. He was skating full speed toward the back of the net, coming from Liam’s blind side. It was the perfect setup for a knee-on-knee collision. A career-ender.

Maya couldn't scream loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

She turned to the door of the AV booth. She didn't knock. She kicked it open.

A sophomore with acne and a headset jumped. "Hey! You can't be in here!"

"I'm Bella Sterling," Maya announced, channeling every ounce of Mean Girl energy she had inherited. "And I have fifty dollars and a date with my friend Sarah for you if you do exactly what I say."

The kid blinked. "Sarah? The girl with the yellow sweater?"

"Yes. Now give me the mic."

On the ice, Liam reached the puck. He looked left. Tolin was coming from the right.

"Give me the mic!" Maya grabbed the headset from the kid’s desk. She jammed the "PA OVERRIDE" button.

*SCREEEEECH.*

The feedback whined through the massive arena speakers, drowning out the crowd.

"LIAM!" Maya’s voice boomed like the voice of God. "RIGHT! MOVE RIGHT!"

It was so loud, so unexpected, that everyone froze for a microsecond.

Everyone except Liam.

He knew that voice. He trusted that voice.

Without looking, without thinking, Liam abandoned the puck and dove to his left, back toward the goal post.

Tank Tolin, who had committed to the hit, couldn't stop. He slammed into the boards where Liam’s legs had been a split second ago.

*CRUNCH.*

The glass rattled. Tolin crumpled to the ice.

Liam was safe. He scrambled up. The puck was loose.

His winger, Davey, picked it up. The Bashers were out of position, staring at their fallen captain.

Davey passed to center. Breakaway.

Goal.

The buzzer sounded.

Oakridge 3, Iron River 2.

Maya dropped the headset. She slumped against the wall of the AV booth, her heart hammering a hole in her chest.

"Did... did we win?" the AV kid asked.

"Yeah," Maya breathed. "We won."

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