Free Ice Time by David Skuy Page A

concussion.”
    “Come on,” Barker said. “When did hockey become a game for little boys who need their mommies?”
    “Protocol is that we—”
    “C.C. is out with a pulled groin,” Barker cut Nadav off savagely. “We’ve only got three centres. He’s fine. Look at him. He’s totally okay. Rockwood, you’re okay to play, right?” He glared down at Rocket.
    “I’m good,” Rocket said.
    “Told you. Now get that stick for Goldsy and then check on C.C.,” Barker said. He turned back to the ice. “Call the hook, ref!” he yelled.
    “Tell me if you get a headache or your neck hurts — or if you see spots or become sensitive to light,” Nadav said. He patted Rocket’s shoulder pads and left.
    “Pick up the physical play, little boys,” Barker said. “We need to crush their spirit.”
    “I wouldn’t mind crushing his spirit with my physical play,” Rogers whispered to Downey.
    Downey chuckled.
    Rocket contented himself with a long sip of water. Barker wasn’t winning any friends on the team. He was a rookie coach, and as he himself had said,
“Rookies should shut up and do their jobs.”

CHAPTER 15
    The coaching staff, along with Floyd and Blywood, crowded around C.C. in the dressing room after the game.
    Rocket put on his sweatshirt. He’d already showered and dressed.
    “I told you not to overuse him,” Floyd said to McGill.
    “We’ll monitor the situation for a few days,” McGill replied.
    “The playing minutes should’ve been managed better,” Barker said.
    “Exactly,” Floyd said.
    Rocket felt bad for McGill. Floyd didn’t seem to like him too much.
    “You want to come for a workout tomorrow morning?” Rory asked Rocket.
    “Definitely,” Rocket said.
    Not actually true. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep for a week. But if Rory was working out — and he’d played in the NHL — then Rocket should, too.
    “See you tomorrow, nine o’clock,” Rory said. “Good game, bro. Two goals and an assist — awesome.”
    In the third period, Rocket had stayed on the first line with Goldsy and Rory. He’d gotten an assist on Goldsy’s one-time slapshot from the top of the circle.
    Rocket said goodbye to Rory and went to the door.
    “Good game,” Goldsy called out to him.
    “Oh … th-thanks,” Rocket stuttered. “Good game to you. Too.”
    Goldsy turned to talk to Rory.
    Rocket wondered about himself sometimes. He’d sounded ridiculous. Nice of Goldsy, though. Maybe Rocket had made a good impression today — a real step toward being accepted on the team.
    “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Nadav said to him at the door.
    “Don’t think so,” Rocket said.
    “Didn’t you have your first of these tonight?”
    Rocket had no idea what he was talking about.
    Nadav gave him an odd look as he pulled a puck out of his pocket. “Your first goal? This is the puck.” He held it up. There it was, in gold lettering, the date and
Bryan Rockwood, 1st AHL Goal
.
    “You’re the best!” Rocket said, reaching for it. “I’d almost forgotten.” In truth, he was having a hard time remembering the actual goal.
    “I want to check you out tomorrow. I know it’s an off day, but is there any chance you can come by?” Nadav said.
    “I’m working out with Rory at … in the morning.” Rocket couldn’t remember what time Rory had said.
    “I’ll see you then,” Nadav said.
    “Hey, you,” Floyd yelled from across the room. “Get me a bottle of water. I’m parched here.”
    Nadav grimaced before reaching for a bottle. Rocket didn’t envy him.
    As he headed to the lobby, Rocket got more excited with each step. Cool that Megan had seen his first goal — his first two. And he was glad Ritchie and the kids had been there, too.
    The lights in the lobby were bright, and he had to put a hand across his eyes. His head swam, and he leaned against the wall.
    The feeling passed almost as fast as it came, but Rocket was unnerved all the same. He felt good. He did. So, was it