The camera’s flash, the stadium is still loud, I don’t even know where my teammates are on the ice, but it’s the best kind of chaos.
If it weren’t for the adrenaline, I wouldn’t be able to lift the heavy cup because my arms are dead, and the Cup is heavier than I could have imagined.
I worked my ass off for it. I paid in pieces of myself.
Kal skates by, pointing at me like I’m a legend before he takes the Cup next, bringing it to his lips and promptly kissing it. He makes a circle, passes it to Blake, who lifts it like a trophy from a gladiator in the ring, and roars like a gruff bear. Alexandre cradles it like it’s his soulmate and says something in French that makes him tear up.
We all take turns skating it around the rink, like a victory lap around the sun.
The whole team piles in for photos — one with the Cup, one with everyone, one messy one with everyone laughing, wet, half-crying. Cameras pop. Lights flash. We get in tight and yell “WE’RE NUMBER ONE!” until our throats are raw.
I even won the Conn Smythe trophy for being the game’s MVP. The sports network and TMZ interviewed me.
After the fanfare, the families enter the ice. Mom and Dad hug me.
“I knew you’d win it!” Dad shouts above the noise.
“I love you, Finn,” my mother says. A stranger on the ice takes my mother’s phone and snaps pictures that will be ingrained in our family history.
Me? I’m taking it all in. I watch my teammates—my family,smiling and laughing. In this moment, we recall all the injuries we sustained, the pain, the suffering, and the tears of frustration we held inside. All of that for this one glorious moment.
Then it’s into the locker room. And that’s where the real party begins.
Music blares — some victory anthem we won’t remember tomorrow—and the champagne’s flying before anyone says a word. Kal shakes his bottle like a lunatic and pops the cork into the ceiling. Blake douses the coach with a magnum, and the poor man stands there, soaked, but grinning like a kid. We all add champagne to ensure he’s duly anointed as our champion, whose stewardship brought us here.
Someone hands me another bottle. I shake it and spray it straight into Alexandre’s face.
We’re laughing, soaked, now shirtless, and screaming. Victor’s got the Cup in the middle of the room, repeatedly hoisting it into the air. Someone’s standing on the bench. The sound of corks popping and teammates yelling entirely drowns out the coach’s attempt to congratulate us.
Many have tears of joy. I think Kal’s on Instagram Live with his shirt off.
We’re all drunk on adrenaline, soaked in champagne, and smiling so wide our faces hurt.
Then, Coach makes a heartfelt speech.
This is it.
This is the dream. This is everything we worked for. This is everything I ever wanted. The noise. The history. The high.
It’s my dream come true. It’s surreal. And now that I’ve accomplished that, I don’t know what’s next.
5
KATE
GLIMMER SWITCH
“It ain'tthe diamonds or the dress that makes the woman strong/It’s the nights she kept on fightin' when the world swore she was wrong.” Kate Riggs
My skin is still buzzing, and it’s not from nerves. Those were burned out under the lights, somewhere between my third song and the moment I realized the crowd was withme, I mean really with me.
It’s the kind of high no drug could touch. I’m on fire and floating all at once. It’s surreal.
Backstage is chaos in the best way, with makeup cases cracked open, sequins glinting under industrial lights, and voices overlapping in messy celebration. And in the center of it all—me. Kate Riggs. The girl, they said, would never play outside of bowling alleys and dive bars.
Tonight, I’m the opener who just owned the damn stage. And it feels fantastic, surreal even.
Shay is shimmying out of her black bodysuit like we’re in a race. “We have one hour before the clubs hit capacity,” she says, tugging a glitter mesh top over her head. “And you, my superstar friend, are not waiting in line tonight.”
