k a r r i s

✖

It was ten minutes before game time and Calum was nowhere to be found. We searched everywhere for him. Called his phone, called his parents, and even called his girlfriend. Calum was missing in action and we weren't sure what to do. One of the biggest games of the season was about to happen and one of our players had disappeared.

Dressed in their padding and uniform, the Willowridge Thunderbirds all sat sparsely on the wooden benches of the locker room. Worry engraved their faces as they each tried different means to get ahold of the dark, shaggy-haired number thirteen. 

"We should've known something was wrong when he didn't show up to the pregame pig fest," Luke thought out loud.

"Especially since David's mom brought enchiladas, and those are Cal's favorite," Michael justified. He held onto his phone, staring at the screen in hopes that our teammate would call him back.

I gazed down at my own screen, hoping the same thing. I almost wanted to divide the team into players and searchers, or to forfeit the match because one of our own needed us. But when Coach Benson walked back into the locker room, his face etched with both relief and worry did I realize we were about to get a dose of it too.

"Calum's mom called," Coach told us, and immediately the bustle of the locker room ceased.

"What'd she say?" Ashton peeked his head around a set of lockers.

"He was with his older sister," Coach sighed. "He was having a panic attack and asked to be picked up by her."

"Panic attack?" I repeated in curiosity, cocking my head to the side in puzzlement.

It never occurred to me that Calum had panic attacks, or ever showed signs that thee Calum Hood, Mr. Popularity, had any type of issue in the first place. But now, my heart was with him. I hoped that whatever darkness was harboring within his soul, would subside.

The locker room echoed with voices of wonder and conspiracies. It seemed like the majority of the team had no idea of Calum's mental health. It wasn't until my eyes landed on Ashton, did I have a feeling that the team captain knew something we didn't. He stood with his back against the lockers, arms crossed above his chest and his facial expression dripping with an array of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. While I wanted to grab him by the hand, take him outside and ask what was going on, Coach Benson had a different plan.

"Now that we know of Calum's whereabouts, and that his mother assures us that he will be okay," Coach Benson informed. "It's time for us to win this game... Ashton?"

Ashton lifted his eyes from the ground to Coach.

"Wanna give the team the talk?"

With a sigh, Ashton nodded his head, "yea."

Coach Benson stepped to the side and let Captain take the spotlight. The voices of our teammates dulled down to whispers and then to silence. I looked at Ash who smacked his two hands together.

"Alright team, it's a big one," Ashton's voice boomed throughout room, echoing against the metal lockers and ringing in our ears.

"My dick? Tell me something I don't know," Michael snickered, not missing a beat, and I face palmed myself.

"Shut up," Ashton groaned. Michael only chuckled to himself in response. "Continuing on, we've got this. We trained too hard for too long to not have this. It's going to be brutal, and we might get hurt out there, but this game is ours."

The team ruptured into excited jeers, inspired by our Captain's words. I grinned, darting my eyes from player to player, pleased to witness the electrifying zeal flooding their veins. I was riled up too, thrilled to play a game I wasn't physically playing.

"I want to give a special shoutout to both our Coaches," Ashton paused to smile at Coach Benson, and then to me— my heart jittered. "Coach Benson, you've worked us harder than any year I've been on the team. Every practice is torture, but every practice we get so much better."

"It's because you all have great potential. I torture you on the ice, so when you're off it, you still have that same drive, discipline, and strength," Coach Benson explained, his deep voice resonating with power.

"And to you," Ashton stepped closer to me, a glint in his eyes, and I held my breath. "This team soars because you are the wings. Karris, we owe you a lot. For being our coach, number one fan, and best friend on the ice, and off... Thank you."

I could've had another juvenile heart attack and wouldn't mind. Ashton's words grasped onto my heart strings and tugged on them in the most perfect way. I felt so appreciated, and so loved. Ashton made me feel like a warm, summer evening; a peaceful Sunday morning; a girl who could do anything.

It was an odd sensation that prickled my skin because Gabe leaving this Earth gave me an opportunity to shine as an individual. His departure forced me to be the best version of myself, and while I still wished my twin were right by my side, him letting go of my hand was exactly what I needed to just be me.

"Hands in the middle," Ashton bellowed, brandishing his own arm outwards. "This one's for Gabe and for Calum."

The team followed suit, placing their own hands above Ashton's. Coach Benson placed his hand down, and I placed mine on top, finishing off our team huddle.

"Thunderbirds on three," Ashton called out. "One, two..."

"Thunderbirds!"

"Wildcats!"

"God damnit Clifford!" Ashton roared, gawking at Michael with narrowed eyebrows.

Michael only stood there with his hands up in defense, shrugging before surrendering himself into a chuckle. The rest of the team bursted into giggles too, myself included, and it wasn't long till Ashton gave in and a dimpled smile formed on his face.

"Let's go!" Luke screamed at the top of his lungs, eliciting war cries from the rest of the team as they all walked out of the locker room and towards the tunnel.

Coach Benson and I followed the boys out, and from a distance I could hear the rambunctious cheers of the crowd. It was all so surreal to me. Most high schools, especially in California, highlighted their football teams to the utmost extent. But here, in a small coastal town, hockey was their reigning sport.

I stood before the tunnel into the ice rink. Shallow, but deep with memories of all the hockey teams before us, I stared at the bright white light at the end. The cheering was loud, booming in my eardrums with passion. A few moments later and the hockey team walked through the tunnel. Their skates hit the ice and the crowd grew rabid with excited shrieks.

"Ready?" Coach Benson looked down at me with a smile.

I nodded with a grin, "yea Coach. Let's win this thing!"

Coach Benson chuckled in expense, and began the trek through the tunnel. I followed him, taking long, confident strides into the hockey rink. The moment my eyes met the florescent lights and the happy expressions of the crowd around me, I felt an upsurge of energy.

I looked across the distance to see the Brampcrest team in all their glory. Crisp uniforms to match their callous expressions, I could sense that they were bloodthirsty to win. Amongst the robotic players, was Sebastian Grey. There was a certain kind of malice gushing out of him, and when he caught glimpse of me, I could only see the gruesome memory of the bullet pelting into my brother's head.

Sebastian still made my entire soul tremble; but I guess cold-hearted murderers will do that to you. However, it wasn't just fear that I was feeling, it was anger too. I was angry that he got away with a slap on his wrist, angry that he was able to jump back into a normal life while my family and Gabe's friends we're stuck in perpetual mourning. Whether it was white privilege, his family's monetary richness, the fact that he threatened me with a gun to my head, or all three combined, Sebastian was without a doubt, living a sweet life he did not deserve.

"Please all stand for The National Anthem," an announcement over the speakers flooded our ears, cueing us all to pay attention to the deep voice. "Welcome Willowridge High's very own, Mollie Santos."

"Of course she sings," my left eye twitched in irritation.

I don't hate Mollie, I promise you, but my heart was still chipped after losing a boy I never really had. And as I watched Mollie in all her Latin radiance, walk across the black carpet atop the ice to the center of the rink, I couldn't help but to feel a little less confident.

Ashton noticed.

I didn't even realize he was gazing at me till I switched my attention from Mollie to the team who stood proudly on the ice. While everyone watched the stunning girl holding the microphone, Ashton was watching me. His eyes pierced straight into me and when he knew I was staring back, he mouthed two simple words, paired with a warning expression, that lifted my spirits.

"Coach Karebear,"

Ashton cocked an eyebrow, smirked, and shook his head. While no vocal conversation existed in this moment, I could comprehend what Captain was trying to convey. In his own way, he was reassuring me; encouraging me to lift my chin; to remind me of my importance. And just like that, I regained my confidence just as fast as I lost it— all thanks to Ashton.

That confidence kept my energy up when the game started. We were off to an amazing beginning, and just like magic, Luke and Ashton made an unstoppable duo. The argument they had earlier in the afternoon seemed to dissipate, because on the ice, their teamwork spoke volumes. By the end of the first period, Luke scored our first goal.

"Fuck yea! Come at me mutha-fucka's!" Luke bellowed obnoxiously, skating circles around the rink as the Brampcrest team glared angrily at him.

The boys on the ice all skated back to the bench, and Coach Benson wasted no time in pulling out his whiteboard with the rink's layout painted on it. I did my job as associate coach by handing the sweaty boys bottles of ice cold Gatorade. As they rehydrated their system with electrolytes, Coach began to draw X's and O's on the board, a rampage of hockey lingo escaping his mouth.

"Michael, I'm going to swap you out with Brandon," Coach broadcasted and the two boys nodded. "I have a feeling that Brampcrest will put in Parker."

I understood, "Parker is known for his trick shots, but it's a pattern. And Brandon knows that pattern."

"Exactly," Coach beamed, giving me a hearty pat on the back.

We went over a couple more strategies, and before we knew it, it was time for the second period. A deep, boisterous horn echoed within the arena, and within seconds, the hockey team was jumping over the barricades back onto the ice. Judging by how the first period went, I only hoped the rest of the game would flow as smoothly. But my hopes, were just that.

"Oh come on ref! Brampcrest is playing dirty! Use your eyes!" Coach Benson hollered with frustration and fury, waving his arms around to accentuate the pissy-ness.

We were getting killed out there. We were nearing the end of second period and it was 1-to-1. While Willowridge came to play at 300%, Brampcrest played with the same caliber. Intense wouldn't even begin to cover the ruthlessness on the ice, and it seemed like Brampcrest played us in the first period.

"Come on guys! You got this, you got this," I rubbed my temples in anxiety. My eyes scanned the rink, watching with terror as Willowridge fiercely skated across the ice with Brampcrest trailing behind with insane and probably not legal moves.

Luke stole the puck and was heading towards the goal. Our defensemen kept the Brampcrest players at bay, while Ashton skated at full speed to meet Luke near the center just like they practiced several times before. But as the second period came to a close, the worst happened, and only fear flushed over my entire body with an ice-cold chill.

Number 9, Sebastian Gray, purposely tripped Luke.

At about 160 pounds of muscle mass, going at a velocity of 10.6 seconds, the sudden loss of momentum due to the impact of Luke's skate to hockey stick caused a collision I wished I didn't witness. Luke flew through the air, flipping at climax, and landed on his side. The entire crowd was silent, and the only thing that could be heard was the painful wails of player number seven.

"Luke," I breathed, my eyes wide with dread.

Our entire team skated towards Luke, kneeling down to examine their fallen teammate, while Coach Benson hopped over the barricade and wobbled his way across the ice to inspect his player. Moments later, a team of medics rushed to the scene while I waited off to the side with glossy eyes. Within minutes, Luke was lifted onto a gurney and another excruciating howl filled my ears. I cringed, almost feeling his pain too. The medical team carefully brought an injured Luke towards our side of the rink, and I held open the gate for them to enter.

Luke's face was dripping with pain as he bit on his bottom lip. My heart twisted in seeing him experience such torment, and I was angry at the person who caused it. I glanced away from Luke, passed the horrifying scene to focus on the people in the distance. I grimaced at Sebastian and his coach, who seemed to be praising the player instead of reprimanding him. The Brampcrest team were playing dirty and there was no way they could ever get away with it.

I felt my arm being tugged on, and when I looked down, did I see Luke grasping onto me. I opened my mouth to speak; to apologize for his pain, but before I could even utter one sound, Luke spoke instead.

"Demolish them,"

Pass the pain that laced his bright, blue eyes, was a type of livid fervor dancing in them. Though he was off the ice, he was determined more than ever, to win this game.

"I promise," I whispered with a nod, and Luke let go of my arm as his body continued down the dim tunnel.

The team and I found ourselves back in the locker room following Luke's accident. We all sat on the benches, chins to our chest, as we mulled over what happened a mere fifteen minutes prior. The joy and buoyancy we had as a team at the beginning of the night, all came down to this: shattered hearts.

"I fucking hate those assholes," Ashton grumbled, smacking the side of the locker. We all jumped, startled from the shaking metal.

"Those fuckfaces weren't playing fair and I'm ready to give them a taste of their own medicine! We gotta get back out there and kick their asses! Who's with me?" Michael stood up, rage hugging each word he spoke.

"I am!" David howled and stood up, banging his hockey stick against the ground.

"If you all want to go back out there, I'm not stopping you," Coach Benson stated. "But I'll be damned if I let you go out there and play dirty."

"Why not?" Ashton argued. "Were you blind for one second? Did you not see what that fucktard Sebastian did to Luke? We gotta go out there and play them at their own game!"

"You will not!" Coach Benson's voice roared, holding our attentions with a tenacious grip. "You are a much better team than that, and have far more class than Brampcrest."

Ashton looked away, gazing down at the ground. He really believed we had this game, and at the start, I did too. It purely sucked, and I hated being in this rut.

"If you play, you play fair," Coach Benson continued. "So when you kick their sorry asses, you'll do it with dignity and pride!"

"If we're not playing dirty, then we have to play smart," Michael spoke up.

"Then what do you suggest?" Coach asked.

"Put in Karris," Michael answered the question with such a simple solution, it was as if he were telling us what his favorite color was.

With that being said, my attention jolted so fast I could've produced enough electricity to turn on a light bulb.

"Are you drunk?" I shrieked, gawking at Michael with a twisted expression.

Michael laughed, "I'm serious. I said we need to play smart and you're the smartest player on our team. And you know Brampcrest better than all of us."

"I'm flattered and all," I started. "But, aren't you forgetting one tiny golden rule that kept me off the team in the first place? I'm a girl!"

"You are?" Ashton gasped playfully.

"Ha, ha," I stuck my tongue out in response.

"You being a girl won't be a problem in this game," Michael confidently quipped.

"Why not?" I raised a brow.

"I've been reading the handbook, and—"

"—you've been reading?" Ashton interrupted with a crack in his voice, clearly amused. "Like, sentences? As in, outside of school?"

"Fuck you! You're such a cock waffle," Michael groaned, taking his helmet and chucking towards our Captain's head.

Ashton swiftly moved away, and the helmet crashed against the lockers instead.

"Sorry," Ashton gave his teammate a cheeky grin. "Continue."

"I've read the handbook inside and out. Technically it only says the opposite gender can't be a permanent player... it says nothing about being a substitute," Michael wiggled his eyebrows in mischief.

I squinted my eyes in wonder, looking at Michael who had a grin plastered across his face with satisfaction. He found a loophole— an actual one with enough support that can attest to critics.

"Say, I do decide to do this," I stood up, my mind vacillating between do or don't. "I have skates, but I don't exactly have a jersey."

"Yes you do," Coach Benson quickly affirmed, and I looked at him with confusion. "You can wear Gabe's old one."

"Isn't Gabe's hanging in a frame outside of the tunnel?" I brought up.

"That's a replica. We bought it just for display," Coach explained. "His real one, is still in his old locker."

"What?" I breathed, taken aback by this new discovery of mine. My eyes trailed from Coach Benson to the rest of the team who all seemed to stare back at me. But upon further inspection, it wasn't me they were staring at, it was the area right behind me.

Gabe's locker.

"Is this..." my words faded as my fingers softly touched the metal latch.

I observed the locker in front of me— the same locker I'd pass by every day after practice when I cleaned the locker room. It was like any other one in the room, but the more I stared, the more different did it become. The deep navy color seemed more blue than the rest, and the scratches that embellished the rest of the lockers lacked on this one.

With a gentle pull of the latch, the gears inside clicked open. I pulled the door wide open, to find Gabe's locker exactly how it was. Similar to his bedroom at home— stuck in the past, the locker before me was also frozen in time. In the midst of the axe body spray, a printed out picture of Mila Kunis, and an empty box of Blueberry Poptarts, was a glossy photograph of my twin and I as kids. Toothy smiles and pink cheeks, Gabe and I held onto hockey sticks at a local ice skating rink.

"What do you say coach?" Ashton stood next to me and I felt a cold sensation go up my spin when I felt his warm breath tickle the back of my neck. "Play with us?"

My stomach did 50,000 backflips and I almost wanted to slap him silly for making my body feel like jello. But this was not time to be a little girl; I had to be courageous. So, I grabbed my brother's jersey that was nicely suspended on a hanger, and turned around.

"Let's demolish Brampcrest!" I yelled the loudest I could, fire in my heart and passion in my soul.

The entire team reciprocated this war cry and pelted their hockey sticks against the ground while howling with craze. I felt a rush of eagerness, and couldn't wait till my skates hit the ice. I was ready; more than ready to take on the Brampcrest team and— I apologize in advance for my vulgarity— it was time to:

Fuck.

It.

Up.

I was alone in the girl's locker room, changing into my gear, when I finally had some quiet time to think. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror, and examined the jersey that adorned my body. It was a little large on me, but I wore it with pride. And there was no way I was going to disrespect my brother and his legacy by not giving it my all. I didn't care if I got thrashed around on the ice; if I got pummeled to the ground; if I tried but failed to score a goal. I wasn't leaving without a fight.

For Gabe.

I made my way out of the locker room to meet with the rest of the team. I expected them to be waiting for me in the hall, but when I turned into it, they were nowhere to be found. So I kept walking towards the tunnel, the outside crowd still cheering despite what happened with Luke. I guessed that the rest of the team would be at the player's bench, so I made my way in that direction, which also meant having to walk through the tunnel. And when I was face to face with the dim passageway, I was met with a welcoming scene like no other.

"Go Karris!" Michael whooped.

He and the entire team all lined on either sides of the burrow, with their sticks in the air. The blades of each hockey stick crossed together, creating an archway of valor for me to walk beneath— it was beautiful AF.

"Guys," I was moved by their cute gesture that I did an awkward little dance.

"Let's go Villanueva!" Ashton called out from the end of the lineup.

I followed Captain's orders, and with happiness, I sauntered through the tunnel, hearing words of motivation from each player. When I entered the rink, a slew of cheers and claps filtered into my ears and that kind of bliss could not be replicated.

"Alright, I spoke with the ref and you're clear to play," Coach Benson assured with a grin. "Looks like Michael's little loophole worked."

"What about Sebastian?" I questioned. "He's been punished right? Penalty?"

Coach's face sank, "he says he didn't do it on purpose, and when they looked at the playback during break, it was clear as day that his hockey stick seemed to slip."

"Are you joking?" My jaw dropped. "There's no way!"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you," Coach shrugged.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," I grunted.

"Whoa!" Michael's hand rested on his chest as he looked at me in animated disgust. "Calm down Karris. No need to curse."

"Shut up Clifford," I shouted back.

"If your voice weren't so high pitched, I could've sworn you were your brother," Coach Benson chuckled. "Get out there kid."

I nodded my head and followed the team onto the ice. I spun around, looking up at the filled bleachers and witnessed the mixed expression of the crowd: confusion, enthusiasm, fear. However, there was no time to read the crowd because it was time to play. I positioned myself on the ice watching as both Ashton and Sebastian meet at the center for the faceoff.

It all happened in slow motion at first. The crowd settling, the angry stares from Brampcrest, and the only thing I could hear was the beating of my own chest. Then, the referee dropped the puck, and all Hell broke loose. One second I was stationary, and the next, I was moving at full speed, dodging hockey players, and studying their little quirks at the same time.

One of the things I noticed about Brampcrest player number 12, was that his peripheral vision sucked. Which means I could do one of the things with Michael.

"Clifford!" I shouted, garnering his attention. "Thing number two on number 12!"

I could see Michael smirk as he raced over to me from one end of the rink. With grace, we both skated towards number 12, making sure to be at his blind side, and just like we practiced, skated a full figure-8 around him with great speed. This split second distraction from him, gave Ashton enough space to steal the puck from Sebastian before another player could come to the rescue. Ashton made that puck his biyotch, and with ease, scored at the bottom right corner of the net.

"Fuck yea!" I cheered to myself.

I only got to relish in that bliss for a second, because before I knew it, I was being thrown to the ice. The crowd reacted from my hard hit with gasps, and when I opened my eyes to look for the culprit, I found Sebastian sneering right at me.

"Babydoll," Ashton came to my side. "Are you okay?"

"I'm gonna finish him!" I screamed, getting up off the ice.

"Holy shit, you just did that," Ashton stood in shock at my quick recovery.

I smiled to myself before skating away. Within that time however, Brampcrest was able to score another goal and we were 2 against 2. There was no way I was going to let them score again, and I used every fibre within me to keep the puck away from our net.

Something came over me. I wasn't sure exactly what it was. It was anger and determination all rolled into one. I was angry when Gabe was taken away from me, angry when I couldn't play on the team, angry that Sebastian still got to live life. But I was determined to make Gabe proud, determined to show everyone that girls were just as good as boys, and determined to shut Sebastian down.

I skated circles around Brampcrest, stealing pucks when it got too close to our net and flipping it over to Willowridge. Their goalie, Nathan Aoki, was an amazing one and was shielding the net like some kind of hockey ninja. But I paid attention to him; reading his movements and trying to decrypt his weakness.

Speed.

He peaked at about 85 miles an hour. Anything faster than that and he can't save — which is why when Ashton, who has an average speed of 87 miles an hour, shoots, he's only moments away from keeping the puck from the net. We only had about a minute left on the clock and I had to think fast.

Fast... slapshot.

The puck was on our side and Parker from Brampcrest was seconds away from striking. He had great precision, but right before he hits the puck, he strikes the ice first. All I needed was to get in there during that millisecond and steal the puck.

"Ash," I skated right next to him. "Cover me!"

"I got your back Villanueva," Ashton answered and with a smirk, I skated towards Parker.

I noticed Sebastian's stick going awry and I knew he wanted to trip me. But I knew better than that. So when I saw his stick 'fumble' out of his grip, I jumped over it.

"Not today Satan!" I yelled just as I landed back on the ice and went full speed, waiting for Parker to take his routine strike on the ice.

And like clockwork, he hit his stick on the ice and right as he whipped his stick back to strike, I stole the puck away from him. The crowd around cheered and I mentally high-fived myself. I made my way back to the Brampcrest net with Ashton already waiting for me. I passed the puck over to him who skated a few feet, circled around a few Brampcrest players and passed the puck right back to me. Michael and Brandon came in at perfect timing and pushed our enemies away. I had a small window of time, and it was mine for the taking.

Deep breath, Karris.

The Brampcrest goalie was there the night my brother was murdered. He could've saved my brother, but didn't. He was a coward, a slave to Sebastian's civil powers and that made me sick to my stomach— this one's for Gabe.

I held my breath, bit my lip and swung my hockey stick backwards. And suddenly, I wasn't in the middle of a chaotic game anymore. I couldn't hear the loud cheers of the crowd, and there were no other players on the ice. It was just me, the net, and my twin's voice.

"Lefty-loosey,"

I struck my stick against the ice, hitting the puck with great force. The rubber disk flew through the air at beyond rapid speed and within a blink of an eye, soared into the net at the top left corner. The horn at the end of the third period rang in my ears and for a moment I wasn't sure what was happening. It was all so anarchic around me, but when I saw my entire team skating towards me, flinging their helmets into the air did I realize what was going on.

We won.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! We did it!" Michael rejoiced, giving me a huge hug.

"We did it!" I screamed frantically, taking my helmet off and freaking out with the rest of my teammates.

"Karris!" Ashton yelled, and right when I turned my attention to him, did he pick me up.

Ashton skated in circles while I wrapped my arms around his neck to keep from falling. I giggled into his ear, extremely ecstatic with our game's outcome. When the hockey captain put me back down on the ice, did his hazel eyes stare deeply into mine. He beamed proudly at me, and without any thought or hesitation, leaned down to kiss me on the forehead.

I died. 

I opened my mouth to try to speak, but because I was an awkward alpaca, no words came out. Only a slew of stammers, and odd sounds escaped. While I wanted to runaway from the embarrassment I exuded, there was a completely different reason for me to runaway.

"Karris Renee Villanueva!"

I turned my head to the right where I heard my full name being shouted. When I locked eyes with someone I never expected, did my own widen behind my glasses, and I gasped.

"Mom?"

✖

I had so much fun writing this chapter! It's a chapter that I've been waiting to write since the beginning of this story. When I planned out Slapshot, I knew that Karris playing against Brampcrest would be a major plot point. But I also knew that it wouldn't be till later in the story.

I hope you all liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed creating it! Also, if you voted for Slapshot and/or my other stories nominated for the 2017 Fanfiction Awards: THANK YOU. It means so much to me and I appreciate it greatly.

Thank you for all the support! And for those celebrating 4th of July, I hope it's an awesome one filled with fun, fireworks, BBQ, and good times.