Page 37 of The Call-Up
This is the first I’ve heard of this. Sure, we’ve traveled to watch the Hodags play on the road a few times this season now that Ander is on the team, but no one has mentioned going down to Chicago to watch them play to me.
Excitement runs through me. I’ve never been to Chicago.
“I just figured I’d invite you to meet us there since it wouldbe a quick flight,” my mom says. “I know most of the other locations the boys play in aren’t as easy to get to, or as glamorous. But we can book a dinner for everyone and finally meet…”
She’s rambling. I wonder when whoever she’s on the phone with last got a word in.
“… Yes. I understand. I know how hard it can be to book last-minute travel… Oh… I see.”
My eyes narrow and I lean in closer to the crack between the door and the frame. Who is she talking to? And why does she sound so upset?
“It’s just… I think it would be good for him.”
Good for who?
“No… alright. I understand. Thank you for taking my call. I’ll tell Ryan you say hello.”
The sigh she lets out signifying the end of that conversation sounds like the opposite of relief. Suddenly, I feel very guilty about eavesdropping, even though I’m left with more questions than answers.
I start to back away, but before I can turn around, the door swings open and my mom appears.
“Oh.” She startles, then quickly shifts her face to a more pleasant expression. It does nothing to hide the redness to her eyes or her flushed cheeks. She reaches for me and fixes the collar of my coat. “Are you ready to go?”
“Uhh, yeah!” I say, trying to sound excited. She looks like she needs it right now, and I don’t want to give away that I was listening. I hold my hat up and wave it between us. “I forgot my hat in my room.”
She smiles at that and nudges me to turn around. “Come on. I’ll buy you a hot dog at the game.”
PRESENT DAY
Brandon
Something is going on with Ryan. He’s playing like a man possessed. I get it, we all want to win tonight, but Ryan is trying not just to win, but to put a hurting on Las Vegas.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think they did something to him personally. There’s a level of aggression to his game tonight that is usually only seen out of players like Gavin Marshal.
It’s fucking hot.
It’s also very effective. We’re currently up two–nothing as we skate off the ice at the end of the second period.
“Rye!” Danton yells as we make it back into our locker room. “What has gotten into you tonight?”
Roysy bumps Ryan with his shoulder before Ryan can answer and looks at Danton. “He’s got that dog in him!”
“He’s coming for your job!” I shout over everyone to Roysy.
“Let’s not go that far,” Ryan says, but he’s grinning from ear to ear as he sits down at his stall.
Before I head to mine, I go to him and nudge him with my elbow. As amazed as I am with his play tonight, it’s still not characteristically him. Something’s up. I’ve felt it since he came by the house the other night.
Quietly I ask him, “Are you good?”
“Good?” He laughs. “I’m fucking great!”
Clemmers comes over and puts Ryan in a headlock. “You’re a fucking beauty, is what you are!” He kisses him on the side of the head, then lets him go and walks away.
“Alright!” Coach Chris exclaims when he enters the locker room. “Twenty more minutes!” he says as I towel dry my sweat-soaked hair. “That’s all that’s between us and the playoffs. So let’s get out there and play a full two-hundred-foot game. Pretend this is game seven of the Stanley Cup playoffs. Do not give them an inch. But…” He pauses and looks directly at Ryan. “Let’s also play smart. Wehave them right where we want them, and I don’t want any of you getting hurt. So keep it clean. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Now let’s go back out there and kick some fucking ass!”
Ryan
