I’m not sure what I would say if I saw him. Plus, he’s already accused me of being a distraction. Seeing me right before a crucial game might mess with his head.
When we pull into the arena, Dad bypasses the parking lot and drives directly to the entrance. “Get out here,” he orders. “I’ll park the car and meet you inside. Keep your phone on.”
A thought suddenly occurs to me. “Oh no,” I say in dismay. “We don’t have tickets.”
“Sure we do. I called Steve Llewellyn when you were getting dressed. Told him I needed a favor. There’ll be two tickets waiting for us at the box office under your name. Standing room only, though. It was too last minute for anything better.”
Llewellyn is the head coach of Michigan. I guess it helps to have a father with connections. “You’re the best.”
I hop out of the car and dart toward the entrance. As I pick up the tickets, I call Jake again. He doesn’t answer.
Although the game doesn’t start for nearly an hour and a half, tons of people are already streaming inside the arena and filling up the stands. I glimpse a sea of Harvard fans, along with the gold and blue Michigan colors. I scan the Crimson portion of the crowd for anyone who looks familiar. Nada. Then I search for any signs that might tell me where the locker rooms are. I spot one and take off in that direction.
I’m approaching the corridor when I finally encounter a face I recognize.
It’s Jake’s friend Hazel.
Lovely. “Hey,” I greet her. “I’m looking for Jake.”
After a cool appraisal, a flicker of displeasure flares in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I just told you—I’m looking for Jake.” I fidget with one of the beads on his bracelet. I wore it on my wrist for safekeeping. “Is the Harvard bus here yet?”
“No.”
“Do you know when they’re showing up? Have you spoken to him at all today?”
“No.” She frowns slightly. “He’s not answering his phone. I’m here with his parents—”
My stomach twists. Nope. Not jealous. I am not jealous.
“—and none of us can get in touch with him. Maybe his phone’s dead. Sometimes when he goes into hockey mode, he forgets to do basic things, like charge his tech.”
I hate this girl. I don’t know if she does it intentionally, these I-know-him-better-than-you-do jabs. Maybe I’m just feeling insecure, though. Or maybe she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Maybe she knows him so well that it comes out instinctively.
Either way, it’s a good thing Jake isn’t here yet. Now I won’t have to see him, and he won’t see me. He wants to focus on hockey? Congrats, he can focus on hockey.
“When he gets here can you give him this?” I clumsily slide the bracelet off my wrist. Removing it brings a pang of sorrow. It’s like saying goodbye to the last piece of Jake that I have left.
Hazel’s gaze darkens with suspicion. “Where did you get that?”
I set my jaw. I don’t appreciate the not-so-veiled accusation. “If you think I stole it, relax. Jake loaned it to me the other day. I was nervous about something and he said it would bring me good luck.” I have to smile, because something good did come out of it. Dad and I got our fresh start, after all. “Anyway, I forgot to return it, and I drove all the way here, so…” I thrust out my hand. “Could you please give this to him when he gets here?”
“Jake let you borrow his good-luck charm.” Her tone has a dull note to it.
“Yes.” I’m starting to get annoyed. And I’m still holding my arm out like a moron. “Look, I get that you don’t like me—for no good reason, by the way. You don’t even know me. But I care about Jake, same as you. This—” I wave the bracelet at her. “—is important to him. He’ll hate me forever if this bracelet isn’t on his wrist when the puck drops. So can you please just take it already?”
After a moment of hesitation, Hazel accepts the bracelet. She slips it around her wrist and says, “I’ll make sure he gets it.”
39
Jake
I’m alone in the locker room, me versus my thoughts. Voices echo beyond the door, laughter and chatter and the general hum of activity, but I’m good at blocking all of it out. My ritual of silence doesn’t require actual silence. I just need to quiet my brain. Meditate on what needs to be