JUST A GAME ⇀ adam banks

one

"LETS GO, KYLIE!"

"Shoot!"

"Skate!"

Kylie wrangled the puck in front of her and skated towards the net, two kids from the opposing team heavily skating at her heels. With the little time remaining at less than ten seconds, she only pushed herself to skate faster. Adrenaline coursed through her veins like a train on a one-way circuit.

"Kylie Moreau, with only a few seconds left, skates past the defensemen! She winds up the shot, and she shoots. SHE SCORES!"

Kylie skates around the net and heads towards the benches where her teammates are bursting at their seams with glee. She can feel her face grow even more red, rather than her face burning from exhaustion it shimmers with pride. While her team offers high-fives and supportive pats on the helmet, her glance falls over to the coach of the Iceland team. His stubby finger pointed directly at her. His face is full of rage, resembling her red face, except the coach looks on the verge of passing a kidney stone.

"Beautiful slapshot, Moreau! Now only ten more goals 'til we're even." Coach Gordon Bombay gestures to her, holding up five fingers on each of his hands with an excited grin. His eyes told a whole different story as they weren't as joyous as the smile on his face.

Of course, the coach must not let his cheerfulness falter, or the angsty teenagers may lose sight of their hopes of winning this game.

"Banks! Moreau! Switch!" Coach Bombay shouted to Adam from across the rink. "Me or Connie?" The two sisters jump up from the bench to find the Coach towering over them.

"You."

Kylie sighed, the familiar ache apparent in her legs when she'd known she'd been on the ice much longer than she wanted to be. The ache had made its way to her stomach in a nauseating way and she swallowed down any doubts she had, looking both ways before she entered the rink.

An arm grabbed hold of her bicep, she turned to see Adam smirking through the cage of his helmet. "Good luck out there, Ky." Her lips pressed into a straight line, the attempt to smile back at him feeble.

More pats were placed on her helmet and shoulders. Her supportive teammates eased her anxieties just enough for her to rush onto the ice with determination.

With only a minute left on the clock, Team USA was nowhere near winning this game, but Kylie yearned for another goal to put her team on the board once more. Being in the center ice position was never easy for a girl at her skill level. People often doubted her ability to win the face-offs and secure the puck. Kylie shook her head to drain any thoughts causing her mind to race. She readied and reminded herself of the objective of the game. When a shaky breath left her lungs, Kylie's vision cleared. She was met with the eyes of her opponent. Icy blonde hair peaked from beneath his helmet, a common trait of the boys of the Iceland team. Pimples littered his face and he had eyelashes for a poor excuse of a mustache.

The whistle blew, interrupting other thoughts she had about the 'roid freak in front of her. Her stick collided with the ice with a loud clack and the puck was already gliding between her legs as she passed the puck to Jesse Hall.

The Icelander shoved her down with his shoulder on his way over to the puck. By the time Kylie's bottom half made contact with the ice, she was back on her feet, skating away with a quick huff. Annoyance coursed through her blood at the aggressiveness she was enduring so early into her shift.

Her body moved swiftly across the ice while her chest rose and fell quickly. She frantically searched the rink for an area with fewer opponents, her head moving at lightning speed from side to side.