Chapter 15: Loud Thoughts

At five on Monday morning, the equipment room smelled like old tape and wet gloves, and Mason stood in the doorway with two coffees.

"I'm not signing on Friday," he said. "That's me saying it first."

I took the coffee and didn't answer for a second.

"I heard it last night," I said. "In the dark, while you slept. It came through."

"You heard me say it before I said it?"

"A little. It counts as cheating."

He laughed, then looked at the floor. "I'll tell you the reasons tonight. I want to get through practice."

"Good. Because I do not want to talk about Boston while I'm counting jockstraps."

That is how the week started.

It was also the last quiet thing that happened to us for a while.

By the second drill, I knew we were in trouble.

I had a clipboard and a clear view of the ice from the bench, and Mason was skating the line backward with his stick low and his eyes on the puck.

I looked at his legs and thought, loud and clear and without meaning to, Wow, those thighs should be illegal.

On the ice, Mason missed the pass.

"Thanks," he said.

Out loud, to nobody.

Nate, skating beside him, turned his whole head. "For what?"

"Nothing."

"You said thanks."

"I said... I said thanks for the pass."

"I passed it to the boards, Cap."

Coach blew the whistle, and I put the clipboard over my face.

[Don't look. Don't look at her. I'm going to die out here.]

His thought was loud enough that I snorted into the clipboard.

From the ice, I heard him think, very clearly: [Did she just laugh at me?]

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