Ice Time Page 7

  “Exactly,” Floyd said.

  Rocket felt bad for McGill. Floyd didn’t seem to like him too much.

  “You want to come for a workout tomorrow morning?” Rory asked Rocket.

  “Definitely,” Rocket said.

  Not actually true. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep for a week. But if Rory was working out — and he’d played in the NHL — then Rocket should, too.

  “See you tomorrow, nine o’clock,” Rory said. “Good game, bro. Two goals and an assist — awesome.”

  In the third period, Rocket had stayed on the first line with Goldsy and Rory. He’d gotten an assist on Goldsy’s one-time slapshot from the top of the circle.

  Rocket said goodbye to Rory and went to the door.

  “Good game,” Goldsy called out to him.

  “Oh … th-thanks,” Rocket stuttered. “Good game to you. Too.”

  Goldsy turned to talk to Rory.

  Rocket wondered about himself sometimes. He’d sounded ridiculous. Nice of Goldsy, though. Maybe Rocket had made a good impression today — a real step toward being accepted on the team.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Nadav said to him at the door.

  “Don’t think so,” Rocket said.

  “Didn’t you have your first of these tonight?”

  Rocket had no idea what he was talking about.

  Nadav gave him an odd look as he pulled a puck out of his pocket. “Your first goal? This is the puck.” He held it up. There it was, in gold lettering, the date and Bryan Rockwood, 1st AHL Goal.

  “You’re the best!” Rocket said, reaching for it. “I’d almost forgotten.” In truth, he was having a hard time remembering the actual goal.

  “I want to check you out tomorrow. I know it’s an off day, but is there any chance you can come by?” Nadav said.

  “I’m working out with Rory at … in the morning.” Rocket couldn’t remember what time Rory had said.

  “I’ll see you then,” Nadav said.

  “Hey, you,” Floyd yelled from across the room. “Get me a bottle of water. I’m parched here.”

  Nadav grimaced before reaching for a bottle. Rocket didn’t envy him.

  As he headed to the lobby, Rocket got more excited with each step. Cool that Megan had seen his first goal — his first two. And he was glad Ritchie and the kids had been there, too.

  The lights in the lobby were bright, and he had to put a hand across his eyes. His head swam, and he leaned against the wall.

  The feeling passed almost as fast as it came, but Rocket was unnerved all the same. He felt good. He did. So, was it a concussion? The symptoms — dizziness, nausea, forgetfulness, sensitivity to light — seemed to come and go.

  After a game like tonight’s, an injury would be an epic disaster. He’d finally had the chance to prove he could play. Plus, C.C. was going to be out for a least a few games. The team needed Rocket, and he didn’t want to let them down.

  Leona saw him first. “There’s Rocket Man!” she shrieked.

  She and Rafa hopped up and down, their hands over their heads.

  “Hey, guys,” Rocket said. “Enjoy the game?”

  “We very much enjoyed your goals,” Ritchie said.

  “Did you get my puck?” Leona said.

  He’d forgotten. Rocket felt the puck in his pocket — his first AHL goal. “Of course, I did,” he said. He gave it a last look and handed it to her.

  “Mine doesn’t have writing,” Rafa wailed.

  “You can share them,” Rocket said.

  “This is mine,” Leona said to Rafa.

  “Not fair,” Rafa whined.

  “Children can be a great joy in life — and a great big headache,” Ritchie said, laughing.

  Megan spotted him. “Great game, Bryan. Wow! So glad I came. André and Maddy will be mad they missed it. Two goals! That was a dirty hit, though. He should’ve been kicked out.”

  Rocket rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell me about it. I was seeing spots there for a while.”

  “Do you think you have a concussion?” she said.

  “Megan, have you met my Pinewood family?” Rocket said quickly. “Ritchie, Rafa and Leona.”

  “Bryan gave me a puck with writing on it,” Leona said.

  Rafa scowled deeply.

  “I’ll write on your puck, too,” Rocket told him.

  Rafa stuck his tongue out at Leona, and she stuck hers out back.

  “I am Ritchie. Very nice to meet a friend of Bryan,” Ritchie said.

  Megan smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  “We should get going,” said Ritchie. “Our bus will be here soon. We will see you at home, Bryan.”

  “I can give you a ride,” Megan offered.

  “It is okay. You have a long drive home,” Ritchie said.

  “It’s no problem,” Megan said. “I can fit five people.”

  Rocket was too tired to turn down a lift. “Once Megan decides something, you won’t get her to change her mind,” he said. “Let’s get these two brats home.”

  “He’s the brat,” Leona said, pointing at Rafa. “I’m a wonderful child.”

  Megan laughed, and they all headed to the door, the two kids chattering away.

  Rafa and Leona kept at it all the way home, with Megan and Ritchie laughing the entire time. Rocket had trouble following the conversation, and he was so drained from the game, he could barely keep his eyes open.

  Megan pulled over in front of their building.

  “Again, thank you,” Ritchie said. “I hope you will be able to return for a long visit soon. I think Bryan will be lonely here without his friends or family.”

  “I will, thanks. Hopefully soon. School is busy, but I’ll figure out another game, maybe on a Friday or Saturday.”

  “Wonderful. I will be looking forward to it,” Ritchie said. He and the two kids got out.

  “Bye, guys,” Megan said. “Take care of Bryan for me.”

  “I’ll be home in a bit,” Rocket told them.

  He yawned deeply as they left.

  “Am I that dull?” Megan joked.

  “No. Sorry. Just tired for some reason,” Rocket said.

  “So … how are things going? André told me about this coach of yours, Barker? He sounds like a real jerk. What if he keeps giving you a hard time?”

  “I can deal with him. No worries.” He yawned again.

  “You’ve yawned about ten times since we left the rink,” Megan said. “I think that guy messed you up a bit.”

  “I’m fine. Honest. I was just up early today.” It was all he could do to keep his eyes open.

  Megan ran her hand through her hair. “Have you registered for those online courses yet?”

  Rocket looked out the window. “Not yet. I will. It’s been busy.”

  “This is serious, Bryan. What if you get hurt and can’t play? You’ll have nothing to fall back on.”

  “I could point out that no one on my team is taking courses. We’re professional hockey players.”

  “I’m not saying full-time, obviously — but a course a semester?”

  He couldn’t stop another yawn.

  Megan leaned forward. “You know, you really might have a concussion. You’re exhausted, and you looked a bit unsteady back at the rink.”

  “Okay, Doctor Megan. Calm down. It was just a hit. I’m good. Watch.” He touched his nose quickly with his index fingers.

  He stopped. He’d begun to feel dizzy. “I don’t have a concussion, and even if I do, it’s not a bad one.”

  “They’re all bad,” Megan said.

  “Listen, Megan. C.C., the team captain, is hurt. I might get to play on the first line or at least move up to the second if they replace him with Beauclair. They’ll never move Terrence Day up. This is my chance to prove myself to Coach Mack and Floyd. This is huge. I can’t risk it by sitting out a bunch of games because I yawned a few times.”

  “It’s not worth your health.”

  He felt himself
get mad. “I have no choice. Hockey players play hurt.”

  “You always have a choice.”

  “We need the money. I have to do this.”

  “You think your mom and Maddy want you to risk your brain for hockey?”

  “Stop exaggerating — and please, don’t tell them. I’m fine. I don’t want them to worry about me.”

  Megan took a deep breath. “Can you at least get checked out?”

  “I will. We have an off day tomorrow.”

  “Go inside,” Megan said. “You’re tired and … you should get to sleep.”

  He sighed. “Sorry. You came all the way here.”

  “It’s late, and it’s a long drive. I should go, too,” she said.

  He really was exhausted. “Are you sure?”

  “Go to bed. That’s an order.”

  Rocket got out.

  “Please don’t tell my mom or Maddy,” he said.

  “As long as you go to the doctor,” she said.

  He nodded wearily and closed the door. She drove away.

  The ground seemed to rush toward him. He held his arms out to steady himself and took a few deep breaths until the feeling went away. Then he walked inside, no problem.

  He didn’t have a concussion.

  He couldn’t.

  Not now.

  CHAPTER 16

  Rocket walked along the sidewalk. He was exhausted, despite passing out the second his head hit the pillow the night before. He’d even overslept. But he was still too tired to hurry, even though he was running late to meet Rory.

  He remembered he’d told Megan he’d go to the doctor. It was nice that she worried about him; he honestly appreciated it. She just didn’t know what it took to make it to the NHL, not really. She didn’t get the sacrifice, the pain.

  Rocket went into the arena. The workout room was in the basement. He headed across the lobby to the staircase.

  “The floor just got washed!” the arena manager yelled at him. “Who are you, anyway?”

  “I’m Bryan … Rockwood. I’m with the Racers.”

  “Oh. Well, okay. Use the side entrance from now on, please. I’ve told Blywood a thousand times. You guys keep messing the floors up.”

  “Sorry,” Rocket said. “I didn’t know.”

  “Clean up his footprints,” the man yelled at a woman holding a mop and wearing a yellow uniform with a baseball cap.

  Mariana.

  Rocket was instantly furious at the manager, but Mariana shook her head at him as she wrung the mop out in the pail. She didn’t want Rocket to say anything.

  “Hurry up. You still have to sweep the upper level,” the man said to her. “The concert starts at seven, so we need to cover the ice, put the chairs out and set up the stage.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mariana said.

  “And clean Mr. Floyd’s office again when you’re done,” he said.

  “We did it yesterday, sir,” she said.

  “He wants it done again,” he snapped. “What a day. I’m doing everything myself, as usual.” He stomped off.

  “Sorry about the footprints, Mariana,” Rocket said. “Let me mop. It’s my fault.”

  “It’s fine. Don’t mind him,” she said. “He yells all the time about everything. I have learned not to listen. I just say ‘yes, sir’ and do my job. I think he’s scared of Mr. Floyd.”

  “He’s not the only one,” Rocket said.

  “Do you have a practice?” Mariana said.

  “No. I’m working out.”

  “Thank you again for the tickets. It was such a nice treat. Ricardo told me the kids had a wonderful time — and they love their pucks.”

  “Anytime they want to go, just let me know.”

  The arena manager came back. “Are you going to clean the floor?” he cried.

  “Sorry, sir.” Mariana began to mop furiously.

  “Can I help you?” the man said to Rocket.

  “No. I’m going to the workout room,” he replied, but he couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. Even though Mariana didn’t want him to interfere, it was hard to be nice to a guy who treated his employees like that. He wished Mariana didn’t have to work for him.

  Rocket hurried down the stairs and along the hall. He heard the clinking of weights. Rory had beaten him — naturally. As he walked in, he could see Nadav was there, too.

  “You slacking off because of two lousy goals?” Rory asked Rocket. He did a squat.

  “I slept in. Sorry.”

  “No excuses,” Rory grunted. He did another squat. “You’ll do an extra circuit to make up for it.”

  “What are you doing today?” Rocket asked.

  “Squats, push-ups, bench jumps, burpees,” Rory said. “Why don’t you warm up, and you can follow me.”

  Rory did a final squat and Nadav took the barbell from his shoulders.

  Rocket peeled off his sweatshirt and track pants. “Are you here to work out, too, Nadav?”

  “No, I came in to check on you, remember? How are you feeling?”

  Rocket had forgotten. “Fine … I was tired last night. Not used to the ice time, I guess. I’m good now, though.”

  Rory began to do push-ups.

  “Were you dizzy at any time?” Nadav said. He came closer and looked into Rocket’s eyes.

  “Nah. I’m fine. Seriously.”

  “Stand on one foot and hold your arms out, shoulder height.”

  “I told you—”

  “Do it.”

  Rocket felt silly. Nadav led him through a series of balancing drills and eye-hand coordination exercises.

  “Now touch your nose, alternating each hand.”

  Rocket did it.

  “Turn around three times and stand on your left leg.”

  Rocket managed that.

  “Okay, you’re done,” Nadav said.

  “How’d I do?” Rocket said.

  Nadav pressed his lips together and looked into Rocket’s eyes again. “Concussions are tricky things to diagnose. Have you ever had one before?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Sometimes you can get dizzy and suffer concussion-like symptoms from a blow to the neck or back,” Nadav said. “Any sensitivity to light?”

  Rocket looked up at the ceiling lights. “A bit after the game, but not now.”

  “My bet is you have a minor concussion,” Nadav said. “You should have it seen by a doctor to confirm it.”

  Rocket thought of his promise to Megan. She’d wanted him to get checked out by a doctor, but Nadav seemed to know what he was doing. And Rocket was feeling better, except for being tired.

  Rory finished a set of burpees. “Your call, Rocket, but if you see a doctor, they’ll probably make you sit out a few games to be on the safe side. You know what doctors are like. This might not be the best time to shut things down, not with C.C. on the shelf.”

  “We’re talking about the brain here,” Nadav said.

  “I know, and I’m not saying head injuries aren’t serious,” Rory said. “And like I said before, you got to take care of your body. But it’s hard to shake a reputation for concussions. It’s different if you’re already an NHLer. Like I said, it’s up to you, Bryan, but if you feel okay, then I’d chance it. If you feel gross and dizzy, then for sure get it checked out.”

  Rocket began to roll his shoulders back. “I appreciate this, Nadav. I’m good. If the symptoms come back, I’ll go to the doctor. I will. I have a chance to play — and I can’t afford to miss any games.”

  Nadav shrugged. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you. If you’re having any problems, then I need to report them.”

  A phone rang.

  “Shoot,” Rory said. He did a squat. “I bet that’s Melissa. I forgot to tell her we’d be working out now. Excuse me, boys,” He put the barbell down and dug his phone out of his bag. “Hi, honey, how are you?” He stepped into the hall.

  Rocket began to stretch his legs.

  “He’s a dedicated player,” Nadav said.

>   “Sure is. Hope the knee holds up.”

  “This game takes a physical toll on you,” Nadav said. “Got to wonder if it’s worth it.”

  Hockey required sacrifice. But how much was too much? Rocket did a few sit-ups.

  “I’ll take some weights off for the squats,” Nadav said.

  “It’s fine. I’ll use his,” Rocket said. He stood up.

  “He’s a bit bigger than you.”

  “Looks okay to me.”

  Nadav helped him put the barbell across his shoulders. It was heavy.

  “One … two … three …” Nadav counted.

  Rocket’s legs were burning. “How many does Rory do?” he managed.

  “He does ten, but why don’t you start with five?” Nadav said.

  “Four … five.”

  Nadav took the barbell. Rocket felt weak all over. That was a ton of weight. But if Rory did it, then he had to do it. He had to do even more.

  CHAPTER 17

  Rocket waited for the bus. He was completely drained after the workout — and he’d barely managed two circuits. Rory had done five.

  A car stopped beside him.

  “Awesome game, Rocket,” Crawford said through the passenger window. He twisted in his seat. Across the back of his Racers sweater, in white lettering, was ROCKWOOD.

  “Nice styling,” Rocket said.

  Rino leaned over from the driver’s seat and waved his Racers hat. Griff whirled his scarf. Chaz tapped the logo on his Racers sweater. These guys were superfans.

  “How’re the boys doing today?” Rocket said.

  “Totally psyched after last night’s game,” Crawford said. “Massive goals, bro. Massive. Huge win. You ready for tomorrow’s game?”

  “Hope so.”

  “Huge four-game road trip coming up,” Chaz said.

  “Definitely,” Rocket said. “C.C. may be a little banged up, so we’ll see how it goes.”

  “You staying on the first line?” Chaz asked.

  “You and Rory Colbert are a good pair,” Crawford said.

  Rocket loved these guys. It was hockey 24/7, just the way it should be.

  “Not sure where I’m playing. C.C. is day-to-day. Hopefully, he can go on. Rory’s a great player, though. I love playing with him. Big body, smart with the puck and he has soft hands around the net.”

  “Not sure about that Terrence Day,” Crawford said. “Dude’s a bit slow. I’m not getting that pickup.”