Direct hit.
Adrenaline floods my system, and I grab another. I have no idea why the pucks are here, but I’m not about to let them go to waste.
This is bullshit.
Bang!
The team spiraling.
Bang!
The fact that I’m the only one who seems to care.
Bang!
The fact that my own father doesn’t believe in me.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Nothing I’ve done has made a damn bit of difference.
I draw back my arm and send another puck hurtling toward the door.
It makes the same satisfying thud, and I reach for a fresh one.
Fuck Banks.
Bang!
“Guys, are you seeing this?”
I don’t know who’s speaking, and I don’t care. I’ve tried getting through to them, and what do I have to show for my efforts? An on-ice fight that will make the Gliders the laughingstock of the league, and me along with them.
I hurl another puck at the door, and the thump is suddenly louder.
Because the idiots have stopped fighting.
The locker room is silent except for the sounds of the pucks hitting the door, which is somehow even more satisfying.
“Dude. She looks just like Coach when she’s angry. I’m not the only one who sees it, right?”
There’s a murmur of agreement.
“She throws pucks just like he does too.”
That last one is Knox. I’d know his voice anywhere, but still, I don’t stop.
If I’m going to get fired, I might as well go out in a blaze of glory. I throw another puck, savoring the thud that reverberates through the room.
“Oh, shit. I…I, uh, think we screwed up.”
“You think?” Knox snarls. “We need to fix this right fucking now.”
“This feels like a captain duty,” Dvorak says, clapping him on the back.