Page 154 of Wild Card 13

“Luce—”

“Burns!” Coach shouted from down the hall. “Team photo. Now.”

My eyes closed.

Lucy stepped back immediately, smile still on her face. “Go.”

“My face is in high demand.”

“I know. Very tragic for you.”

I caught her hand and squeezed it once before letting go. “Don’t move.”

Her expression softened. “Nobody changes seats once the game starts, remember?”

I wanted to kiss her.

I wanted to stay.

But I turned because half my team was shouting for me near the section championship plaque and Coach looked like he might physically drag me if I delayed much longer.

That was the first time that night hockey took me from her after I had reached her.

I did not think of it that way then.

Then, it was just a photo.

Just one more thing to do.

Just the natural order after a win.

You scored. People wanted you.

You played well. People needed you.

You had a future. People started stepping into it before you understood they were making room.

By the time we reached the parking lot, the cold had sharpened. Breath lifted white beneath the lights. Students ran between cars still chanting the fight song. Horns honked. Someone had tied a Northbendflag around the roof rack of a station wagon and was hanging half out the window while his father yelled at him to get back inside before he died celebrating.

Betsy sat crooked near the back of the lot.

Lucy noticed immediately. “You know there are painted lines for a reason,” she teased. “You were taking up one and a half spots.”

“Greatness requires space.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

My family gathered a few cars away, still debating Matt’s. Dad was talking to Thane in a low voice near his truck. Kendrick was loading Grandma Ruth’s tote into the backseat while complaining that the thing weighed more than a furnace. Mom waved at us like she was pretending not to give us privacy.

Naomi and Arlo were arguing about whether nachos counted as dinner.

For once, nobody came closer.

I opened Betsy’s passenger door and put my skate bag behind the seat.

Lucy leaned in. “It smells like something haunted your equipment bag.”

“She’s sensitive.”