Clinton’s POV
Cold air burns my lungs as I step into the locker room. From the other side of the wall, I hear the rink…skates cutting across the ice, sticks striking the puck, players warming up.
Scrimmage day.
Practice this week has been brutal.
Coach made sure of that.
He’s been yelling himself hoarse since Monday. The playoffs are close now…close enough that everyone can feel the pressure crawling under their skin.
“Anyone who sleeps on the ice,” he said, his voice echoing through the rink, “is getting dropped from the varsity list.”
I pull on my jersey and reach for my helmet, but stop when the image of Catherine fainting flashes through my mind.
My fist slowly clenches.
Why is it taking Yessica forever to convince that old witch?
She was the one who told me she could pull th
