See Kate Score

Chapter 13 - Bad Habits

Chapter 13: Bad Habits

    “Oh come on!” I yelled at the ref from the side bench where I sat, waiting. I had gotten checked pretty hard a few times and coach thought I ‘needed a break.’ Bull-fucking-shit.

    “Coach,” I begged up at him. His eyes were beadily darting from player to player on the ice. “You’ve gotta let me out on the ice. Please.”

    He looked down at me and bit his lip. “Fine. Fill in for Luvoski when he comes back.”

    I smiled and kept cheering and watching the skating in front of me. I hated sitting during a game. If there was a chance that I could help win tonight, there was absolutely no chance in hell that I wouldn’t want to go out on the ice. I loved hockey with all my heart.

    When Luvoski skated back, I hopped over the short wall and skated towards defense. Killian was skating around his goal, keeping his eyes trained on the puck. Good.

   On the plane, all the team had apologized to me, partially because coach had yelled at them and forced them to, but I still appreciated it.

    The puck flew by me and I skated towards it with another opponent on my trail. I got the puck and skated around our goal, making my way to offense.

    Wham! I was checked into the plexiglass. Damn it.

    The guy who had the puck passed it to another teammate. Ky and another one of our teammates, Henry, tried desperately to get it from them, but it was too late. They had scored.

    We were now three to two, it was the third and final period. I was getting angry now, and I had to keep it down.

    The puck was in John Bright’s hands, I was silently rooting for him to hurry up and shoot, and when he was near the opponent’s goal, he tripped.

   I saw it. I saw the whole thing. The L.A. player had stuck his stick out and hooked him. An illegal move.

    “Hey!” I was yelling at the guy and raced over to him. The crowd was now cheering, obviously not catching the illegal move he had made.

    I threw down my stick and shoved the guy in the chest. “What the hell was that?”

    He looked down at me, towering a god several inches above me, but I kept staring at him, angry.

    “It’s called winning, bitch.”

    “You asshole.” I said before yanking off my gloves and his helmet, punching his face.

    He didn’t have time to react, which gave me plenty. I kept elbowing him and punching him.

   He finally made a swing to my face and hit me square in the jaw. I had to admit, it hurt. I had never gotten punched on the ice before, but it only fueled my anger.

   We kept fighting, the crowd cheering us on with their cowbells and voices, and I heard some people from my team calling out to me, telling me to stop. Our helmets had both been knocked off by now, and I kept making him bleed. He punched my ribs, and I was sure there would be a bruise.

   I saw referees make a move to stop us, but it was no use. I was grabbed by the arms and pulled back slightly, but not before the other player lunged and knocked me out.

   

    “Ah!” I yelped, lurching up and forward. Squinting, I blocked out the blinding luminescent light over me.