Page 57 of Full Contact

“I couldn’t use one that was too yellow.”

Rook breathed out through his nose, which for Rook was a laugh. Varga lifted his head.

“Ask anybody who’s seen the tie,” I said. “Hand me that tape.”

Callahan tossed me the roll. I caught it and kept working on my skate.

Practice ran long because Markel didn’t like our breakout. He kept stopping the drill when a winger waited flat-footed along the boards, and we ran it again until everyone was moving before the puck reached them. When I returned to the locker room, it smelled of wet rubber and somebody’s eucalyptus body wash.

Varga dropped onto the bench beside me with a towel around his neck.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m asking.”

The screen lit on my phone on the stall’s shelf. “I need to check this.”

It was a photograph from Mark of a knife sharpener, still in its box.

Mark: Felix wins.

I smiled. Then I remembered Varga was sitting eighteen inches away, waiting.

“Who improved your afternoon?” he asked.

I ignored the question. “Rook,” I said, “am I supposed to bring anything to your dentist appointment?”

Across the room, Rook stopped working at the knot in his skate lace.

Varga closed his eyes. “I put it on the wrong calendar.”

“Tuesday at ten,” I said. “I’ve accepted.”

“Decline it,” Rook said.

“I don’t want you going alone.”

“He’s getting a crown replaced. I’m driving him,” Varga said.

“Then why did you invite me?”

“I invited everybody. By accident.”

From the end of the row, Cross said, “Can’t make it. Hope it goes well.”

Rook bent over his skate again. “Thank you.”

Heath came out of the showers with a towel around his waist. “What’s Tuesday?”

“Nothing,” Varga said.

“Rook’s tooth,” I said.

“Oh. Kieran asked about that. It showed up on ours.”

Varga looked at him. “You share your team calendar with Kieran?”