Slapshot

Chapter 7: Sad

Taylor's POV

Monday came around fast, and soon enough it was lunchtime. Just after I left my class, I was interrupted by an arm around my shoulder. I look up, Braden flashing me a smile. When I smile back, he leans down and kisses me. I quickly push him off.

"Not at school!" I say.

"Oh, c'mon," he whines, giving me a quick peck.

"What if Coach or someone else sees?" I ask.

"Whatever," he shrugs. We were just now reaching the cafeteria.

"Braden! You didn't tell anyone about Friday, right?" I ask him worriedly.

"No, why would I?" He asks, and I sigh in relief.

I look over at the table where the hockey team usually sat at, and I was surprised to not find Jonathan. I hadn't texted him at all this weekend. Maybe this meant that he wasn't here today, but there was a hockey practice after school. I knew him well enough to know he wouldn't miss a hockey practice.

It was weird to think we played our first game at the end of next week. I wanted to be ready, no, I wanted to be perfect. I was so nervous to play, I knew I'd have to play or else they wouldn't have enough players, but it was still nerve wracking. I couldn't play poorly, because majority of the school would come out to watch, and I couldn't embarrass myself in front of the school. I just couldn't do that. Maybe I could go get some practice in now.

"I'm just gonna go." I tell Braden, removing his arm from around my shoulders.

"Where?" He asks.

"Um... I have to do some council stuff." I say, and he nods. I felt bad for lying, but I had to. If I had said I was going to the rink, he would've wanted to come, and he would've probably seen how bad I was.

So I left alone, heading to the changeroom. I know there was a closer entrance beside the gym, so I went there instead of having to go all the way around to the rink.

I took my bag out of my gym locker, taking out just my skates and my stick. I wouldn't need anything else.

After I laced up, I dug into my bag and found a puck that Jonathan had given me. I took it as well, wobbling out of the doors.

I walked over to the bench, and just as I climbed over, I heard a noise. Someone was on the ice, they had just shot a puck in the net. He turned around and I finally realized that it was Jonathan.

I opened the gate and his head shot back toward me. I couldn't read his expression as he looked at me.

He continued shooting the puck as if I wasn't even here. "Jonathan." I call his name, skating over to him.

"Why are you here?" He asks, playing with the puck.

"I just wanted some extra practice time. How about you?" I say.

"It's stupid," he shakes his head, skating away.

"Jonathan," I sigh as I say his name. "Just tell me."

He shrugs. "I don't know. I come to the rink when I feel sad or something." I can barely hear him, he was being so quiet.

"Come here." I sigh, skating over to him. "Are you okay?" I ask.

He takes another shot on net. It was so aggressive that I thought his stick would break, but it didn't. His shot went in, they all did.

"I'm fine," he says in between shots on net.

"Alright." I say.