Chapter 8: The Offer

Paolo took the news at breakfast with a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth.

"You're what?" he said.

"Ghost," Luca said. "She's the black visor. She's the guy the whole internet wants."

"I'm not a guy."

"She's not a guy," Luca agreed. "She's better."

Paolo put the spoon down.

He looked at me for a long moment with his taped ribs and his split chin, and I waited for him to be angry.

Then he started to laugh.

It hurt him, and he laughed anyway, bent over the table with one hand on his side.

"I wore your watch around the ice," he said. "I skated your laps."

"I know."

"I let that gorilla hit me for you."

"I never asked you to."

"I know. That's what's funny."

He wiped his eyes, and then he stood up and hugged me so hard my feet left the floor.

"Don't ever do that to me again," he said into my hair.

"Which part?"

"Letting me think you couldn't skate."

At ten, we were on the Garden ice, just the four of us.

The arena was empty and the lights were low.

My father stood at center in his old team jacket with a whistle around his neck, and he looked ten years younger.

"Okay," he said. "Mara, you take Paolo's left wing. Luca, get on your stool."

"My stool?"

"You're the assistant coach. Assistant coaches sit."

Luca sat on the stool at the bench and lifted his cast onto a bucket.

"Worst promotion of my life," he said.

Paolo, in a brace and a sweatshirt, took the face-off circle with a stick in one hand and no shoulder pads.

Keep reading free with an account. Start They Thought I Was Weak, I Am Their Only Hope from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.