Page 33 of My Last Dance
My question went unanswered, but Kappy’s eyes lingered on mine while the boys discussed their team.
Around midnight, we finally killed the fire and trudged through the deep snow back to the cars.
I was dumping everything in the trunk when someone came up behind me, making me yelp.
A low rumble of a chuckle filled my ear, and I immediately knew it was Kappy. He was so close to me, but it was like there was an invisible barrier between us that he didn’t dare cross. He kept his hands to himself as he dipped to whisper, “A kiss,” making goosebumps break out across my neck.
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That’s how I found myself sitting up in the zam’s driver seat on the West side rink of Centre Ice.
I had it going smooth for the most part. It was almost like driving a car, except I also had to manage the lever that pumped water onto the ice. I knew the lap pattern of a zam by heart from watching it through my entire life, so I kept on track prettyeasily.
After a couple laps, I smirked triumphantly at Kappy.
He took off his snapback and held it out to me.
Yup, that’s right. Hats off to me, I thought with a satisfied giggle.
Things were going great, until I tried to turn and go over the very last sliver of un-zammed ice.
I must’ve cranked the wheel too hard because a weird groan erupted from the machine. The wheels grinded to a sudden halt, making me jerk forward and slam into the wheel.
“What in the world?” I muttered to myself. I tried cranking it to life again, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. I smacked the side of the machine, hoping to jolt it to life. My eyes snapped to Kappy, who was laughing at his place by the boards.
“What do I do?” I yelled across the ice.
He shrugged. “Told you it’s harder than it looks!”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I helplessly looked around.
But then, I didn’t have to do anything, it started back up on its own, making me jolt back in my seat.
The only problem: the steering wheel wouldn’t work, and I was moving slowly but surely straight toward the boards.
“Help me!” I yelled, trying to ram the wheel to the side.
“You’ve got it!” Kappy yelled back. “Turn!”
“It won’t!” I screamed, feeling a shaky panic take over my body.
“Truce?!” he called out.
“Yes, you idiot! Help me! I can’t stop it!” I snapped back.
“Oh, shit!” He didn’t have skates on, but that didn’t stop him. He stepped onto the ice in his tennis shoes and half-ran, half-slid over to me. “Jump down!”
“What?” I shrieked, letting go of the wheel.
“I’ll catch you.” He nodded eagerly. He grasped the handle of the zam so he could slide along with it like some kind of skateboard street-racer.
“I can’t!” I cried.
He scowled. “You always jump into Patrick’s arms, this is the same.”
“No, it’s not!”
