Page 122 of The Recovery Coach
Hazy covered his chest with his hands and pretended to die.Her insult and his reaction to it made Livy giggle.
“Are we ready to go?”Hazy asked when he finished being dramatic.
“Yeah,” Dylan said.They drove for a few minutes, random TikTok sounds playing from Dylan’s phone.Then Dylan yelled, “Oh!”
Hazy jumped.“Jesus, dude!Where’s the danger?”
Dylan laughed.“Sorry, I forgot Cassie and Livy hadn’t met.”
“Only I’m allowed to call her Livy,” Hazy said.
Livy reached over and pinched the underside of his arm.Cassie’s hand reached into the front seat to give Livy an awkward handshake.
“Cassie, Livy.Livy this is Cassie, but at the rink she goes by Cherry Bomb,” Dylan said, ignoring Hazy’s comment altogether.
“Oooh.I like it,” Livy said.“Why do they call you that?”
Dylan snorted.A proud grin spread across Hazy’s face.
“Oh, you’ll see,” he said.
“How do you know Hazy?”Cassie asked.
“We’re best friends.Like you guys,” Livy said.
At the same time, Dylan said, “They’re bumping uglies.”
Silence descended upon the car until Hazy burst out laughing, unable to take it anymore.His face was probably bright red.Livy’s cheeks were splotchy, and a glance in the rearview mirror confirmed both kids were violently blushing as well.
The car erupted into nervous laughter with Hazy, and he had to pull over so he didn’t kill them all.They all giggled until their bellies ached and tears streamed down their faces.
When they’d all had a chance to catch their breath, Hazy pulled into the flow of traffic.
Cassie said, “Huh.You’re way too pretty for him.”
“Wow,” Hazy said.“Shots fired.”
“She’s not wrong,” Dylan said.
Hazy reached across the console to squeeze Livy’s thigh.
“No.She’s not wrong.”
Livy, Dylan, and Hazy watched forty-three minutes of the game before Cassie pulled a move that had earned her the Cherry Bomb nickname.
The little red-headed firecracker had shown massive promise when she’d started playing peewee hockey.She almost hadn’t played because hockey is an expensive-as-fuck sport and she didn’t come from a well-off background.
It took one trial Learn-To-Play game with her as goalie at the practice facility for Hazy and Lover to insist she keep playing.Her dad refused to accept the scholarship they offered for her admission and gear, so they’d pulled strings with their brand sponsors and got the entire kid’s league outfitted with new equipment.
Making hockey free for disadvantaged kids to play at several facilities around the city was one of Hazy and Lover’s proudest accomplishments as athletes.
While Cassie’s talent had been apparent immediately, her nickname was new.
On the ice, a player from the other team crowded Cassie’s crease.Cassie cross-checked them.Hard.The player whirled around and slashed her pads with their stick in retaliation.They sat close enough to see Cassie’s lips move, but they couldn’t hear her.Hazy knew her well enough to know she’d delivered a brutal chirp.
The kid’s gloves came off.Cassie cross-checked them again.A whistle blew, a ref’s arm flying into the air.
Cassie took a swing at the kid, and one of Cassie’s defensemen blocked her arm, forcibly pulling her out of the scrum.She struggled against her own team members.The audio booth played the Joan Jett song she’d derived her nickname from.
