wrath of the wounded // a.banks

three.

We arrived at Los Angeles quickly and there we stood, dumbfounded and marveled at the sight before us. We were at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, where our first game in the Junior Goodwill Games would occur. Julie took our their camera and she began taking picture, upon picture. Every moment of every second was captured on her camera. I walked next to Conway, trying to control any sign of eagerness that could seep out of my facade. I walked in confidently and focused; that is what I appeared to be anyway. 

"How can you be so calm, when we are at the JUNIOR OLYMPICS?" Julie yelled out.

"It's still a regular game of hockey, Jules." It was not a regular game of hockey. I was faced with the possibility of losing because of this team. I shooed the thought away, unable to think about it without getting anxious. We were up against Trinidad, and this game was meant to be our statement. That Team USA is invincible.

//

We were thrown into the game as soon as it began. It was five to nothing and I was becoming restless on the bench. Why hadn't he put me in? All the possibilities ran through my head at once. Of course, the only one that made sense was that he was holding a grudge. I wondered if he was still angry after I rebuked him about playing around. After our sixth goal, the coach hesitantly put me in. 

Connie and I raced for the goal, passing it between each other. I hit the puck towards her and she rams it into the goal. The goalie barely even reached for it. I skated past her and patted her on her shoulder. Everyone cheered and gathered around her. Both the eighth and the ninth goal were mine. I received my fair share of high fives and hugs by my ninth one. I was ready for the tenth but coach took me off the ice. 

I huffed out a breath next to Fulton. I turned to see him and Dean working out their "secret" handshake, which consists of two fist bumps on the top. Very clever. Both Dean and Fulton put on their bandannas and their were off. Throwing, pushing and knocking over everyone and everything in their path. It was reckless and inconsistent, they were no Rabid and Feral. My boys were impulsive, but they always knew exactly what they must do. They made the tenth goal and gave an incredible show for the crowd, who hooted and hollered for them. They received the title, "Bash Brothers" and it suited them well. 

I grinned as Fulton came into the box and I called out his name, "Fuuulton," I said in a deep voice. He replied by grabbing my extended hand and grasping on to it as if we were about to begin an arm wrestle contest. I slapped his back and he sat down, utterly giddy. I knew the feeling. 

"Hey, you got a girl in the stands?" Conway suddenly asked Adam.

"No. Scouts man, look at them." He said with ease. I let out the breath I was holding, trying to listen to his answer. 

Then I was in again. The annoncer began, "Nearing the end of the game, Team U.S.A. with it out on center ice. Here's Connie Moreau. Moreau stick-handling in the Trinidad Zone. Moreau still with it, moves around a pileup, gives it to Andromeda "Wrath" Black. Wrath, the four-state championship captain, is back behind the net. Wrath around the front. It's a wraparound," I shoot, "She scores!" The alarm blares in victory. 

The game ends, eleven to one. The only reason that Trinidad scored that one point was because Julie wasn't playing; nothing gets past Julie. 

Coach reenforces the statement I said early. "That wasn't a game, that was a statement!" Everyone cheers in triumph. As we leave the ice, I stand between the ice rink and the solid ground and directly point out each vulnerable spot with four fingers. Two before a game, four after a victory. I bow my head and say the words, "είμαι ευγνώμων για αυτήν τη νίκη." (eímai evgnómon gia aftín ti níki.) The words say in English, I am grateful for this victory. I was.