CHAPTER 7

MARAUDER MADNESS

On Tuesday afternoon, Kyla spotted her mom’s van in the school parking lot. The Ice Storms had won their game against the Rockets 5–0, and now they were ready to try for another victory against the Moss Lake Marauders today. Since Moss Lake was only a town over, parents were driving the players to the away game.

Kyla’s stomach twitched with a combination of nerves and excitement. It was her second chance to show Coach Rafferty what she could do.

As Kyla was about to hop into her usual place in the front seat, she froze. Tom was sitting there, waving.

Kyla groaned. Why did Tom have to be here? She’d wanted to spend the drive gearing up for the game and listening to the new playlist she’d made.

Last season, whenever her mom drove her across town to games, they’d blared Kyla’s game playlist. They had a ritual. Now Tom had broken it.

“Fire!” Tom greeted her as she slid into the backseat. “Ready to heat up the ice?”

“Mm-hmm,” Kyla answered. She gave her mom a glare in the rearview mirror.

“I invited Tom to tag along,” Mom said. “He was going to meet me there, but this saves on gas.”

“Do you need some gas money, Tom?” Kyla asked. “I have some money I earned from babysitting that I could give you.”

A tense silence fell over the van. Kyla caught her mom’s eye again in the mirror and knew she’d be in trouble later. Mom did not like any mouthing off.

“So,” Tom said, breaking the silence, “I called Coach Adams the other day.”

Sweat broke out on Kyla’s neck. “What?” she said. “You called? Why? What did you say?”

“I had a great idea on how you could get more playing time,” Tom answered.

“Oh, really?” Kyla couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice, even though her mom was eyeing her in the mirror again.

“I told her to switch out the center, Number 77. Bethany something? I suggested she play you as the center.”

“Why would you do that?” Kyla snapped. “I like playing wing.”

“You need to show the coach you’re versatile,” Tom said. “You’d make a great center. And you’d still play wing, but on the second forward line. So you’d be out on the ice twice as much.”

“That’s not how it works, Tom,” Kyla informed him. “Mackenzie, Bethany, and I are the starting forward line. We work well together. We’re not changing!” Kyla felt her voice rising. “Do you know anything? Have you ever even played hockey?”

“Kyla!” Her mom’s voice was stern. “Tom’s just trying to —”

“I don’t care,” Kyla interrupted. She popped in her earbuds and turned on her playlist, dialing the volume up to drown out everything else.

Turning her eyes to the window, Kyla watched the trees whipping past. She was glad she’d be riding home with her dad tonight.

* * *


Kyla tried to forget about what had happened with Tom, but she couldn’t hold it in when she saw Ana in the locker room.

“He actually told Coach Adams to change up the starting line,” Kyla said. “Can you believe it?” She slammed her bag down with emphasis. “What is he going to do next?”

“Yikes. He’s like a ticking Tom-bomb,” Ana joked. “You never know when he’ll go off.”

Just then Coach Adams walked into the locker room. “We’re doing a little switch-a-roo of the forward lines tonight,” she announced.

Kyla’s heart pounded. A switch? she thought.

“Tamika, you’ll replace Kyla as starting left wing. Kyla, you’ll play center on the second forward line.”

Kyla swallowed. She couldn’t believe she’d been removed as a starter! Despite her recent slip-ups, she was still one of the best players on the team.

This has to be Tom’s doing, she thought angrily. Coach is getting revenge for Tom butting in.

“Coach Adams,” Kyla blurted out. “We haven’t even practiced the new lineup. Are you sure we —”

“Of course I’m sure!” Coach Adams said. “Practice the new forward lines during warm-up.”

Out on the rink, Kyla skated to Ali Donalds and Mandi Thomas, the two wings of the second forward line. They practiced passing as the warm-up clock ticked down. Kyla couldn’t help but watch as Mackenzie, Bethany, and Tamika easily slapped pucks back and forth. It was as if they’d been playing together for ages.

Kyla passed to Ali. Ali missed, and the puck flew by her. She scrambled after it.

Mackenzie wouldn’t have missed, Kyla thought with a sigh. I might actually miss playing with her.

Now, she was stuck with two girls who weren’t as skilled. She’d really have to shine if she wanted to impress Coach Rafferty.

I can’t mess this up, Kyla thought.

* * *


Marauders fans filled the home section at the start of the game. The announcer called the starting lineup, and Kyla could hardly bear to watch when Tamika skated into the place she’d once held.

From the stands, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tom’s shouted, “Where’s the Fire?”

Thanks, Tom, Kyla thought as she skated to the bench. Way to make it worse.

The ref dropped the puck at center. In no time at all, Bethany shot to Mackenzie, who sent the disc sailing into the net. The goal horn blared.

Kyla cheered halfheartedly. Once again, Mackenzie had scored within the first minute of the game. Kyla glanced over at Coach Rafferty, who was sitting at the far end of the bench. The coach was scribbling something onto her clipboard.

At the next line change, Kyla skated onto the ice to take her new position as center. The Marauders center, Number 9, crouched in front of her as they waited for the puck to drop. She held her stick tight like a weapon and stared Kyla down.

“Better watch out,” the girl snarled. “By the end of the game, the Zamboni will be wiping the Ice Storms off the ice.”

Kyla glared back at her opponent. So that’s how the Marauders play, she thought.

The ref skated into place, puck in hand. Kyla snapped the puck to Ali before the other center even realized it had dropped.

Ali skated across the blue line and hesitated. Kyla zoomed past her, wide open for the pass. Ali knocked the puck to Kyla’s stick.

Suddenly Kyla was flat on her back, her legs flailing and her stick in the air. She lay on the ice for a second, stunned. She hadn’t even seen a defender coming toward her.

FWEEEET! The ref’s whistle shrieked. Kyla scrambled to her feet.

“Penalty! Marauders Number 22, for tripping. Ice Storms Number 18, for slashing. Minor penalties, two minutes each.”

Slashing? Kyla thought, furious. Unbelievable. She’d just been trying to hold onto her stick when Number 22 tripped her.

Kyla felt the arena’s eyes on her as she skated to the penalty box. She slammed the door shut.

The next two minutes felt like the longest minutes of Kyla’s life. Marauders fans, excited by the penalties, screamed and pounded on the glass.

Ali and Mandi passed the puck back and forth in front of the goal. Neither girl tried to take a shot.

Kyla could hardly watch. If she hadn’t gotten a penalty, the Ice Storms would have had a five-on-four power play. Kyla could’ve scored easily. Instead she was stuck in the box with a penalty that she didn’t deserve.

One minute into the penalty, a Marauder slammed the puck past Ana and into the net. The home crowd went wild and screamed, “Sieve! Sieve! Sieve!” at Ana.

It’s all my fault, Kyla thought. I should’ve been paying more attention to Number 22.

Tom’s words floated into her brain. Multiply your concentration.

“Shut up, Tom,” Kyla muttered to herself. “Just shut it.”