At the next night’s game, Kyla shifted her weight as she awaited the starting lineup call. She glanced over at Coach Rafferty, who was sitting on the players’ bench with a clipboard and pen in hand. Kyla knew the coach would be studying every single play and movement the JV players made.
Kyla nervously tapped her stick on the ice as the announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “Next up, starting at left wing, Number 18, Kyla ‘The Fire’ Woodson!”
Kyla glided to the center of the rink and high-fived her teammates. She heard her mom scream, “Fire on the ice!”
Glancing over, Kyla spotted her mom and Tom in the first row behind the goal cage. Her dad hadn’t been able to come. Although Dad wasn’t that into sports, he still tried to make as many of her games as he could. But work sometimes kept him busy during the evening.
The stands were only partially filled, mostly with parents and friends of the team. It was nothing compared to the varsity games, which drew the big crowds. Kyla imagined what it would be like to play for a packed arena. The pep band would be blasting tunes. The whole arena would be energized.
Concentrate on the game, Kyla told herself. Stop dreaming.
Kyla skated into position at the left of the blue circle, ready for the face-off. When the puck dropped, Bethany fought hard for it, but the Rockets center swiped it. She took off into Ice Storms territory.
Thankfully, the defense was ready. Before the puck had even crossed the blue line, Shay Gilz, a Storms defender, was on the Rockets player. She stole the puck out from under the opponent and carried it back over the center line.
Kyla sailed into position for the first play. Shay would spin to Bethany, who would then pass to Kyla. Kyla would fake out the goalie by pretending to shoot. But instead, she’d pass to Mackenzie. Mac would catch the goalie off guard and take the shot. The Rockets would be so dizzy from the fast action, they wouldn’t know what hit them.
At least, that’s how the play was supposed to work.
As Shay lobbed the puck to Bethany, Kyla skated to the left edge of the offensive zone. She tightened her grip on her stick and crouched, ready for the pass.
But Bethany didn’t pass to Kyla. She slapped the puck straight to Mackenzie’s stick, skipping Kyla altogether. Kyla blinked, stunned.
Mackenzie moved in for a shot, but the goalie was ready. She lunged to the side and knocked the puck backward.
Kyla zoomed in for the rebound, but Mackenzie had already rounded up the puck. She shot again. This time the puck slid right between the goalie’s legs.
“Aaaand, goal!” the announcer cried.
The small home crowd cheered. Mackenzie waved her stick in the air, basking in the glory.
Kyla skated off the ice for the line change. The second forward line would now take the ice, giving the starting forwards a rest.
Kyla knew she should be happy about the goal, but she burned with anger. Bethany and Mackenzie had avoided passing to her, even though their three-person play was a sure shot.
Mackenzie had taken a chance, and she’d made a difficult goal. Coach Rafferty was sure to notice.
Kyla plopped down on the bench. She leaned over to hear what Coach Adams had to say about the play changeup as Mackenzie and Bethany filed in behind her. Coach definitely wouldn’t be happy with the sudden change of plans.
But to Kyla’s surprise, Coach wasn’t angry. “Nice eye out there, Bethany,” she said. “You knew Mackenzie was ready, so you went for it. Great shot, Mac!”
Even though Mackenzie could’ve missed, Kyla added to herself. She reluctantly slapped the girls’ hands for a high five.
“Only thirty seconds in and we scored!” Mackenzie said breathlessly as she sat down next to Kyla.
“Nice job,” Kyla said through tight lips.
“Hey, sorry about cutting you out of the play,” Mackenzie said. “Next time!”
Kyla nodded but didn’t say anything. She kept her eyes out on the ice, pretending to focus on the action.
With a minute to go in the first period, Tamika, who was the center on the second forward line, broke away from the defense and landed a goal. That brought the score to 2–0.
As the buzzer blared to signal the end of the first period, Kyla heard a familiar voice. It was Tom — again.
“Coach Adams!” he boomed, coming toward the players’ bench. “I think you need to exploit your valuables.”
Exploit your valuables? Kyla thought. What language is he speaking?
Tom leaned over the railing and said something Kyla couldn’t make out. Coach stared straight ahead as if she couldn’t hear him. Tom shrugged.
Go away, Kyla thought. Please just go away.
But he didn’t go away. Instead, he moved down and started talking to Coach Rafferty.
Oh no. Not Coach Rafferty. Kyla ground her teeth. If he ruins my chances, I’ll —
“Kyla!” Coach Adams called.
With a jolt, Kyla realized she was the only girl still on the bench. The others were skating away to the locker room. She bolted from her seat.
In the locker room, Coach went over the strategies and plays. Nothing had changed. Kyla was still set up to assist.
Kyla frowned. Fine, she thought, I’ll just do my best. And I won’t let annoying Tom or perfect Mackenzie ruin my game.
But as she left the locker room, Kyla couldn’t help wondering if Coach Rafferty would even notice her.