Page 132 of The Off Limits Captain
Third rep, Finn runs the drill exactly right. Clean timing, puck on tape.
Fourth rep, Colt misses the outlet and the whole sequence dies ugly.
“Again,” Coach says.
Colt groans. “The puck took a weird bounce.”
“Puck doesn’t know that,” I say.
“Morally, this is on the ice.”
“Morally, get back.”
Colt gets back, still muttering.
The drill resets. Finn cheats high again. Subtle. Just enough to be wrong.
“Finn.”
Finn circles back. His shoulders are up near his ears. He blinks fast in the arena light.
“Stay patient through the first wave.”
“I know.” Sharp.
“You’re coming in early.”
“I said I know.” Something off under it.
I let it go.
Sixth rep. Finn takes wall contact, absorbs it wrong, staggers one step, recovers in time for the play to develop. Nobody says anything. The drill keeps moving.
Evan glides past me after. Low: “He took that weird.”
“Angle.”
“Mm.” He does not sound convinced.
I do not answer.
The next rep starts before the whistle is fully out of Coach’s mouth.
Finn jumps early.
Not a little.
Two hard strides, stick down, shoulder already set like he is trying to erase the last thirty seconds through someone else’s ribs.
“Finn,” I bark.
Too sharp.
Too public.
He hears the correction and goes harder.
Colt turns for the outlet at the wall. Finn closes on him from the wrong side and finishes the contact anyway, shoulder catching shoulder, both of them slamming into the boards hard enough to make the glass jump.
