Chapter 3 Duel
1126 Words
Montreal Second Regular-Season Game
“There’s no doubt we’ll win this game. It’s our first competition of the season, and there’s no way back. Come on, girls—let’s get our prize!”
Hockey sticks rise into the air. The roar that follows makes the heart tremble.
“Montreal! Montreal!”
Ryder closes her locker door.
Inside the darkness, her phone screen lights up.
Something about it feels strange. She turns back and opens the locker again.
A private message.
No words. Just a fingers-crossed gesture.
From Brooks.
Ryder raises an eyebrow.
She tosses the phone back into the locker and strides toward the front of the line.
At center ice, the metal sheen of the rink catches the floodlights. The beams of white light seem to set the entire arena on fire, illuminating the number 10 on Ryder’s jersey.
She pats both shoulders. Then she steps onto the ice.
The crowd erupts. She takes her position at center.
Her gaze is a flag.
Showtime.
The whistle blows.
Iris carries the puck through the defense. Pass. Ryder receives it. One shot.
Goal.
Her teammates swarm her. Then she looks up.
Iris has the puck again. Ryder steals it. A blistering through-pass cuts across the ice. She drives toward the goal line, almost parallel to the net, the angle impossibly tight—
Goal.
Ryder crashes into the boards. A Montreal player is fouled. Ryder takes possession.
Pass.
Iris has it again.
She absorbs the contact, drives through, knocks the opposing player down—
Shot.
Goal.
The game ends. Montreal 5 — Ottawa 2.
Ryder pulls off her helmet as she enters the players’ tunnel. Laura is waiting outside the locker room, winking at her. Ryder understands immediately. She heads toward the interview area.
Camera flashes crash over her like waves.
“Captain Hart, congratulations on another win.”
“Thank you.”
“What is Montreal’s goal for this season?”
“We still want the best result we can get. Whatever the circumstances, we’ll do everything we can.”
“But Montreal’s men’s team didn’t have a particularly promising opening game. How would you evaluate their performance?”
“As players, we don’t evaluate other teams. Whatever the result, we keep moving forward.”
“And what about the new rule this season? Do you think it will help Montreal or hurt them?”
“The new rule?”
Iris doesn’t understand what they are talking about. Chris nods and walks quickly into the locker room beside her.
The atmosphere inside is restless, unsettled.
Pelivar stands among the players.
“We played well tonight, Iris.”
He points toward her. Applause breaks out around the room.
“Away win, two to five. Well done. Chris. Gavin.”
Pelivar turns. He raises both index fingers, signaling for silence.
“But things have changed.”
He pauses.
“This season, we’re introducing a new format. A mixed women’s and men’s competition.”
Silence crashes down like lightning.
Iris frowns.
She even tilts her left ear toward Pelivar, as though she cannot quite believe what she has heard.
“Hard to believe, right?”
“Of course. I mean, you shouldn’t announce a new rule after the season has already started.”
Chris speaks first.
“But it’s happening. Here’s how it works: the women’s and men’s teams from the same club will have their points combined toward the overall standings.”
He pauses.
“So now there are forty-four teams instead of thirty-two. The number of playoff spots stays the same.”
Iris’s eyes sharpen. She leans forward, forearms resting against her thighs, one hand finding her canine.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the playoff race gets a lot harder.”
Gavin’s voice is muffled. He glances at Chris.
Iris swallows. Then she suddenly remembers what Ryder told her the night before. Her voice comes out calm, almost as though something has finally clicked into place.
“It means the playoff spots don’t simply come down to points.”
Only then does she understand what Ryder’s words really meant.
It wasn’t an invitation with nothing behind it. It was a forecast.
Pelivar points at her.
“Exactly.”
He turns toward the others.
“Now we have new rivals. Which means we need new strategies.”
His gaze settles on Iris and Chris.
“You two. Stay.”
The others begin to leave.
Iris rubs her aching canine. It feels as though Ryder has just punched her.
“I want you to understand the situation we’re in.”
“It’s not only about which team we face. It’s about which team we choose to face.”
Jivan Olemendi looks at Ryder approvingly.
“Correct. We have dozens of games to plan around. So what’s your idea?”
Ryder rubs her shoulder. Her eyes flick rapidly across the tactics board. She hears the arena lights. Sees the sound of the puck striking the net.
“Our advantage is that we already won the first game. We maintain the lead in the standings.”
“You can’t make every team listen to you.”
“I don’t have to.”
Ryder places a marker on the board.
“Every team has an opponent that can shut them down.”
Her voice remains even.
“Our job is to make sure they meet that opponent.”
“How much do you know about him?”
That blue figure slips suddenly into her thoughts.
Without warning. Without reason.
“The star of the Peaks.”
Pelivar spreads his hands.
“Does that scare you already?”
He points toward the tactics board.
“Listen. Ryder Hart can play forward or defense. She moves unpredictably on the ice, so when he has the puck, I need you to stay focused. Okay?”
Iris frowns.
“What about Chris?”
“Chris stays primarily on defense. He’ll create space for you.”
Ryder reaches out and picks up a red marker from the board.
“He plays aggressively. But judging from his movement last game, I think he’s better suited to one-on-one play.”
The red marker moves across the board.
A blurred line.
And within it— the unmistakable shape of Iris.
“The next strategy will revolve around him.”
“We’re still at the top of the standings.” A Maple Leafs-blue marker settles onto the board.
Iris doesn’t hesitate.
“And we’ll stay there. I won’t let her get the puck.”
Her gaze hardens.
“I won’t even let her touch me.”
“It all comes down to tactics.”
Ryder’s pupils darken.
Three hundred and thirty-seven miles away, Iris speaks at exactly the same moment.
“It all comes down to winning.”
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