OFFSIDES
                                  by Rick Moya

                    (Spring 1994; ending added November 1996)



     I tightened the laces on my hockey skates and stood up.  Leaning
inside my locker, I grabbed my helmet and looked around.  "Who has my
stick?"
     "It's over there in the corner."  Damon Meyers pulled on his red
practice jersey.  "Settle down, Jason.  Tryouts don't start for a half
hour."
     "I know," I sighed.  "I'm just nervous about making varsity."
     "Somebody tell me why this boy's worried."  Brian Williams grabbed my
hockey stick, which was leaning against his locker, and tossed it to me. 
"You were MVP last year, and you were only a sophomore.  You're a shoo-in
for starting center again."
     I caught the stick.  It was my pride and joy, a five-foot fiberglass
shaft with the perfect curve on the blade.  I'd worked four months the last
summer to get it.
     "Not if I have anything to say about it."  Chris Jackson laughed and
pulled on his black jersey.
     "Only if you can keep from tripping over the blue line," Ron Powers
joked.  He put on his blocking glove, flexed his fingers a few times, then
took it off and tucked it under his arm.
     "Ron, how do you even move with all that gear on?" I asked.
     "Years of practice."  Ron picked up his mask, black with a red knight
on a horse, and waddled over to the door.  "You ready to warm up?"
     "Any time."  I put my helmet on and left the locker room at Ron's
heels.  We skated out onto the ice and almost ran over the coach, Rob
McDowell.  He looked at his watch.  "You boys are early.  Tryouts aren't
for twenty minutes."
     "We know."  Ron nudged me.  "We just couldn't stay in the locker room
anymore."
     "It was overflowing with cockiness," I added.  "We didn't fit."
     Coach chuckled.  "Well, then, I guess you boys can start warming up. 
Good luck."  He went up into the stands.
     "He thinks I need his luck?" I said, mock-offended.
     Ron laughed and slapped me on the shoulder.  "Now that's the Jason
Andrews I know."
     I took a few laps around the rink while Ron did stretching exercises
in his net.  I skated backwards and grimaced as Ron did the splits.
     "How can you do that?" I asked, turning around on my heels behind the
opposite net.
     Ron popped up and went back down.  "You ask me the same damn thing
every practice, and I've been doing it for eight years.  I'm a brown belt,
for God's sake."
     "Of course.  Well --"  I skated toward Ron, jumped in the air, spun
around three times, landed two feet away, and snowed him.  "I used to
figure skate."
     Ron laughed.  "No, you didn't.  I learned that same move from the same
person you did."  He popped up again.  "Maybe you should practice shooting. 
This is a hockey tryout, not the Ice Capades."
     "Whatever."  I hooked a puck out of the goal.  "Don't let me get too
many past you."
     "Just say stop if you don't want me to block it," Ron retorted,
pulling his mask down over his face.
     I skated back to the blue line, then shot.  Ron easily grabbed it with
his mitt, then dropped it to the ice and passed it back.
     "You just tell me when," he repeated.
     I took the puck, positioned it on the tip of the blade, then shot as
hard as I could.  It went over Ron's shoulder and the cord on the net
pulled tight.
     "Score one for the man!" I yelled, throwing my stick up in the air.
     "Lucky shot."  Ron grinned and passed the puck back out to me.
     This time, I skated in as fast as I could, faked to the right of the
goal, then the left, then right again.  Ron didn't fall for it until the
fourth deke.  I passed the puck between my skated and shot into the left
side.  Ron didn't move.  He was staring up into the stands.
     "Yo, Ron, where you at?"
     He jerked his head up at the center walkway in the bleachers.  "Who is
that?" he asked in awe.
     It had to be a girl.  That's the only time Ron gets that mesmerized
quality in his voice.  I looked up and my jaw immediately fell to the ice. 
Standing in the walkway was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.  She
had long blonde hair down to her waist, and she was wearing a red turtle-
neck sweater and a tight black miniskirt, which did wonders to accentuate
her gorgeous body.  She was staring at a piece of paper and scratching her
head.
     "I don't know," I said, "but I'm gonna find out."
     I skated over to the boards and jumped over them onto the bleachers. 
Taking off my helmet, I ran up the stairs as best I could with skates on. 
She must have heard the racket, because she turned around and came over to
the top of the flight I was on.
     "Are you coming to my rescue?" she asked playfully, her green eyes
sparkling.  At a step above me, her eyes were level with mine.  I estimated
her at maybe six inches shorter than my six feet.
     "Well, you looked like you needed it."  I leaned on the railing and
brushed my shaggy brown hair off of my forehead.  "Can I help you find
something?"
     "Actually, you can.  I'm supposed to have a band tryout before school,
but I've gotten so lost already I might be closer to my house than the band
room, for all I know."
     "You're lucky.  This neck of the jungle is right around the corner
from the band room.  Head out those double doors and keep going straight. 
You'll end up in a wide hall -- that's what we call 'A Hall.'  On the right,
there's a mural with a trumpet, a violin, and some music notes.  The band
room is right through the red door under the time signature."
     "Thanks."  She brushed her hair back and looked around.  "This school
is such a maze.  I don't know how I ended up in the ice rink."
     "It's easy to do.  I got just as lost my freshman year looking for the
band room."
     "You're in band?"
     "Yeah."  I extended my hand.  "Jason Andrews.  I play alto sax, sort
of."
     "What's that supposed to mean?" she laughed.
     "I dunno.  Just thought it sounded funny.  I'm last chair."  I left my
hand out.
     "I see."  She shook it.  "Lisa Smith, clarinet.  I take it you're more
into hockey than music?"
     "Definitely.  This I can do well.  I've got tryouts in just a little
while."
     "My little brother plays hockey."
     "Almost everybody in Wisconsin does."  I looked at the school map in
her hand.  "Are you new to Madison?"
     "No, actually, we just got a bigger house.  I used to go to to
Jefferson, but the school board made me transfer to Central."  She looked
down.  "My ex-boyfriend plays hockey there.  He's a goalie."
     The "ex" set off sirens in the front of my mind, but I pushed it back. 
"Maybe I played against him last year?"
     "Not unless you were on JV.  There were two senior goalies already on
varsity last year.  They both graduated, so now he starts."
     "Well, I look forward to slamming the biscuit past him a couple
times."
     She laughed.  "That confident already?"
     "Not really.  I have to make it first."
     "Well, if you were there last year, I'm sure you'll have no problem." 
She glanced at her watch.  "I better get going.  Thanks for your help. 
I'll see you in last period."
     "If not before."  I watched her leave, then headed back down the
stairs to the ice.
     "Pretty smooth, Jase.  Puttin' the moves on the new girl."  Damon
grinned from one of the face-off circles.
     "Shut up."  I put my helmet back on and jumped over to the rink.
     "Did you score?" Ron yelled from the net.
     "Not yet," I yelled back.
     "What makes you think you're going to?" Brian yelled from behind the
net.
     The rest of the players cheered as I fired a slapshot at the glass
behind him.  He just smiled.
     Coach came through the gate a few minutes later.  "All right, men,
listen up.  Face-off is in five minutes.  Red's bench is there, black's
bench is there.  Split up and pick lines and defense."
     I skated to the black bench and sat up on the boards.  The rest of my
black teammates joined me.
     "Now what?" Will Griego, a freshman, said.
     "I've done this four years now."  Chris hopped down and faced us. 
"First line, Jason, Brian, Terry.  Second line, me, Joey, Al.  Third line,
Will, Don, Chip.  First defense, Rob and T.J., second defense, Greg and
George, third defense, Ricky and Derek.  Phil, go ahead and start warming
up in goal.  Any questions?"
     "Yeah," Chip Webber said.  "How come you decide?"
     "Because I'm a senior.  You're where you want to be, right?  I just
slapped lines together."  He looked at me.  "That means Jason's not on the
first line because he's better than me."
     I grinned.  "Keep dreaming."
     "So are we done?"  Al Bernstein asked, shifting impatiently.  "Can we
go?"
     "Am I stopping you?"  Chris skated to the side, dodging the sea of
black jerseys that flooded onto our side of the ice.  I joined him and
extended my hand.
     "Good luck on starting center."
     He shook it.  "You too."
     I skated across the rink to Ron's net.  The good luck hand-shaking
routine was a tradition he'd done since his freshman year.  As I watched,
Chris shook the hands of everyone trying out for center.  He'd gotten it
that year, but last year it was mine.  This year, I realized, was his last
chance to get it back.  I was going to have to play extra hard.
     Ron was taking a drink from the water bottle on top of his net.  "Hey,
Andrews, did Chris wish you luck again this year?"
     I shrugged.  "I don't need it."  I gestured with my stick at Phil, in
the other net.  "How come you're not psyching Phil out?"
     "I haven't started yet."  Ron capped the water bottle and dropped into
the splits.  I looked over at Phil, whose eyes were stretched wide.  He
immediately dropped his helmet over his face and bent to touch his toes.
     I laughed.  "You did it."
     Ron popped up and snapped his left leg forward.  "I've been doing this
on skates since he was in elementary school."  He fell into the forward-
back version.
     I shook my head.  Here was a guy who measured in at six-four, 270,
dropping in and out of the splits like it was as easy as sitting down.  I
slapped the top of his helmet.  "I gotta go warm up.  You got this in the
bag."
     Ron grinned.  "As long as that girl doesn't come back.  Who was she
anyway?"
     "Her name's Lisa, she used to go to Jefferson, she's in band.  That's
all I know."
     "All you weaseled out of her, you mean."  Ron stood up.  "Jefferson,
huh?  Well, she made a good choice to transfer here."
     "I know."  I skated around the net.  "And I don't weasel.  It's not my
style."
     "Like you have a style.  Me, I've got the women all over me."
     "It's woman, and she's hardly all over you."  I glanced up into the
stands and saw a red letter jacket topped with a mass of curly black hair. 
Jessica Rivers, a cheerleader and Ron's girlfriend.  "Speak of the devil
and the devil appears."
     She saw us, waved, and started down the bleachers.
     "I gotta go." Ron took off his helmet.  "Here comes the boss."
     I chuckled.  "Shall I wish you luck or are you past that?"  I waved
back at Jessica, then headed for my end of the rink.
     Coach turned from where he was consulting with his assistant coaches. 
"All right, men.  We got two judges, like every year.  They'll be acting as
refs.  These guys are semi-pro scouts, from Milwaukee and our own Madison. 
Tryout will be scrimmage format, with each line getting equal time.  With
this method of tryout and these judges, we have a chance to get the best
Charger hockey team in Central High history.  To your benches, then, and
good luck to all!"
     I turned and skated to the bench.  Brian approached behind me.
     "Coach needs to lay off the Shakespeare," he said as we hopped up onto
the boards.
     Terry Brown jumped up beside us.  He was whistling a song we were
playing in band.  Terry played sax, too, only he was good.  He was second
chair and had made All-State the year before.
     I chuckled.  "You don't seem nervous."
     "Really?"  He looked at me and grinned.  "I must be hiding it well,
then."
     "I really can't see Terry nervous," Brian said.
     Coach blew his whistle, calling us to the face-off circle.
     I swallowed.  "This is it."
     Terry slapped me on the shoulder and spoke in a Spanish accent. 
"Relax, man.  Do you know what the odds are of there ever being a fire?"
     Brian started laughing really hard.  I get a little nervous when he
does that, because he stops making noise, turns blue, and starts twitching. 
I smiled and grabbed his jersey.
     "Settle down, Beavis."  I pulled him to the face-off circle.
     "Yeah, yeah, yeah!" he croaked, trying to get his wind back.  "I mean,
really."
     I looked across the face-off circle at the center, last year's third
string, Will McKenzie.  He grinned.
     "Hey, Andrews!" he said.  "While you're tripping over the blue line,
I'll be scoring the winning goal for our team!"
     I smiled.  "Probably not after I slam you into the boards a couple
times."
     "Better not.  I still have your Nirvana CD."
     Coach skated over.  "All right.  We'll start as soon as I drop the
puck.  Good luck to all of you."  He pulled a puck out of the pocket of his
Milwaukee Bucks jacket, turned it over in his hand, and dropped it.  I won
the face-off easily, passed the puck to Terry, and headed for Ron's goal. 
I stopped at the blue line and let Terry cross first to keep from getting
an offsides, then bolted past.
     Terry saw me break away and faked a shot.  He passed back-handed to
me, and I headed for the goal.  Ron moved quickly across to cut down the
angle.  I deked left, then right, then right again.  Ron dove to block, and
I wrist-shot over him into the upper left corner.  The light flashed. 
Goal.  I raised my stick and was mobbed by my teammates.
     "Lucky shot," Ron called from the goal.
     Twenty minutes later, I was sitting on the bench, watching our third
line against Red's first.  I took a drink of my Gatorade and glanced up at
the scoreboard.  It said Red 1, Black 4.  I had two goals and two assists. 
Damon had scored Red's only goal against the third line, ten minutes ago.
     I set the bottle down just as the buzzer sounded.  I glanced at the
ice to see Phil slam his stick onto the ice and Damon's fly into the air. 
Another red goal.
     "No rest for the weary," Brian muttered as he jumped the boards for a
line change.  I followed him.
     Ten minutes later, Coach blew his whistle to end the scrimmage.  The
final score was Black 5, Red 2.  I had tossed another assist to Brian
before the end of the match.
     "All right, men," Coach said.  "I'm going to consult with your 'refs'
and my assistants.  We'll have our decision in a few minutes."  He headed
for the locker room, the others on his heels.
     Ron skated over to me.  "You made first line," he said.  "But it was
tight.  Chris wanted it really bad."
     "I wasn't sure."  I started skating circles around Ron.  "We'll find
out when Coach gets back."
     "What are you worried about?"  Ron spun slowly to keep me in his view. 
"The tryout's over."
     "I know."  I skated faster.  "But now I worry about the results."
     "You're going to have an ulcer before you're twenty."  He grabbed my
arm.  "Stop that.  Now you're starting to make me nervous."
     "Hey, guys!"  Jessica waved to us from the bleachers.
     Ron rolled his eyes.  "The boss is calling."
     "Why do you call her that?"  I took off my helmet and we skated toward
her.
     "Because it's the truth."
     I laughed as we reached the boards.  Ron leaned across and hugged
Jessica with his free arm.  "How are you?"
     "Great.  Even for this early in the morning."  Jessica looked over at
me.  "You were awesome, Jason.  I remember back when you were in peewees
and you learned to shoot high.  The first game you used it, you shot it
over the glass.  Now, it's just like second nature to you."
     I grinned.  "I would have made more, but there was a huge guy in the
way.  That one I shot in the right side -- all of a sudden, there was a glove
there."
     Ron slapped me on the back.  "At least I held you to two this year. 
Last year you scored five in the tryout, with four assists.  Made me look
sick.  No way you weren't starting last year."
     "That's why I'm worried about this year."
     "About what?" Jessica asked.  "You had a hand in all the goals.  Your
closest competition - Chris -- he didn't even get one."
     "That's not what they look at.  They look at how you play.  Ron's an
excellent goalie.  Chris would have scored on anyone else."
     "And you scored two!  Stop worrying.  You've been like this since I
met you."
     I had met Jessica in fourth grade.  We both played the sax in band. 
When we had chair tryouts, I was so nervous about getting first chair, I
almost peed my pants.  I ended up with second out of four, and Jessica had
first.  The first practice, I learned that she was new to the school and
had moved into the house right across the street from me.
     From there, we became best friends.  We had walked to school together
for five years.  I had introduced her to Ron.  I probably would have gone
out with her instead of Ron if we weren't so close.  We spent so much time
together, we were more like siblings than just friends.  I called Jessica's
mom "Mom," and she did the same to mine.  We were both only children, so
everyone was grateful for the addition.
     It was me who taught Jessica how to ice-skate at the pond down the
street, and she taught me some basic gymnastic moves.  We'd worked them out
on the ice one winter, and added a lot of falling, but now both of us could
do back flips on figure skates.  That's the reason I did the spin at the
beginning of the practice -- we worked it out, then she taught Ron.  I was
working on a back flip now.  She had it, but I couldn't do it without
falling on my face.  She gave up band to cheerlead full time once we got to
high school, but we still did small-group ensemble together in the spring.
     I sighed.  "I guess you're right.  But me without worry is like a
doughnut without a hole.  It doesn't exist."
     "You're telling me."  Ron chuckled.  "Just cut it out for a little
while.  You're starting center."
     Just then, Coach came out of the locker room and walked to center ice.
     I swallowed hard.  "Here it comes."
     Ron sighed.  "You know, Jase, you're really starting to piss me off."
     Jessica laughed.  "Well, I hope for the best for both of you."  She
leaned across the boards and kissed Ron, then squeezed my hand.  "Good
luck."
     "Thanks," I said.  Ron and I skated to center ice, joining the rest of
the team.
     Coach shuffled a few papers, checked to make sure all the players were
there, and cleared his throat.  "Okay, men.  I have your final results. 
The lineup will go like this.  First line, Meyers, Andrews, and Williams. 
Second line, Brown, Jackson, and Ellis.  Third line, Bernstein, McKenzie,
and Carter.  On defense, Reynolds and Vasquez, Baker and Wilkinson, and
Salazar and Stewart.  Powers, first goalie, Johansen, second.  The team co-
captains will be Andrews and Jackson.  Good work.  And to all of you that
didn't make it, I hope you try out for JV next week.  That's all for now. 
You guys that didn't make it can go now."
     There was angry muttering as the people who got cut left the rink.
     Coach resumed his speech.  "All right.  We're gonna start practice
next Monday.  We'll have one practice from 6 to 7:30 in the morning, and
another from 2:30 to 5 in the afternoon.  That's all I can say right now. 
I don't want you to be late for your first period.  Good job, guys.  See
you at practice Monday."
     "Some pep talk," I commented to Ron as we headed for the locker room.
     Ron shrugged.  "The bell's going to ring in fifteen minutes.  I have
to get out of all these pads and shower and all that before I go to class."
     "It doesn't matter to me," I said.  "I made first line.  That's all I
care about."
     "And now we have a week until practice starts."  Ron nudged me. 
"Which gives you plenty of time to find out about that girl."
     "Would you shut up about her already?"  I pushed him playfully.
     "Not as long as I keep getting a rise out of you," Ron said, grinning.
     We showered, put on our regular clothes, and headed for our lockers. 
Lisa walked up to us while we were there.  Ron nudged me in the ribs.  I
elbowed him back.
     "Hi, Jason!" Lisa said cheerfully.
     "You sound happy," I replied.  "Tryout went well, I assume."
     "Not bad, yeah.  I got sixth chair.  First of the seconds."
     "Pretty good.  We do have the best clarinet section in the city.  All
our first seven are All-Staters."
     "First eight, now."  She grinned.
     "Well, then.  Band just got a whole lot better."
     "How so?" she teased.  "Better musically, or better because I sit next
to you?"
     "You pick.  I think you know what my answer is."
     "I think I do.  So how'd your tryout go?"
     "Oh, it was horrible!" Ron interjected, wailing like a B-grade
melodrama.  "First he only scored on me twice.  Then he only got three
assists.  Then he got kicked down as far as first line center and team co-
captain!  Oh, the tragedy!"
     I pushed him playfully.  "This is Ron Powers.  He's our starting
goalie.  He's a better hockey player than he is an actor."
     "I certainly hope so."  She extended her hand.  "I'm Lisa Smith."
     "Hope duly noted."  Ron shook it.  "The truth is, I'm a solid wall in
the net.  This guy just got lucky."
     "He is, too," I added.  "Last year, he averaged less than two goals
against a game."
     "And I allowed even less than that."  He grinned.
     Lisa laughed.  "Well, I'm looking forward to seeing you play.  I have
to navigate to my class.  Can you help me find room E-17?"
     "Upstairs, right above A Hall.  It'll be on the right."  I smiled. 
"Maybe I'll have to find you after all your classes."
     "That would be nice.  Getting around this labyrinth is torture.  I'm
half expecting a minotaur next.  I'll meet you outside my room.  Nice
meeting you, Ron."  She headed for the stairs.
     "Smooth."  Ron elbowed me again.
     "Would you cut that out?"  I elbowed him back.  "It's annoying the
hell out of me."
     "And that fits me so well," he laughed.  He slammed his locker shut
and slapped me on the shoulder.  "Good luck, pal."
     I rolled my eyes, waved, and headed upstairs to my algebra class. 
Usually, I sat in class and thought about different hockey situations.  But
today, I would be thinking about something else.
     Lisa.
     I hadn't had a girlfriend -- I hadn't even been tempted--since eighth
grade.  Her name was Lindsay.  She moved from Texas to Wisconsin when we
were in fifth grade.  She was the only new kid in fifth grade, and I felt
like a new kid -- being a girl's best friend hadn't won either me or Jessica
many more -- so we hung out together a lot.
     About halfway through fifth grade, we were known as a couple, and
rumors -- your general elementary school rumors, about us kissing behind the
school at recess(which had some truth to it -- we walked behind the school,
hand in hand, and talked until the bell rang) -- started flying around.  Of
course, when you're in fifth grade, you'll try to deny the rumors, but when
you're holding someone's hand and laughing your head off, it's not an easy
task.
     So, in sixth grade, we stopped putting the rumors down and started
bringing ourselves up to the rumors.  Jessica loved it.  She was the one
who spread most of the rumors -- some I suggested, some she made up.  We were
probably among the hottest couples in school for all three years, and
definitely the most scandalous.  Most of the rumors can't be mentioned in
polite company, but they included the two of us sneaking out of our houses
on summer nights to go skinny-dipping at the pond at the end of my street. 
I'll tell you, we almost got in serious trouble at least ten times those
last two years living up to the rumors.
     Then Lindsay moved again, to Florida.  We had written to each other
for a while, trying to stay together, but long-distance relationships never
work.  She found another boyfriend about halfway through our freshman year. 
From there, our communications gradually slowed to a stop.
     And now, three years after I thought Lindsay had gone forever and
taken all my love with her -- and all of my passion, lust, and desire, too --
here comes Lisa.  Pretty girls chased me all the time last year -- probably
why I wasn't very popular this year, since I always brushed them off.  But
this one somehow managed to revive the romantic side I didn't know I had in
less than two hours.  
     Through my entire math class, I floated, half listening to the Dragon
Lady -- Mrs. Adams -- half thinking about Lisa.  My left hand was flying over a
piece of paper, and I wasn't even sure of what it was writing until I
looked down and saw millions of little hearts.
     [This is ridiculous.  I hardly even know the girl and I'm already
falling in love.]
     The rest of the day, save passing periods, lunch, and sixth period
band -- all of which I spend with Lisa -- flew by in a sort of haze.  I might
as well have been with her all day, for the amount of time I spent thinking
about anything else.  The time I did spend with her went to learning more
about her.  I found out that her birthday was three days after mine, she
was born in Atlanta, she and her ex-boyfriend were definitely ex, and yes,
I could give her a ride home.
     "Thanks," she said as we headed to my car.  "I was afraid I was going
to have to ride the bus.  All those annoying freshmen get on my nerves."
     "You ride the cheese wagon, huh?  I hate that thing.  Even when it's
just with the hockey team.  I've never had to ride it home from school."
     "Seriously?  You're lucky.  I've been riding it since I was in sixth
grade.  Well...."  She looked down.  "Except when I was going out with
Mark."
     "What made you break up?  Was it the move?"
     She smirked.  "You could say that."
     She didn't say anything else, so I figured she didn't want to talk
about it.  I understood -- it was calling up bad memories for me, too.  I
changed the subject.
     "How long have you been in band?"
     "Since I was eligible.  I've always loved the clarinet.  I first
picked it up when I was six.  My mom taught me a couple scales, and it was
love.  I joined band in Lubbock when I was in fourth grade.  It's evolved
into my passion.  It's all I've ever wanted to do."  She looked at me. 
"How about you?  How long have you been playing?"
     "Same, fourth grade.  I've never been really good, but it's fun."
     "Probably because you spend all your time playing hockey," she teased.
     "Well, what do you think *I* want to do with my life?  I'm no
musician.  I've been playing hockey since I was two."
     She raised an eyebrow at me.
     "Okay, so it was just rolling a puck around.  But still, I've done it
all my life.  It's what I do best.  Not to brag, but I'm already being
recruited by all of the top ten hockey schools in the nation."
     "Wow.  And you are captain, after all.  Sorry I said anything."
     We walked in silence for a minute.  Then she turned to me.  "So are
you trying out for All-State?"
     I snorted.  "Why?  I'll get stomped out.  There's no way I'll make
it."
     "So you've got nothing to lose."
     "Except my pride."
     "Oh, come on.  You were perfectly willing to lay your pride on the
line this morning in hockey tryouts.  What makes All-State so different?"
     "Hockey, I'm good at.  Music, I'm not."
     "And what if someone showed up at hockey tryouts, and managed to beat
you in every way, and got your position, and captain, too?"
     "Never happen."
     She laughed and pushed me.  "So why can't you be that confident with
music?"
     "Like I said, I'm not good at music."  We finally reached my car, a
white Toyota Corolla which I'd had to park almost a block from school.  "I
know I can go out there on the ice and do almost whatever I want.  But when
I go into the audition room, I freeze.  Even for normal chair tests."
     We climbed into the car.  She waited for me to start it.  "Why?"
     I looked at her.  "I just don't know.  I mean, I practice until I can
get the music down, but once I go into the audition room, there's no
chance.  My fingers lock up and I get short of breath, and I can't play the
etude."
     "See, that's where All-State auditions will help you.  The more times
you do it, the less nervous you'll be when you try out for something.  You
must have tried out for a million hockey teams already.  Now, you can go
out there and just do it.  It's the same with music.  The more you do it,
the better you'll get."
     "Yeah.  You're right."  I looked out at the road ahead.  "I'll do it."
     "There you go.  Don't worry.  I'll be there to support you."
     I looked back at her.  "Thanks.  That means a lot to me."  I pulled
away from the curb.  "Which way do I go?"
     I drove to Lisa's house and stopped in the driveway.  It was a pretty
nice place -- a two-story wood and brick house with a big front yard.  She
grabbed her backpack from the back seat and got out.
     "Thanks for the ride.  I'll see you tomorrow."  She closed the door. 
I watched her until she was inside, then shifted into drive and headed
home.
     Jessica was waiting at my door.  "How did it go?" she asked before I
even had a chance to get out of the car.
     "How did what go?"
     "Don't play dumb with me.  You know what I'm talking about."
     "Playing dumb."  I opened the trunk and got my backpack.  "Isn't that
the job of some of your cheerleader friends?"
     She slapped my arm.  "Jason!"
     "I was just kidding."  I threw my arms up in self-defense.
     "Don't try to evade the question."
     "What question?"
     She put her hands on her hips and glared at me.
     "All right, all right.  What specifically do you want to know?"
     "Specifically, everything.  What's her name, did you ask her out yet,
is Ron interested in her?"
     I laughed.  "Ron swore me not to tell."
     She hit me again.
     "I'm kidding.  He's only interested in you, his dearest angel.  Come
inside."  I unlocked the door and went in.  She followed.
     "Did he tell you to say that?"
     "No, I just made it up.  But you know it's true."
     She smiled.  "Yeah, he's great."  Then she got serious.  "Now tell me
everything you know about this girl."
     I sighed and flopped down on the couch.  "Okay.  Her name's Lisa, and
she's a junior like us.  She's in the band."
     "What instrument?"  She sat next to me.
     "Clarinet.  Does it matter?"
     "No, just curious.  Where does she live?"
     "About a mile and a half away, in that big new development."
     "How did you meet her?"
     "Why?"
     "I'm your friend.  I want to know these things."
     "Fine.  Before practice, she asked me where the band room was. 
Satisfied?"
     She nodded.  "Did you approach her?"
     "Yes, already!"
     She smiled.  "So you're finally getting over Lindsay."
     I snorted.  "Yeah.  I wish."
     "But you're interested in this girl, right?"
     "Definitely."
     "Well, that's a step in the right direction."  She looked into my
eyes.  "You have to get over her, Jason.  She's never coming back.  I keep
telling you to get on with your life."
     "Well, this time I just might listen to you, Jess."  I stood up. 
"Wanna go to the pond?"
     "Sure.  Meet you outside."  She stood up and walked out.
     I went into my room and grabbed my extra pair of skates.  I understood
that Jessica wanted to know every detail about this girl.  She was my best
friend, and she wanted to help me.  But the odds were so low that I'd get
to be with this one.  The way she talked about her ex-boyfriend, it didn't
seem like she was really over him yet.  Of course, Jessica didn't know
that.
     The front door slammed open.  "Aren't you ready yet?"
     "I'm coming!  Chill out!"  I grabbed my Red Wings hat off the peg by
my door and headed outside, where Jessica was waiting.  I locked the door
and we headed down the street.
     "So what do you think your chances are with Lisa?" she asked.
     "Between fair and none.  I don't know."  We reached the end of the
street and slowly started down the icy slope to the frozen pond.  "She's
gonna meet more guys, and I don't think she's totally over her ex-boyfriend
yet."
     "If she took a ride from you her first day, he can't figure that much
into her life.  Besides, going to a new school is kind of like starting
over.  Besides being the first guy she met in her new life, you were
helpful and you share an interest."
     "Okay, sure.  But she's good at music, and I'm not."
     "That has no bearing.  Besides, you're a good musician.  Just because
you freeze in auditions doesn't change that.  We get high scores at
ensemble."
     "Yeah, but she hasn't seen us at ensemble.  There are sixty other guys
in band, all of whom got higher scores than me on the audition."
     "Okay, let's narrow that down to reality.  Girls don't want a younger
guy at this age.  So that sixty becomes fifteen when you take juniors and
seniors."
     "Maybe.  But what about the twenty in each of her other six classes?" 
We sat on a bench at the edge of the pond.  "That makes it a hundred and
some.  Not to mention the other guys who can give her more than I can."
     "What are you talking about?"  She pulled off her right shoe.  "You're
captain of the hockey team.  That makes you one of the most sought-after
guys in the Central High female community."
     "How do you know this?"
     "Being your best friend isn't always easy.  As for worrying about not
being able to give her 'enough,' whatever that means, you managed to handle
it in middle school with Lindsay."
     I looked away and jammed my foot into my right skate.  "Lisa's not
Lindsay."
     "I'm sorry."  Her arm fell across my shoulders.  "I know, this is a
different story.  But Lindsay's gone.  She's got someone else.  I don't
know why you haven't gotten someone else yet."
     I stared at her.
     "I'm serious!  So she was the only girl you've ever loved.  But that's
because she's the only girl you've given yourself a *chance* to love."  She
stood up.  "You've spent the last three years mourning your loss, and she's
clearly over it.  It's time for you to get over it."  She stepped out onto
the ice and skated out to the center.
     I turned my attention back to my skates.  Jessica was right.  She
always was when it came to letting go.  But every time I tried, I just
found myself clambering for a handhold and pulling myself back up.  Still,
I knew I felt something for Lisa, something I hadn't felt in a long time. 
Maybe it really was love this time.  Maybe I wasn't kidding myself again.
     Maybe it was time to let go for real.

                                   *  *  *

     I skated around our side of the ice at top speed.  I glanced across
the rink at the Jefferson Jaguars, particularly at their goalie, Mark
Slayton.  He looked pretty big and, from the shots he was blocking, pretty
good.  Maybe even as good as Ron.  Maybe better.
     I skated around behind the net as Chris called a shooting drill. 
"Hey, Ron, you're not doing your psych job on that guy yet.  How come?"
     Ron just looked at me.  "I've been skating around with you guys,
that's how come.  Besides, I don't do that until the buzzer sounds."
     "Oh.  Right."
     Ron glanced across the ice.  "Hey, I get it.  That's Lisa's ex-
boyfriend, isn't it?  Are you really that petty that you need me to
intimidate him for you?"
     "Shut up."
     "Don't worry, man.  You'll get your chance soon enough."
     "Yeah, I guess you're right.  Good luck tonight."
     "Don't say good luck.  It gives me bad luck.  But the same to you." 
He dropped his mask over his face and slid forward in the crease.
     I rejoined the team, falling into line behind Terry at the blue line. 
He was tapping his stick on the ice in time with a jazz song he was
humming.  I chuckled.  "Nervous?"
     He glanced at me.  "Terrified.  Just trying not to show it."
     "Me too."  I looked up into the stands.  The first section was pretty
much full, mostly with Central students, the die-hards that go to every
sports event.  Above them, the cheerleaders stood in the walkway, trying to
pep up the crowd in the second section.  I smiled.  The second section
crowd was always latecomers, parents, and people who hardly ever came to
games.  They were impossible to pep up until the first goal.  I managed to
pick Lisa out of the top of the first section.  She waved and started
coming down to rinkside.
     I turned back to the team as Terry shot off from his spot.  He took
the pass from Al, rocketed toward the goal, faked a shot, and dropped the
biscuit perfectly to Will, who shot directly into Ron's glove.  Terry was
probably the best passer on the team.
     I recieved the pass from him and glanced at Damon.  He took off, and I
headed for the goal.  I faked once, then passed to him behind the net.  He
slid left, so I shot across the crease with him and called for the pass. 
It found my stick, and I shot high and close.  The puck bounced off Ron's
glove, off the pole, and dropped just outside the goal.  Damon came around
for the rebound, but Ron got there first.
     "Nice save," I said.
     Ron nodded.  "I gotta do that more in games."  He pointed with the
butt end of his stick.  "Your woman's waiting for you."
     I hit him in the shin with my stick.  "I saw her already."  I passed
up to Brian, then headed for the bench, where Lisa was standing.  I took
off my helmet as I reached it.
     "Glad you could make it."
     "There's no way I would have missed it," she answered.  "Those last
two were nothing.  This is the real deal.  My old school against my new
school.  The biggest rivalry in the city, maybe even the state."
     "You know it."  Last year, we'd played Jefferson in the state
semifinals.  It was a really close game, finally decided in overtime.  We'd
all thought Ron was invulnerable in OT.  But we got proven wrong when the
last shot slipped in the corner.  Jefferson won, 3-2, and went on to take
state.  We hadn't won a state championship in thirty years, thanks to
Jaguar blue and gold.  Every playoffs loss we'd had in that time came to
them.
     Lisa glanced over at the Jefferson side of the ice.  "I'm not sure who
to root for."
     "Root for us.  Because we're gonna win."
     She laughed.  "Still confident, I see."
     "I told you I was looking forward to playing this game."
     She laughed again, looking over at our opponents.  "Well, good luck,"
she said, leaning across and hugging me.  "Beat that guy a couple times for
me, will you?"
     The hug came as a shock.  I mean, despite all my vows that it was time
to move on, I still hadn't been able to go further than just friends, and
it had been a month.  I'd thought she felt the same way.  But I managed to
say, "Okay, I'll try."
     She straightened up and went back to her seat.  I looked over at the
Jefferson ice to see the goalie charging up to me.
     "What the hell was all that about?" he roared, taking off his helmet
and slamming it to the ice.
     "Whoa!  Take it easy, man," I said, backing off.  I mean, when a 240-
pound guy with pads that make him look even bigger comes skating up to you
full speed, pissed off that you just hugged his ex-girlfriend, you're not
going to be very quick-witted or want to get slammed.  I cleared my throat. 
"You must be Mark."
     "Damn straight.  Who the hell do you think *you* are?"
     By now I had composed myself enough to be sarcastic.  "Well, let's
see.  I once thought I was Pauly Shore, but that was when I stuttered a
lot.  I think also for a full day I thought I was Stimpy.  I walked around
all day going, 'Oh, joy!'"  I extended my hand.  "But now, I'm Sonny Bono. 
Pleased to meet you."
     He slapped it away.  "Listen.  Whoever you really are, you don't go
messing with her."
     "Why?  Does she carry pepper gas?"  I was enjoying myself.
     He pointed at me as best he could with his blocking glove on.  "I'll
be watching you.  And I'll be watching her.  If I'm ever watching both of
you in the same place again, you die."
     By this time, a crowd had gathered around us, mostly of members of the
two teams.  "Come on, Slayer," one of his teammates said.  "Let's get this
show on the road.  Besides, it's just a girl."
     "Yeah, not like you don't have them all over you at school anyway,"
another one said.  The whole team, aside from Slayton, laughed crudely.
     Slayton just stared coldly at me.  "You remember what I said."  He
turned and headed for his goal.
     I turned to my team and shrugged.  "Touchy guy."  We returned to our
warm-ups.
     We got in a couple more shots, then the buzzer sounded and we went to
the bench.  I turned around at the boards just in time to see Ron's right
leg slide forward and left leg slide back as he dropped to the ice.  I
glanced over at Slayton to see his reaction.  His laughter quickly turned
to wide, amazed eyes as Ron popped right back up and snapped his legs out
sideways.  Slayton started skating around his goal, alternately tapping it
and his chest with his stick.  I grinned as I hopped up on the boards. 
Nothing like a scary stretch to make a goalie work.
     Coach came out of the bench and walked on the ice in front of us. 
"All right, men.  This is our first big game.  We demolished West Bend, but
they're not a good team.  We should have demolished Joliet, but lack of
teamwork and overconfidence made us tie.  We need that stuff left in the
locker room.  This is the game against our arch rivals.  Jefferson and
Central have been going at it since I went to school here.  Our home crowd
is expecting a big win because we played West Bend here.  And I want to
give it to them."
     "Come on, Coach," Terry joked.  "Six-oh in one against Jefferson?"
     We all laughed nervously.  "That would be acceptable," Coach answered. 
"Personally, I'll be happy if you all go out there and play as hard as you
can.  The Jags aren't expecting much after Joliet, so get out there and
surprise the hell out of them."
     We cheered, and the starters jumped down off the boards.  I crossed
sticks with Brian and Damon, as was our custom, then turned and headed for
the face-off circle.  The Jefferson center was a pretty big guy, and I'd
seen him cut around the circle to keep other centers from getting the face-
off.  It wasn't going to work this time.  I was the only left-handed center
in the league.
     I offered my hand to the center, who slapped it away.  "You're goin'
down, punk," he growled.  "Nobody messes with Slayer and stays alive."
     I just smiled.  "I wish my team respected me that way."
     The ref dropped the puck between us, and sure enough, he tried to box
out.  But he spun toward my stick hand, and it was actually him who sticked
it back to T.J.  The game was on.
     I dropped back as T.J., Alex, and Brian did a passing weave they'd
worked on in practice.  When the time was right, I bolted through, taking
the puck as it left Brian's stick.  I shot across the blue line, passed
between my legs, spun past the lone defenseman, and dropped it to Damon,
who blasted the puck as hard as he could into the upper right corner.  It
was our third game in a row with a score less than thirty seconds in.
     Our crowd went crazy. I skated around the net to face Slayton.  "You
probably thought I was out for vengeance, didn't you?"
     His eyes were steely through the mask.  "Let me guess.  You're not
that petty."
     "Wrong."  I tapped on the front of his mask.  "I got it, baby."
     I headed back to our side and high-fived Damon.  "What the hell are
you doing, Jase?" he asked.
     "I'm making him mad.  Most guys don't play good when they're mad."
     He glanced at the Jaguar goal.  "You must not know Slayton.  Of
course, you're a year behind us.  I played him all through peewees and
juniors.  Score on him once, and you never do again."
     I got the next faceoff, and we pretty much batted the disk around for
the rest of the period.  There was one close one at our end that Ron
managed to deflect into the seats.  We went into the locker room leading by
one.
     Ron dropped his helmet on the floor and slumped dejectedly in front of
his locker.  Ron got like this sometimes.  I headed over to him.  "What's
up?"
     "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," he sighed.  "Our
defense isn't enough to keep them out of my zone.  Listen to Coach's
numbers."
     "Okay, defense, listen up."  Coach walked into the locker room waving
his clipboard.  "Jefferson already has thirty-two shots on goal.  Ron's
been lucky so far, but we've still got forty minutes.  You gotta get out
there and do your job.  Check harder, look for passes you can steal,
anything.  Just keep the puck away from the goal."
     "Lucky, nothing," Ron joked.  "Pure skill."  But even though his tone
was humorous, I knew he was insulted.
     "He wants defense, I'll show him defense," Alex muttered on the way
out to the ice.  "Jase, lose the face-off."
     I stopped and stared at him.  "Are you nuts?  When Slayton's cold?" 
We gotta get down there and take our shots.  We're the best breakaway team
in the state.  I'm not gonna blow that."
     It turned out I didn't have to.  Not on purpose, anyway.  I lost the
face-off, only my second on the year.  I tried to chase the puck, but the
center checked me away.
     The wingers took the puck down to the goal, but they had hardly gotten
to the face-off line before Alex stripped the puck.  I'd never seen
anything like it before.  He put his stick blade under the winger's and
took off, taking the puck with him.  He passed it forward to Brian, who set
off across the blue line on a rocket.
     I chased him.  "Bri!" I yelled, tapping my stick on the ice.  He
didn't even glance back, just put the disk on my blade.  I dodged the
defender, rocketed toward Slayton, and triple deked between my legs.  He
dove, and I shot into the upper right corner.
     And he blocked it.  I don't know how.  His stick went up, and the puck
bounced off and hit the glass.
     I couldn't concentrate on the rest of the period.  I played in a numb
haze, getting off a couple more shots and about ten near assists.  I'd gone
down and taken my best shot.  And this guy had blocked it and made me look
like a fool.  I couldn't forget it.  Every trip down the ice, I'd look up
into the stands at Lisa(something I never do) and remember it again.
     There was only one more score in the quarter.  Ron tried to cover up a
rebound, but the Jags left wing got there first and stuffed it in.
     I sat down in the locker room at intermission still in a daze.  Brian
came over and sat next to me.  "What's going on out there, Jase?"
     "He blocked my best shot," I mumbled softly.
     "So I noticed.  He blocked a lot of your sorry, weak shots, too. 
Where's your head, man?"
     "Good question."  Chris dropped his helmet and walked over to me.  "If
not for you, we'd still be up.  You played that whole period without
hearing one thing Coach said."
     "Hey, Jackson, give him a break," Terry said quietly from where he was
sitting.
     "Break, nothing!"  Chris turned away from me.  "He's been playing with
his head up his ass for fifteen minutes!  This is what makes a captain? 
Isn't a team captain supposed to bounce back?  If we're supposed to be like
Jason here, then I officially withdraw my half of the captain's seat.  He
can't even bounce back from a blocked shot."  He turned back to me and
stared coldly into my eyes.  "This isn't even about hockey, is it?  It's
about Lisa Smith.  You're out there trying to impress her and not caring a
thing for your own team."
     "All right, that's enough!"  Damon stood and squeezed in between us. 
"Go to your corners.  We're supposed to be a team here.  Teammates are
supposed to support each other."
     "He's right," I said.
     Everybody in the locker room looked at me.
     "Say what?"  Terry said.
     "I've been out there trying to impress Lisa."  I sank down onto the
bench.  "I wasn't thinking about the game.  I wasn't thinking about our
record.  I've hardly even passed.  I -- I even trash-talked Slayton.  That's
not me.  That's some -- some *beast* trying to get a woman."  I looked
around.  "Sorry, guys.  I let you down."
     Brian clapped me on the shoulder.  "Don't sweat it.  It's tied, and
there's still twenty minutes left.  We can still win this."
     The rest of the team cheered and clapped.
     Damon looked around.  "Where's Coach?  He should be here by now."
     "I've been here."  Coach came around from behind the lockers.  "But
you guys covered everything I was going to say.  Very impressive, Chris. 
Maybe a little more explosive than I would have been, but effective.  And
like Brian said, the game's not over.  We're still in this."
     The team cheered again.
     "Go on out and warm up.  Captains, stick around for a second."
     Once everyone had gone, Coach came over to us.  "You okay, Jason?"
     I nodded.  "I will be.  I just gotta get back in the game."  I looked
down.  "Good thing you made Chris co-captain.  We'd be dead if it wasn't
for him."
     Coach chuckled.  "Then you won't mind if Chris faces off for the
third."  He shifted his gaze.  "Are you ready?"
     "I'm ready, Coach."  A hint of excitement crept into Chris's voice.
     "Good.  In the meantime, Jason, you'll change with the second line. 
Just until you're ready again."  He clapped us on the shoulders.  "Go on
out there."
     Once out of the locker room, Chris stopped and faced me.  "Hey, sorry
I had to do that.  But you were playing like crap."
     I nodded.  "I know.  I couldn't figure it out.  You did the right
thing.  We might have lost."
     He extended his hand.  "No hard feelings?"
     I didn't answer, just shook it.
     A grin spread across his face.  "You really like her, don't you?" he
said, elbowing me.
     I elbowed him back.  "Come on.  You're as bad as Ron."
     "Hey, no insults."
     The next period started with me on the bench.  It was a new experience
for me--I'd started center since peewees.  But Chris won the face-off, and
the Chargers took the disk down ice.
     I glanced up into the seats and saw Lisa waving at me.  I waved back
and turned to the ice.  Chris was right.  I really did like her.  Even not
being able to get Lindsay out of my head, I liked Lisa.  And it did seem
like she was the one at stake, in the war of me against Slayton.  But I
wasn't in now, and Slayton was looking tired.  Of course, I was sure that
would change when I did go in.
     Suddenly, I smiled.  I realized that we were both doing the same
thing.  We were out there to make Lisa think that the other was the lesser
being.  From what I'd taken from her comments on him, I didn't have far to
go.
     "Line change!" Coach yelled.  I jumped the boards with Terry and Joey,
determined to play harder and better than I had all night.
     I swear, Alex is the fastest skater I've ever seen.  He intercepted a
six-foot pass and sent it to Terry.  Terry took off up the ice, spun,
deked, and hesitated a moment before passing back to me at the face-off
line.  Slayton came out, eyes cold, to cut down the angle.  I immediately
zipped the biscuit back to Terry, who stuffed it into the open net.
     Slayton kept coming out.  "Still afraid to shoot, boy?"
     I smiled sweetly.  "We'll see."  I headed back to the bench to see
Coach waving me to the face-off circle.  I was back in.
     "Welcome to the game," Damon said, high-fiving me.
     For the rest of the game, Jefferson hardly got the disk across the
blue line.  But every shot we took got covered or deflected.  One of my
shots into the corner was magically stopped as Slayton's helmet appeared
and knocked the puck into the stands.
     "Are you trying to shake me up?" he yelled.  "It's not working!"
     As time wore down, the puck found its way to our ice.  But T.J.
intercepted it and took a length-of-the-ice shot that Slayton covered and
threw just as the buzzer sounded.  It wasn't pretty, but we won.
     "I don't believe he did that!" Terry exclaimed, high-fiving me as we
came back to the bench.  "Just you and him.  He totally forgot I was there! 
He left me wide open!"
     I shrugged.  "I guess we were both fighting for the same thing."
     "And you won."  Ron pointed.  "Which is good, because here she comes."
     I looked up to see Lisa running down the stairs toward the ice.  I
climbed onto the bleachers and met her as she came down.
     "You were great!"  She threw her arms around me.  "That triple fake
was amazing.  Mark just got lucky."
     "Yeah, I guess."  I hesitated a second before hugging her back.  "You
must have noticed my lapse the rest of the period."
     "I did.  What was that?"
     I shrugged.  "I was just shocked he blocked me, I guess."  I glanced
over at Chris, who was grinning.
     I looked back at her.  "So are you doing anything tonight?"
     She looked down.  "No, not really."
     "Why don't you come out and celebrate with us?"  The words came out in
a rush.  I hadn't been expecting them.  Obviously, neither had she.
     "Um ... sure.  It sounds like fun," she stammered.  "I'll ... I'll meet
you outside."  She hugged me again, hurried this time.  "See you in a few
minutes."  She glanced at the Jaguar bench behind me, then turned and raced
up the stairs.
     My stomach dropped.  If that meant what I thought it did....
     "Um, Jase?" Ron said.  "Good work and all, but here comes trouble."
     It did.  Slayton.  I'd totally forgotten about him in the time it had
taken to ask Lisa out.
     I turned to see him right behind me.  "I warned you," he growled
before socking me in the face.

                                   *  *  *

     "That was Coach," Ron said, hanging up the phone and walking over to
my bed, where Lisa, Jessica, and I were all sitting.  "Slayton's been
suspended for three games, all of which Jefferson will lose because their
backup is new from the freshman team and so's the JV goalie."
     "Mark Slayton should get the death penalty," Lisa growled, holding the
bag of ice to my eye.  Already, it had started to swell and turn purple.
     "It's too good for him," I muttered.  "Ow."
     "Stop squirming."  Lisa took the bag away.  "This might be easier if
you lie down."
     Ron snickered.  Jessica muffled a giggle.
     I glared at both of them as best I could, then laid down.  Lisa moved
up closer to my eye.
     Jessica stood up.  "So are you going to be okay, Jason?"
     "I'll be fine."  I gestured to Lisa.  "I've got my personal nurse."
     "All right.  We'll see you tomorrow."  They started to leave, then
Jessica turned back.  "Oh, yeah.  Tomorrow, we were going to go get some
dinner and then skating on the pond.  You two want to come?"
     I looked at Lisa.  "I think I owe you, after we missed pizza tonight
and you're taking care of me now.  Besides, it could be fun."
     She nodded.  "Sure.  We'll go."
     "Great."  Jessica looked up at Ron, who shook his head.  She hugged
his arm as they walked out.
     "I really appreciate your doing this," I told Lisa.  "I mean, with my
mom in Chicago and all."
     "It's no problem."  She lifted the ice.  "I'm thinking about doing
something medical in the future, anyway, if my music doesn't pan out.  This
is good practice."
     "Do you ever practice on your little brother?"
     She laughed.  "All the time.  He gets into so many fights in school,
he should be a lightweight contender."
     "No wonder you're so good at it," I mused.  We were slient for a
moment.  Then I looked up at her.  "Do your parents know you're here?"
     She nodded.
     "And they don't care?  I mean, it's 11:30, my mom's not here, and my
dad lives in New York."
     "My parents give me a lot of freedom.  Their position is 'If we don't
let her do it, she's going to do it anyway.'"  She took the ice bag away
and looked into my eyes.  "They said I could spend the night if I wanted,
when I told them you were hurt."
     "But they don't even know me," I murmured.
     "They will," she whispered.  She leaned down and kissed me.  It
completely took me by surprise(even though I'd seen where she was going),
but I kissed her back -- what the hell.  Slowly, she moved so she was lying
next to me, then on top of me.  Even Lindsay had never done anything like
this to me.
     But then she broke contact.  I opened my eyes to see her looking into
the distance.  "I can't do this," she said, rolling off.
     I sat next to her on the edge of the bed.  "What's the matter?"
     "Jason, it's time I leveled with you."  She looked at me, tears
forming in her eyes.  "Mark and I -- well, we're not together anymore, but
when we were...  I don't know how to put this.  Remember when I told you we
broke up because of the move?"
     I nodded.  "I get the feeling it's not what I thought."
     She shook her head and looked down.  "The night I stopped seeing him,
we were on the hood of his truck, looking at the stars.  Well, one thing
led to another, and he got the idea that he could take whatever he wanted,
so to speak.  So he ripped my shirt off.  I slapped him, told him to go to
hell, and walked four miles home."
     I almost sighed in relief.  I was thinking that he thought she
belonged to her because he'd slept with her.
     "Since then, he's been obsessed with me.  Being the first, you know. 
I thought if I got someone else, he would leave me alone.  When I met you,
that was the first thing that came to my mind, but you'd never played him. 
But then tonight, he even slugged you.  It was my opportunity."
     I looked away.  "So this was your revenge on him."
     She nodded.  "But I can't do that to you."  She looked at me and wiped
a tear from her cheek.  "Over the last month, I've really started to like
you, Jason.  Maybe even love you.  I can't just use you to get rid of him. 
Eventually, you'd find out and leave me too.  And believe me, that's the
last thing I want."
     I turned back to her, totally floored for probably the tenth time that
night.  In less than five minutes, I felt like I'd learned more about her
than I had since I'd known her.  I could only come up with one response.
     "I feel the same way for you."
     "Even after what I just said to you?"
     I wrapped my arms around her.  "Even more after that.  Nobody owns
you.  But I love you, Lisa.  And I don't need any more than that."
     She looked into my eyes.  "Mark never said that to me before.  Maybe
that's why I feel so much more strongly for you than I ever did for him." 
She kissed me.
     She did, in fact, stay at my house all night.  We didn't do anything --
you wouldn't want to, either, after something like that.  I woke up looking
into her sleeping face and thanked any god that was listening for such a
beautiful sight to wake up to.
     Her eyes fluttered open.  She smiled and kissed me.  "Did we do
anything?"
     "No."
     "And why are you going to tell your friends we didn't?"  She put her
arms around my neck.
     I leaned over and kissed her.  "We didn't have to.  It was perfect
just the way we had it."

                                    *  *  *

     Chris rocketed over to where Lisa and I were skating hand-in-hand on
the pond.  "Slayton's here."
     I rolled my eyes as best I could.  "Oh, god.  Not him again."
     Alex pulled up right behind him.  "One of you better leave.  Look what
he did to you already, Jase."
     Lisa looked at me.  "I'm not leaving.  Are you leaving?"
     "Hell, no.  This is Central turf, to coin a phrase.  He won't get in
too many licks before he gets jumped on."  I turned to Chris and Alex. 
"Just in case, though, go get Ron and Terry.  He'll be less willing to go
after me if we're all in a group."
     "We're here already, Jase."  Ron, Terry, and Jessica came up behind
us, along with a good-sized contingent of Central High students.
     I nodded.  "This'll work."
     "Andrews!"  Slayton pushed his way through the skaters resting on the
snow and stormed out onto the ice, flanked by two guys in blue and gold
letter jackets.
     Chris started toward him, but I stopped him.  Slayton stopped
approximately two millimeters from my face.
     "Nice eye," he smirked.
     "Thanks.  It was a present for winning last night.  Can't remember who
gave it to me, though."
     His eyes narrowed.  "You have something that's mine."
     I slapped my forehead.  "Oh, that's right!  Don't worry.  I'll get
your movies back to you on Monday."
     He shoved me.  "Stop playing smartass," he growled.  "You know what
I'm talking about."
     "Mark, would you just leave us alone?" Lisa exploded, letting go of my
hand and moving forward.
     "No," he smirked, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her toward
him.  "Because you still want me.  You know it."
     "Let go of her."  I slid forward and pushed him away.  He let go of
Lisa and stumbled a little, since he wasn't on skates.  Then he got in my
face again.
     "Are you going for blindness, or just the world's longest hospital
stay?" he growled.
     "Neither.  And I think it's stupid that you have to try to kick my ass
to even get close to her, but you still think she likes you.  Are you dead
to the world or something?  It's obvious she hates your guts.  Would you
just go away and let her live her life?"
     He stared at me coldly, which is usually a good sign that he didn't
know what to say.  "I'll see you in playoffs," he growled.  "And when I do,
you're dead meat."
     "I'm looking forward to it," I shot back.
     He turned, gestured to his cronies, and left the ice.  At the road he
glared at me, then got in his car and drove off.
     "Man, Jase, I didn't think you had that in you."  Terry slapped me on
the shoulder.
     "I didn't either."  I looked around at the group.  "Can any of you
tell me exactly where that came from?"

                                    *  *  *

     I saw him again at district playoffs.  He didn't do much, except point
and growl a lot.  And when I say didn't do much, I mean it.  We won 4-1. 
Afterwards, Lisa gave me an enormously long victory kiss, and we watched in
amusement as Slayton had to be restrained by his teammates.
     "I almost wish he had attacked again, Jase," Chris mused as we headed
for the locker room.
     "Why?  So you could start again?"  He had centered on my line the game
after I got slugged, since I couldn't see.  I sat on the bench in street
clothes.
     He nodded.  "That, and we wouldn't have to play them again in state."
     "Yeah.  Good point.  Though I don't think I could take another two
weeks looking like Gorbachev's birthmark moved."
     Coach came into the locker room and motioned us to sit down.  "There's
good news and bad news coming off this game.  The good news is we get a bye
into the quarters with our twelve and two record.  The bad news is that our
first game is against City High."
     We groaned.  Our first loss had come to City High.  They didn't even
let us take fifteen shots.  We'd taken our first faceoff down, as usual,
but Brian had gotten stripped of the puck before he passed the blue line. 
The irony was that "City" didn't even refer to Madison.  It was Green Bay.
     "That means we're going to be working hard in practice," Coach
continued.  "Jefferson had an off day today.  Their defense is usually
better.  And their goalie is always excellent.  I don't know what was wrong
with him today."
     "I've got a clue."  Ron nudged me in the ribs.  The team laughed.
     "It could be.  Andrews, don't break up with that girl until after
state."
     "Don't worry, Coach.  If I have my way, it'll never happen."
     "Good for you," Coach said.  "Now, I don't want to say much else
tonight.  Good job, and I'll see you tomorrow in practice."
     "Hey, Jase," Chris said.  "You guys coming with us to the pizza
place?"
     "I hope so."  I stripped off my jersey and tossed it in my locker. 
"After the last Jefferson game, though, I got nailed, remember?"
     "Oh, yeah.  Don't worry.  He's not going to risk getting suspended
from state."
     "Yeah, you're right.  He's not gonna come after me."
     Apparently, his friends were less worried.  They came storming into
the pizza place after we'd only been sitting ten minutes.  Slayton was with
them, sure, but he was the only one not carrying his hockey stick.
     He and his little gang came storming up to our table.  Ron, Jessica,
Brian, Chris, Terry, Lisa, and I were waiting for our pizza when a shadow
fell over me.  I didn't think anything of it until Terry gestured to look
behind me.  I turned and found myself nose to nose with Slayton.
     "Hello, Andrews," he growled.
     "Slayton!"  I faked a shocked look.  "What a surprise!  I don't
believe I've met any of your little friends, though."
     "Yeah, what's with the Weiner Posse?" Brian added.
     "I thought those things went out with West Side Story," Jessica
commented.
     Slayton's eyes narrowed even more, if that was possible.  "I've come
for what's mine."
     "I told you, I mailed your Gazongas magazine back last week."
     Lisa hit me, even though she was laughing.
     "I thought you weren't going to tell her," Ron whispered loudly.
     "It slipped," I whispered back.
     "Get up," Slayton yelled.
     "Are you nuts?  And lose our table?"  Terry took a napkin and neatly
tucked it into his shirt collar, affecting a British accent.  "This is such
a highly exclusive dining establishment that we'd never get back in if we
stood up."
     Lisa stood anyway.  "Mark, how many times do I have to tell you that
there's nothing between us anymore?  Get out of here."
     He pointed at her.  "You're the one that led me on."
     "I did no such thing!  And even if I had, anything I ever felt for you
is gone.  Just get over yourself and leave us alone."  She sat back down.
     "You heard her."  Ron stood up.  "Everything's gone except anger and
loathing.  Show's over.  Move it along.  You're in Darci's way."  He
gestured to the waitress, who we knew from school.
     Slayton bent over and talked right into my ear.  "Once this season's
over, you better watch it.  Because no matter what you're doing, if it's
with her, you die."  He stood, turned, and stormed out, followed by his
groupies.
     Darci set the pizza in the center of the table.  "What was that all
about?"
     "Oh, just some moronic caveman who's jealous because Jason's dating
his ex," Chris spat, glaring after them.  "Man, if he wasn't a goalie, I'd
deck him."
     "Why let that stop you?" Brian said.  "You think I rammed him into the
net tonight on accident?"
     Darci glanced over at me.  "Jason, you better be careful.  He looked
pretty mad."
     "Too late," Lisa said, wearily resting her head on my shoulder.
     I put my arm around her waist.  "Remember the big shiner I had after
the last game against Jefferson?"
     Darci gasped.  "He did that to you?  What'd you do?"
     I glanced at Lisa.  "Nothing I wasn't supposed to, I thought."
     "This settles one thing."  Terry tossed his napkin to the table.  We
looked at him as he stood up on his chair and raised one finger high in
the air melodramatically.  "We're gonna have to drill those punks in
state."
     We cheered and exchanged high-fives.
     "And we're gonna eat now," he added, quickly sitting down.

                                    *  *  *

     I skated around the rink, more pumped for this game than I'd ever
been.  We'd gotten by City High 3-2 in overtime.  Damon had scored the
game-winning  goal after a shot I took bounced off the goalie's pads right
to him.  Then we'd beaten Eau Claire High in semis, 5-2.  They were such a
long shot, it's not even funny.  But they surprised everybody and played a
great season.
     So that put us in finals.  And of course Jefferson was there.  They'd
gotten through their bracket with no problem.  And tonight, we were playing
on the same ice as the Milwaukee Moose of the IHL.  I was stoked.
     I broke formation and called for the star passing drill.  Ron plopped
into goal, dropped the puck from his glove, and tapped it to Alex on the
left.
     "It begins anew," he said to me, pointing at the already packed
stands, even though Milwaukee was almost a hundred miles from Madison.  I
looked and saw Lisa, wearing my other jersey and waving.  She had it for
two reasons:  support me and rile Slayton.
     I skated over and hugged her with my right arm.  "Glad you could make
it," I teased.
     "Uh-oh."  She straightened up and raised an eyebrow at me.  "This is
how the trouble started."
     "Fear not, milady."  I dropped to one knee and took her hand.  "I
shall slay the evil Jaguar to protect you."
     She grinned.  "Just win, okay?"
     I kissed her hand and took off backwards to my place in the drill. 
Glancing across the ice, I saw Slayton practically take a baseball swing at
an incoming puck and miss completely.
     "You got him again," Brian said from behind me.
     "Never fails," I responded, cutting forward to take the pass.
     Pretty soon the buzzer sounded, and we went to the bench.  Ron did his
splits while Slayton took off his gloves and did some kind of real fast
spinning routine with his stick.  The starters sat up on the boards while
Coach came out the gate to give his pregame speech.
     "You guys know what this means to me," he said.  "I haven't beaten
Jefferson in the state final since I was Charger captain.  I'd really like
this one.  But what I want doesn't matter.  It's what you guys want.  Go
out there not caring, and you'll lose.  But go out there wanting it, and
you'll win."
     I leaned back to Chris.  "Customary captain pep talk.  Take it."
     He shook his head.  "No, man.  You're starting."
     "Come on.  This is your last game as a Charger.  You know you have to
do this."
     He nodded and stood, jumping the boards.  He stopped next to Coach and
turned around.  "Do you want it?" he yelled.
     "Yeah!" we yelled back.
     "Do you want it bad?" he yelled, even louder.
     "Yeah!" we yelled back.
     "Then let's go get it!"  He moved to the side as we slid past.  I got
out ahead of everyone and skated backwards.  Brian saw the gleam in my eye
and held everyone back.
     "Give him room!" he yelled.  I think he knew what was coming next.
     And I nailed that back flip.  I mean, *nailed* it.  Right around my
stick, which never moved, and a perfect landing.  I raised both hands high
in the air as the crowd roared.  I saw the cheerleaders in the walkway
doing their own back flips.  Jessica waved at me with both arms, screaming.
     I met Damon and Brian at the edge of the face-off circle.  Damon was
smiling, for a change.  "Great move, Jase."
     "Are you kidding?" Brian exclaimed.  "It was awesome!  It was just
what we needed.  I think we've found a new tradition."
     "All right."  I held my stick out.  "Let's do this."
     Theirs crashed against mine, and I went into the circle.  The center
had a smirk on his face.
     "That was beauty-full," he mocked.  "Too bad those fancy-ass moves
aren't going to win the game."
     I stared straight into his eyes.  "No, not *those* ones."
     The ref dropped the puck, and the center spun to my right side, trying
to block me out.  He didn't notice that I'd started with the stick in my
right hand, so the puck went to Damon as he checked me to the ice.
     I sprung up and followed the puck, spinning around the center as he
tried to keep me back.  Damon drop passed, but I skated over it, somehow
knowing that Brian was right behind me.  He picked up the puck, took a
couple more strides until my defender dropped to guard him, then passed it
up to me between my legs.  I took the puck in to Slayton, all by myself. 
He came out to guard me, a snarl on his face.  But I'd already spent weeks
practicing what I was going to do to him.
     I triple-deked between my legs, then one more time, causing him to
dive.  Then I took the puck around the net as he scrambled to his feet,
dodged a defender, and shot directly into the five hole.  He managed to get
his legs together to block the shot, but I swept the rebound into the lower
corner before he could react.  Goal.
     My stick flew up in the air as Brian and Damon grabbed me.  The Jaguar
center passed us, and I yelled at him, "Those are my moves!"
     We went back to the bench.  Coach slapped me on the shoulder.  "Good
play, Andrews.  Reminds me of something Gordie Howe did back in '67.  Only
he missed the shot."
     "Are you saying I'm better than Gordie?"  I joked.
     He didn't smile.  "Maybe."  He leaned closer to us.  "What I'm saying
for sure is that there are NHL scouts in that crowd.  Keep this up, and
they'll snap you up after next year."
     My eyes widened.  "But I'm only a junior.  You're sure they're here
for me?  They should be looking at Slayton or Damon."
     "Listen, Jason.  This is the state championship game for one of the
biggest hockey states in the nation.  They're interested in anybody that
looks good.  So go out there and win this, or even put on a good show, and
you're a prospect."
     I could only nod.  I was completely dumbfounded thinking that I might
be going to the NHL.  Pro hockey was all I'd ever dreamed about, sure, but
I never thought I'd get drafted straight out of high school.
     "All right, Jase.  There's scouts up there looking at you right now." 
Brian slapped me on the shoulder.
     "Yeah.  Hard to believe.  Damon, you should take the next shot."
     "What am I?  Mister Selfish or something?"  Damon tapped my chest with
the butt of his stick.  "You're the point man, MVP, team captain.  You
should be shooting and winning for us."
     "Yeah, but you've got a chance to make the NHL.  You're a senior now."
     "Not as good a chance as you.  I'm not going to lose the game trying
to fulfill an impossible dream.  Sure, I'm going to Michigan State on a
hockey scholarship.  But even if I do get drafted, it's not gonna be now."
     "Yeah," Brian chimed in.  "We're a team.  I'm a senior too, and you
aren't going to see me out there taking stupid shots and praying for them
to go in so Mr. Hartford Whalers can say, 'Hey, that shot was amazing!  We
need that kid!'  We're behind you, Jase."
     "Yeah."  Chris stood from the bench.  Of all people.  I'd have thought
he'd be the one to try and hotdog into the NHL.  "You're the one they're
looking at anyway, after that back flip and five-deke.  You and Slayton. 
So go out there and kick Slayton's ass!"
     The team yelled as we headed to the face-off circle.  The Jag center
scowled at me.  "What do you have to smile about?  We're gonna stomp you."
     "Yeah, but the NHL won't be watching *you*," I shot back.
     As he tried to figure that out, I won the next face-off and tapped it
back to Alex.  He took off like a man possessed, and the game was on again. 
The puck hardly got to Central ice in the first period, that's how hard our
defense played.  Even so, theirs was almost as good, and we ended the
period up 2-0.  Both goals were mine.
     In the locker room during intermission, every single teammate came
over to shake my hand.  I'd never been this popular with anyone, including
them.  Not even during the time I was with Lindsay.
     "Okay, men, listen up."  Coach walked to the circle of lockers. 
"You're playing a great game out there.  I want you to keep it up, but
don't get overtired.  Who remembers Alastair O'Donnell?"
     "Played so hard one game, he passed out with only ten minutes gone,"
Chris responded.  "But he *was* a third-stringer."
     "Third-stringer starting in his only game of the season," Damon added. 
"Chicken pox hit that year."
     "Right.  That's the main example of overtiredness right there."  Coach
began pacing, military-style.  His voice dropped to almost a whisper.  "Now
I'd like to tell you to play that hard.  O'Donnell was the only third-
string defender I've ever had with a goal and fifty checks in one game. 
But I want you all energetic for the game.  So go back out there, play
hard, check hard, and most of all, have fun."
     "Uh, Coach?" I ventured.
     He whirled.  "Jason?"
     "You're not nervous or anything, are you?"
     He chuckled.  "Yes, I guess I am.  If we win, it'll be Central's first
title in thirty years, against our arch rivals, no less.  And you guys are
playing so well, it's starting to kick in.  I haven't been this excited
since I was here."
     "We all are, Coach," Ron said.
     The team mumbled in agreement.
     "Oh, come on.  You call that excited?" Coach barked, suddenly louder.
     "Yeah!" we yelled.
     "Now that's more like it.  Now let's go out there and pretend we're
not nervous!"
     I stood up jokingly.  "Yea --"  Then I sat down, pretending to be
embarrassed.
     The team laughed as everyone stood and headed out to the ice.  But
Coach's speech and response to my question got me thinking.  More
important, it made me nervous.  And since I'd started going out with Lisa,
I hadn't been nervous once.
     We went around the ice a couple times, then the starters went to face
off for the period.  I don't know what kind of speech the Jefferson coach
had given his team, but it must have been powerful, because the center
barely acknowledged that I had shown up in the circle.  The ref dropped the
puck, and I never had a chance at it.
     Jefferson played harder than I knew they could that period.  Slayton
had become a wall in the net, deflecting everything that even ventured in
his general direction.  And on offense, they teamed up for what would have
been assists for everybody if the pass list didn't stop at two people.  At
the end of the second, we had blown our lead and were down 3-2.
     "You guys want this title, right?" Coach asked in the locker room at
intermission.
     "Yeah," we chorused.
     "Well, Jefferson's just given you a little present.  Now you'll have
the joy of working for your title."  Coach sat on the bench between me and
Brian.  "Okay, Jefferson is the defending champion, I'll give you that. 
But we beat them twice already this season.  We beat better teams in the
prelims.  We can win this game.  But you've got to go out there and play." 
He stood and walked to the middle of the room.  "I wasn't much of a help
last intermission.  I probably got a lot of you worrying about the game. 
But now I'm confident.  You *can* go out there and win this game.  But you
have to want to."
     Chris jumped up.  "I don't know about the rest of you.  But I want
this.  This is my senior year, and I'm not going out by losing to Jefferson
again.  If you don't want it, you might as well stay here.  Who's coming to
win the blue trophy with me?"
     The team jumped to its feet as a whole and cheered, following Chris
onto the ice.  He sure knew how to work us into a frenzy.
     When the buzzer sounded to end the intermission, Ron did his splits
right then again.  It was his way of saying the game wasn't over yet.  He'd
done it before in games where we were trailing in the third.
     Brian, Damon, and I huddled at the edge of the face-off circle.  Brian
was uncharacteristically serious.  "They're starting second defense here. 
I've been watching.  One of us can go down and take a couple rebounds,
probably."
     "We need the face-off first," Damon pointed out.  "That guy won the
last six.  You only got like three that period, Jase."
     "Don't worry.  I'm not losing this one.  It's too important."
     We crossed sticks and I went to the center.  He was sneering again,
which was a good sign he was back to normal.  "Good work last period," he
sneered.  "What was that?  Two shots?  Now we see how you are in pressure
play."
     "No, you haven't.  Just keep watching."
     The ref dropped the puck, and I put it back to T.J.  For the first
time that year against Jefferson, I dropped back and watched the play. 
Damon took it up the ice, and once he crossed the blue line, I followed
him.
     Damon and Brian were passing back and forth in front of the lone
defenseman.  Brian committed to a shot, or at least it looked that way. 
Just as the defender lunged for the puck, Brian managed to slide it back to
me.  I put it over to Damon, and he shot directly into Slayton's right leg. 
Brian went for the rebound, but only succeeded in sliding the puck across
the crease with the edge of the stick.  Slayton put it behind his net to
the center, who I didn't even see.
     We batted the disk around for a while, then T.J. cleared it and the
defenseman picked it up behind Jefferson's goal.  As the whistle blew for
icing, I heard Coach yell, "Line change!"
     I stopped at the face-off circle and turned to Brian and Damon.  "You
guys hear that?"
     They nodded.  I turned, put the puck back to Alex, and headed for the
bench.  As I entered the gate, Chris jumped the boards and took off like a
madman after the puck, which had come loose.  He picked it up, went around
Ron, and headed for Slayton.
     Terry stood at the blue line, tapping his stick on the ice.  I bet he
never expected the puck to go there.  He turned, all by himself, and headed
for the goal.  Slayton came out to cut down the angle.  Terry turned a bit,
reared back, and shot.  Or at least that's what it looked like.  Slayton
dove to block before any of us realized Terry didn't even have the puck.
     "What a fake!" Brian yelled.
     "Yeah, but where's the puck?" I asked.  Then I saw it, still on the
blue line.  Chris picked it up, shot toward Slayton, deked once,and fired
the puck into the upper left corner.  The red light came on as Chris thrust
his stick into the air and was mobbed by the others.
     "That's what I call teamwork!"  Coach shouted.  The whole bench was
going nuts slapping high-fives and jumping like little girls.  Chris came
back to the bench amid a shower of back slaps and high-fives.
     "Coach, what if overtime ends this way?" he asked.  "We don't have to
share the title with them, do we?"
     "No.  After two overtimes, there's a face-off, like in soccer.  Five
on five.  Best wins."  He started yelling.  "But don't talk about that. 
We're not gonna have to worry about it, right?"
     "Yeah!"
     "*Right?*"
     "*YEAH!*"  That single word was the loudest thing we'd said all year.
     "Then prove it!  Starters.  Go."
     I took the next face-off, and the rest of them for fifteen minutes,
but Slayton constantly thwarted my attempts to win.  He probably blocked
forty shots, all on my shots or feeds, in that time alone.  But thankfully,
Ron was just as brilliant.
     Finally, after a Jefferson time out, I had an open shot.  I pulled
back to put it in the goal, and from out of nowhere, a blue streak stole
the puck.  I chased after him, stole it back just past the red line, and
shot out of frustration.  It went behind the goal, and a defenseman picked
it up as the ref blew his whistle for icing.
     Alex skated up to me.  "Man, what did you do that for?  You could have
broken away and gotten a shot before the buzzer.  Now we'll need a
miracle."
     I looked at the clock.  He was right.  I had thrown the puck away with
thirteen seconds to go.
     "Talk about your bad luck," I muttered.
     Alex pointed to the 13 on his own jersey.  "It's always been lucky for
me.  Who knows?  Maybe we can still do this."  He slapped me on the
shoulder and headed for the face-off circle.  Sighing, I followed.
     "Hey, big shot," the Jefferson center greeted me.  "After I make this
game-winning goal, I'm gonna go over there and show your woman a real man."
     "I don't think your captain would be too happy with that," I shot
back.
     "Slayer's over her.  He's got someone else.  He doesn't need Lisa
anymore."
     The ref dropped the puck at that, and I slid it back to T.J.  The only
thing on my mind was beating that clock.
     T.J. went behind the net as I streaked up to the blue line.  He
looked around frantically, trying to find an open man.
     There was nobody between me and T.J.  I slammed the blade of my stick
on the ice.  Ten seconds.
     T.J. finally saw me and fired the puck the length of the ice to me. 
Eight seconds.  I turned and shot for the goal, one on one with Slayton.
     He came out of the crease, cutting down the angle.  As I drew back my
stick to take what would be the last shot, I thought about all the times he
had harrassed me.  If I made it, he would finally get his just desserts.
     But then I remembered what the center had said.
     [He's over her.  He's found someone else.]
     And, just as suddenly, I realized I had no shot.  Three seconds.
     Right then, off to my right, I saw a red jersey.  Alex had come from
out of nowhere and was wide open.  I put the disk on his stick, and he
drove it into the open side of the net.
     The stadium practically exploded with cheers.  The whole bench jumped
up and started yelling.  This was only Alex's second goal on the season,
and he went nuts.  He streaked around the rink at top speed, both fists
raised in the air victoriously.  Since he was untouchable, the starters had
to settle for slapping me on the back for the assist.
     There were still two seconds left.  I won the last face-off and gave
it back to Ron, who scooped it into his glove and roared out fo the crease
as the buzzer sounded.  We were state champions.
     Our bench couldn't get on the ice fast enough.  Coach came out, too,
which is rare, even for Coach McDowell.  But then again, we had overturned
the defending state champs and won the title for the first time in thirty
years.
     I jumped into the fray to find myself face to face with Alex.  He was
still wired from his goal.  Of course, we all were, but not all of us had
actually shot it.
     "I told you that was my lucky number!" he shouted, stick still raised
in the air.
     "I know.  I was meat, then you were open.  Nice shot."  I high-fived
him.
     I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Chris.  "Hey, nice
assist.  For a second, I didn't think you were going to pass.  I thought
you wanted to get Slayton ... I mean...."
     "Yeah, I know.  For a second, it was really important to me.  But it
wasn't as important as the blue trophy.  You did great yourself.  You got
us back into the game, and then you tied it up."  I extended my hand.  "You
had a great season and a great career.  I'll be sorry to see you go."
     He looked at my hand for a second, then grabbed me in a bear hug.
     "Aww, isn't that nice," Ron commented, skating by.  "The little arch
rivals made up."
     Chris and I looked at each other, then as one we dove and tackled Ron.
     A voice boomed over the loudspeaker.  "Here to present the trophy to
your state champion Central Chargers from Madison is the governor of
Wisconsin, Charles Goldstein!"
     "Get off me, captains," Ron choked.  "Go get your trophy."
     We stood up and skated over to Coach.  "Good game, both of you. 
Jackson, you're a great leader.  I'm gonna hate seeing you leave, but good
luck in college.  And Andrews, that was some phenomenal play out there. 
You know those scouts are looking at you.  But don't go yet.  I'm gonna
need you next season."
     "Don't worry, Coach.  I plan to graduate."
     The speaker boomed again.  "Here to accept the state championship
trophy, Central Charger co-captains, number nine, Jason Andrews, and number
thirty-two, Chris Jackson!"
     I high-fived Chris, and we skated to center ice.  The governor handed
us the trophy and shook our hands.
     I turned to Chris.  "You want the first lap?"
     He shook his head.  "No.  You take it.  You won the game.  You deserve
it."
     "You sure?"
     He pushed me.  "Go before I change my mind."
     I turned, raised the trophy high over my head, and took a victory lap. 
The crowd roared as I slowly made my way around the ice.  I had dreamed of
this moment for years, and now it was finally happening.
     I guess dreams really can come true.

                                    *  *  *

     About an hour later, I stood on the ice against the press box, on
skates but in street clothes.  Coach had told us the cleanup guys were used
to running the last Zamboni at midnight, but to try and leave before then. 
But not even the whole crowd was gone yet.
     Chris was on my right side, and Ron was on my left.  The three of us
had already signed about a hundred autographs.  Alex was still on the
stadium steps with a crowd of kids around him.
     "I still don't believe you passed up that kind of glory," Ron said to
me, waving up at him.
     "Hey, I wasn't open, all right?  Alex was.  Besides, the captain gets
to take the first victory lap."
     "Yeah, Ron.  Isn't a title more important than popularity?"  Chris
drank from a can of Coke he'd brought from the locker room.  "If Jason had
taken that shot, we'd have gone into maybe double overtime.  We'd have had
to put in Phil.  Like it or not, you can't last forever out there."
     "You're right.  I was just ribbing you."
     The Jefferson gate opened, and Slayton came out, flanked by two guys
and a girl.  The guys I recognized as the center and the left wing.  The
girl I didn't know, but she was about five ten with long auburn hair. 
Slayton saw us and headed over.
     "Uh oh."  Chris stood up straight and set his Coke on the boards. 
"He's not going to attack again, is he?"
     "I don't think so."  I gestured.  "Look.  They're holding hands."
     "Hey, you're right."  Ron squinted to get a better look.  "I wonder
what happened to him that made him give up Lisa."
     "Are you kidding?" Chris said.  "Look at his girlfriend.  I'd do
anything for her."
     "Hey, guys," Slayton said, slowing to a stop in front of us.  "You
played a great game tonight."
     "Thanks.  You guys were pretty awesome yourself."  I offered my hand.
     Slayton hesitated only a second before shaking it.  "You think so?"
     "Man, come on!"  Ron stepped away from the boards.  "You were like
Superman in the net that second period.  You stopped everything."
     "Superman meets the Flash," Chris added.  "I didn't think a man could
get across the crease so fast."
     The center leaned forward to shake my hand.  "Hey, man.  Nothing
personal about all that stuff I said to you.  It's just how I get pumped
up."
     "No problem.  Chris used to do the same thing."
     Chris shoved me playfully.
     "Oh, yeah."  Slayton put an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. 
"Guys, this is Christine.  Chris, this is Jason, Chris, and Ron."
     She extended her hand to me.  "I've read so much about you in the
paper, but I never actually got to see you play until today.  You were
great."
     "Thanks."  I shook it.
     "Jason, can I talk to you for a second?"  Slayton motioned for me to
follow him to the goal.  Once we got there, he turned to me.
     "Listen, I know I was a real jerk to you this year.  I don'tknow what
I was trying to do, if it was get Lisa back or just kill you or what.  All
I know is, for whatever reason, I was insanely jealous of you.  And now,
what can I say?"  He extended his hand.  "I'm sorry."
     I looked at it for a second, then shook it.  "It's all right, man. 
The same thing happened to me."
     He looked at me curiously.  "You?  When?"
     "A couple years ago.  My girlfriend moved away, and I still loved her. 
We used to write each other almost every day.  Then she started going out
with someone else.  I couldn't take it.  I haven't heard from her in almost
two years now."  I looked down.  "I'm still not completely over her.  We
went out for four years.  I thought I would marry her."
     "Yeah, but when she moved, you knew she was going to find someone else
sometime."
     I raised an eyebrow at him.
     "You're right.  I shouldn't talk."  He looked around.  "Where is Lisa,
anyway?"
     "Good question.  After the game, I went over to her seat, and she--" 
I grinned.  "She congratulated me, but I haven't seen her since."  I nudged
him with my elbow.  "So tell me.  What made you decide to get over her?"
     "Well, you can probably guess, being a captain yourself, that a lot of
the girls at Jefferson made me the number one eligible bachelor.  But none
of them ever ... you know, never did anything for me.  Until I met Chris. 
She's new, and as soon as I met her, it was like, boom!  I knew.  You know
what I mean?"
     I nodded.
     "So I decided, you can't chase after impossible dreams forever.  And
that's what my relationship with Lisa was.  A dream.  She was gone, she had
someone else.  There was no way anything was coming out of that for me. 
She was the first girl I loved, sure, but there's always a first for
everything, and it doesn't always last."
     I nodded again.  He probably didn't realize it, but he was actually
helping me get over Lindsay more than anyone ever had.
     "So I figured if anything was gonna happen between me and Chris, I'd
have to think about that.  And I finally decided that she's gone, so I
should just start over.  It's made things a lot easier.  I can go through a
day happy instead of figuring out new ways to kill you."
     "When did this happen?"
     "It was like right after district championships.  Good thing for you
it wasn't before.  We might have won that game."  He laughed.  "Seriously,
I think this is all gonna work out.  I have a scholarship to Denver, and I
just learned that she's going to the University of Colorado for vet school. 
It's not always that someone gets a second chance like this.  I'm gonna
take this one and run for all it's worth.  And I'm not gonna make any more
stupid mistakes."
     "Well, good luck, man."  I extended my hand, still thinking about
everything he'd said.  "I'm happy for you.  And thanks."
     He reached for my hand, brow furrowed in confusion.  "Thanks for
what?"
     I shook my head.  "Nothing."
     He laughed.  "For Lisa, I bet."  He looked at his watch.  "I better
go.  I gotta take Johnny and Ben home, and I want to do it before Chris's
curfew, if you know what I mean."
     I laughed and nodded.  "Be careful, man.  You don't want to lose her,
too."
     "No way."  He started off, then turned back.  "Oh, tell Lisa I'm sorry
about everything, and that she's got a hell of a boyfriend."
     "Every day."
     He laughed and skated over to his friends.  I turned my head to see
Lisa and Jessica coming out of the Chargers gate.  Both of them shot over
to me.
     "What did he do?"  Jessica demanded, grabbing my shirt.  "Just give me
one reason to stomp all over him."
     "Actually, Mark just apologized for the whole season."  I pointed to
where he was still talking with Ron and Chris.  "That's his new girlfriend,
with the red hair."
     "I don't believe it.  I'm gonna go see for myself."  Jessica skated
off.
     Lisa put her hand in mine.  "I don't think I've ever heard you call
him Mark before."
     "Well, I don't think he's ever treated me civilly before."  I gestured
to Jessica, still in her short cheerleader skirt.  "Isn't she cold?"
     "I asked her that.  She said it doesn't bother her."  She turned to
me.  "Did Mark really apologize?"
     "Yeah.  He also told me to tell you that your boyfriend's a great
guy."
     "Ah, you tell me that all the time," she joked, putting her arms
around my waist.  "I'm really proud of you today."
     "For what?  He apologized to me first."
     "That's not was I saw.  You had the chance to burn him, to prove once
and for all that you were 'superior' or whatever goes on out there. 
Instead, you forgave him before he ever apologized when you gave it to
Alex.  Right there, you knew he was sorry, and you accepted it."
     "Really?  I thought I was just passing to the open man," I joked,
leaning down to kiss her.
     After a few seconds, Lisa pulled away, a confused look on her face. 
"Wait a minute.  If he got over it long enough ago to have a girlfriend
tonight, then what was that baseball swing after you kissed my hand?"
     "I asked him about that," Ron answered, skating up behind me.  "Turns
out he was just really pumped up."

                                    *  *  *

     Dear Lindsay,

          Sorry I haven't written in such a long time.  I know I should
     have, but there were some things that were going on.  I didn't feel
     like it would be right, writing to you about your boyfriend when I
     still felt like that was me.
          Well, the reason I'm writing now is that I'm finally over it. 
     Thanks to the powers that be, I've finally found another girl that
     rivals you in compassion, tenderness, and friendship.  Her name is
     Lisa, and she's new here this year.  I'm really good at snapping up
     the new girls, aren't I?  Anyway, we've been dating for about four
     months.
          I really want to apologize for ending things the way I did.  You
     were everything to me, and you found someone else.  I couldn't take
     it.  I mean, really couldn't take it.  There was nobody between you
     and Lisa, not even a passing fancy.  But now, if it's okay with you,
     I'd like to start over again.  As friends.  It can happen now.
          One of my friends(not Jessica) said that we can't hold on to our
     impossible dreams forever.  He made me realize that we were not meant
     for each other, no matter how we might have felt in junior high.  He
     also made me realize what a fool I was for ending our friendship.  I
     wish I hadn't.  I hope you can forgive me.
          My friend also said that not everybody gets a second chance.  I
     hope you can bring yourself to give me one.
          In other words, I'm prostrate at your feet, begging for your
     forgiveness for this humble servant!  (Just in case you thought I'd
     changed.)  Write back and tell me what's going on on your end.
                                        Your friend,
                                        Jason

     I skimmed over the letter once more before folding it and stuffing it
into the envelope.  Mark was right.  It was time to let go of my fantasy
and hold on to what I had.
     The strange thing was, I didn't really feel any horrible separation by
it.  Maybe it was because I was so convinced Mark knew what he was talking
about.  Maybe it was because I'd been over her a long time and didn't let
myself see it.
     Or maybe it was because I'd been with Lisa long enough to realize that
now is what was important.
     I addressed the letter and put a stamp on it.  On my way out to the
mailbox, Jessica intercepted me.
     "Are you really doing it?"
     I nodded and showed her the address.
     "Finally.  I'm proud of you, Jason.  Finally my reasoning makes sense
to you."
     "You had nothing to do with it.  It was all Mark."
     She shoved me.  "Well, what are you waiting for?  Drop it in."
     I looked at it and sighed.  "Well, here goes."  I opened the mailbox
door and slid the letter inside.  The door slammed shut, and I sighed in
relief.
     "There.  Don't you feel better?"  Jessica looked at the mailbox.
     I nodded.  The wave of relief washed over me, finally clearing away
the obstructions to my vision.  The past was the past, and the future was a
blank slate.
     It was time to start over.