Smashed Read Free Page B

glance catching my eye across the room as he talked to a couple of my field hockey buddies: Megan, our goalie, and Cheryl Cooper, varsity sweeper. During the school year,Megan, Cheryl, Cassie, and I hung out, went to the same parties. Megan was the class ringleader—if she hadn’t made the party happen, she was the first one to know: when, where, who. Then she spread the word.
    Cheryl was Megan’s silent sidekick. Moonfaced and muscular, with short blond hair, Cheryl was more a presence than a personality. As our sweeper, she stoically defended the expanse of field in front of Megan’s goal and was the last line of defense a player had to get through before she could get at Megan. Cheryl’s steady, reliable, no-flash play caught opponents off guard because she was also fiercely determined—and she won . Her dependable defense had earned her the nickname “the Rock.”
    “You can’t score without getting past the Rock , and the Rock ain’t moving,” we liked to say.
    Stiflingly hot and packed with customers, the Big Scoop was deafeningly noisy. I leaned my head toward the opening in the glass window, hoping to better hear what the customer in front of me was trying to order. Behind her, I saw our hockey coach, Coach Riley. Her face lit up when she saw me; she smiled and waved. Her skin already tanned, her gray hair cropped short, she stepped up to the counter next.
    “You girls should get together this summer and scrimmage,” she said after she’d ordered, nodding toward my teammates. “You’ll be that much stronger come fall.”
    We were favored to win our division title this year, and we all wanted it as much as Coach Riley did. “That would be great,” I said. “We just need to figure out a time when no one’s working.”
    “It can’t be an official practice or we’re breaking the rules. You girls will have to do it yourselves.”
    “We’ll figure it out.” Smiling, I handed her a cone. “I’ll call everyone,” I said—and I would. It wasn’t just the division title I wanted, it was the state title. This was our senior year, and we were going to get it.
    *     *     *
    That night after work, I drove out to Cheryl’s summer camp on Sunset Lake in Deerfield. Her parents were away for a few days, and cars already crowded the dirt road and tiny driveway near the cabin. A steady thud of music carried from the screened porch out across the lake.
    In the kitchen, ice and beer filled the sink. I opened one and took a long pull. With each swig, the tension flowed out of my body a bit more. There was nothing like a beer to end the day. I loved the feel of the bubbles going down my throat, the warmth that spread through my belly.
    With each beer, my mind let go a little bit, too, my worries fading away. So what if I went home to an empty house? Who cared if my mother wanted to be with her new boyfriend more than she wanted to be with her own kids? By the third beer, the hollow space in my gut, that space that I dreaded more than anything, had disappeared.
    Alec came up behind me, put his hand on my right bicep, and squeezed. “Scooping all that ice cream’s a workout. You should alternate arms—it’s better than free weights.”
    “No kidding,” I said, and laughed, heat rising in my cheeks.
    “You guys are set up to be state champions in hockey this year,” he said, leaning back against the pine paneling.
    “You think?”
    “Are you kidding? No contest. Especially with scorers like you and Cassie. Isn’t Yarmouth losing, like, seven seniors from last year? They were your only real challenge.”
    “You’re right,” I said. “I can’t believe you know that.”
    “I was at all your games last year. You should pay more attention to your fans,” he said.
    “I will.” He caught my eye, and I looked away.
    Out on the porch, a game of quarters was in full swing. “Martin’s up next,” Megan hollered. “Where’s Katie Martin?”
    “Looks like you’re wanted,” Alec