Page 84 of Wild Card 13

The game settled into a rhythm after that.

Northbend attacked.

Recovered.

Reset.

Ty never stopped moving.

Even without the puck, he was impossible not to watch.

He chased every loose puck like it had personally insulted him. Backchecked harder than anyone else on the ice. Then immediately tried something completely unnecessary the next shift simply because he could.

Coach Whittaker slammed the bench door. "Burns!"

Ty looked over innocently while still skating. "What?"

"You trying to make the highlight reel or win the damn game?"

A grin split across Ty's face. "Can I pick both?"

The entire student section erupted.

Coach pinched the bridge of his nose. Even the assistant coach looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"You know," Naomi said, "I'm beginning to understand why your father gets migraines."

Northbend regained possession.

The puck worked its way around the offensive zone before landing on Ty's stick just inside the right circle.

Everything slowed.

I'd seen enough hockey to recognize what everyone else recognized at the exact same moment.

Space.

Just enough.

Ty saw it too.

He shifted his weight, pulled the puck around one defender's stick, and snapped a wrist shot through a screen before the goalie ever finished squaring to him.

The red goal light flashed.

The arena exploded.

Ty disappeared beneath a pile of navy jerseys as teammates launched themselves toward him.

Arlo was already on his feet yelling loud enough to embarrass everyone sitting within three rows.

Naomi clapped politely.

I didn't realize I was standing until Ty looked toward the glass.

Toward me.

His smile got even bigger.