The Hockey Game

This…whatever it was…was not going well. Zoey was not going to call it a date, because then it would be her first date, and that would be the absolute worst.

Troy dropped into his seat beside her, and she flinched, trying not to lean away from the eye watering aroma of his body spray. He’d practically bathed in it.

“I got some popcorn,” he announced, grinning as he held up the bag. He took a handful and shoved it towards his mouth. A good amount spilled all over the Chicago Bulls jersey he was wearing. She watched with disgusted fascination as he chomped on it, his lips smacking together with a greasy sheen of oily butter substitute. He didn’t even offer her the bag when he reached for another handful. She glanced down and saw the popcorn had left greasy spots on the jersey she had a suspicion wouldn’t come out. She didn’t feel too bad about that.

How had this happened? she wondered to herself. She was a nice girl. Maybe that was part of the problem.

Troy was the new kid at school, and kind of an odd ball. He was from Chicago and talked incessantly about how their small Texas city was so backwards and didn’t compare to living in Chicago. Their city was small compared to Chicago, but they had a baseball team and a hockey team and a university, for crying out loud. Besides, lots of places were small compared to Chicago. It was Chicago.

The hockey team was why there were here, incidentally. He’d cornered her in the hallway during passing period. She was one of the few people in their grade who was nice to her and said he’d had an extra ticket to the game and asked if she’d like to go. She’d been hesitant.

“Who’s going?” she’d asked, shoving her chemistry book into her backpack and glancing at the clock on the wall, determined not to be late to class.

“You, me, and my dad,” Troy had said, leaning on the lockers and grinning at her. He had on a Chicago Cubs t-shirt that day. “It’ll be great. You like hockey, right?”

She zipped up her backpack to give herself time to stall. “I don’t really know anything about hockey,” she said finally, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ve never seen a game.”

“Not a single game?” he asked, incredulous. “Oh man, it’s great. They fight. Sometimes there’s even blood.”

She shut her locker and looked at him doubtfully. “Sounds barbaric.”

“Well, I mean, not all the time.” He straightened up and started to follow her down the hall, weaving in and out of the crowds of students making their way to classes. “Come on. You’ll love it. I promise.”

She sighed as she hurried down the stairs. “I’ll have to check with my parents, but if they say it’s ok, then sure. I’ll get back to you tomorrow, ok?”

“Great,” he beamed at her retreating back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And now they were at the game, and she’d been duped. His dad had gone with them to the game, true, but not actually in to the game. He’d dropped them off at the gate, then driven off. Zoey turned to Troy, who looked pretty smug.

“Where’s your dad going?”

“To park the car.”

“Does he have the tickets?” she asked nervously. She was starting to get a bad feeling.

“No, I have ours. Come on.” He motioned for her to follow him towards the entrance. She followed him in, glancing over her shoulder. She’d lost sight of the car in the enormous parking lot.

There was a crowd inside, but the arena was even bigger, so they weren’t sitting near anyone. Their seats were up high, which Zoey honestly didn’t mind. She could see the whole of the ice rink at once and didn’t have to swivel her head back and forth. Sometimes, nosebleed seats had their advantages.

Something happened on the ice and the ref yelled at one of the players, then sent him to the penalty box. Zoey leaned over the Troy. “What just happened?” she asked.

Troy shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t know anything about hockey.”

She looked at him with surprise. “I thought you did.”

He shook his head. “Why would I?”

She frowned with confusion. “Then why did you get tickets?”

“I didn’t. My dad did through his work.”

She looked around. “Where is your dad, anyway? Shouldn’t he have joined us by now?

“Oh, he’s going to meet up with us after the game,” Troy said dismissively, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, intent on the game.

Zoey felt a chill wash over her that wasn’t from the ice. “What? He’s just going to sit in the parking lot the whole time?”

Troy snorted. “No, that’d be boring. He went home.”

“You told me he was parking the car,” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, at home.” Troy shook his head.

Zoey stared at him, stunned. “I…what?”

“Look, you got to go to a hockey game for free, what’s the big deal?” Troy sat up and looked at her now. “Just have fun.” He looked around the arena. “We can move seats if you want. The first period is ending. Let’s get better seats.”

He stood up and started to leave their seats. Lots of people were getting up to go to the restroom and the concessions, moving to better seats themselves. Zoey watched him helplessly. She didn’t want to potentially take someone else’s seats, but she didn’t want to stay here alone. She groaned to herself, grabbed her purse, and followed him down the steps to a row three back from the tall, plexiglass divider separating them from the ice.

“Much better,” Troy announced, dropping heavily into a seat.

Zoey hesitated, then looked at a couple who looked a few years older than they were. “Is anyone sitting here?” she asked nervously.

The young woman shook her head. “No, go ahead. That whole row is empty.” Her eyes darted back and forth between Zoey and Troy, her eyebrows raised, clearly struggling to put these two disparate personalities together. The girl with the French braid in the neat floral top and fitted jeans with the sweater carefully folded over her purse, clearly unsure what to wear to a hockey game, and the boy with the too big Chicago Bulls jersey and baggy jeans desperately in need of a haircut. She was visibly cringing away from everything he said, while he was cupping his mouth and hooting at the Zamboni when it drove past.

Zoey grimaced as she eased past Troy’s widespread knees to the seat beside him. She’d rather sit one over but didn’t want to take even more space that clearly wasn’t theirs.

“All right. Now that we have great seats, I’m going to go get snacks,” Troy had announced.

And now, he was back, chomping on popcorn and spilling it on himself and not offering her any. Not that she could have eaten any. Her stomach was in knots, and she worried she’d throw up if she put anything in it. After he’d eaten half of it, he set it on the floor under his chair and wiped his greasy fingers on his thigh.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he announced. “I’ll be back. Do you want anything?”

“From…the bathroom?” Zoey asked, confused.

Troy rolled his eyes. “No, from the concessions. Or the gift shop.”

“Oh. No thanks.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to buy it. I was just going to say if you did, watch out for my popcorn. I don’t want you to spill it when you go by.”

Zoey stared at him a beat. “Oh. Ok. I’ll do that.”

He nodded, then turned and bounded up the stairs, nearly tripping on his overlong pants in the process. Zoey turned back and tried to focus on the game. She wished she’d brought a bigger purse so she could have also brought a book. Or that her phone battery hadn’t died. Or that she hadn’t come. She wished a lot of things.

When Troy returned, he also brought a long, plastic horn, to Zoey’s horror. She stared at it with mounting dread.

“What is that?” she asked, even though she already knew. There were horns all around the arena, fans blowing into them whenever the players did anything of consequence or just because, making a loud racket.

“A horn,” Troy said proudly. “I’m gonna blow it.”

“I think you already did,” muttered the guy from the young couple behind them.

The girl shushed him, even as she was laughing. Zoey didn’t turn around as she stared at Troy, lifting the horn to his lips and blowing with all his might, his cheeks puffing and his face turning a remarkable shade of red.

The sound seemed to go on forever. She slid lower in her chair and pulled her sweater over the lower half of her face, glad that the game was not going to be aired on television.

Finally, he stopped, gasping for breath. He grinned at her. “Well?”

“Well, what?” she asked, flabbergasted.

“That was pretty great, right? I think I blew longer than anyone.”

She stared at him. “I…guess?”

He sat back down and retrieved his popcorn. The game was well under way, and they watched in silence. After a while, Zoey even sat back up, though she leaned away from him and the dreaded horn. Periodically, he would jump up with the other fans and blow, long and loud.

Once, though, he jumped up too fast and accidentally knocked over the last third of his popcorn, spilling the greasy kernels on Zoey’s legs. She yelped, brushing them onto the floor automatically.

“Oh, man, I could have still eaten them if you hadn’t done that,” he complained, looking down at the popcorn on the floor. “Now it’s trash.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want the grease on my pants,” she explained meekly. “They’re new.”

Troy wasn’t listening. Instead, he was studying the popcorn, an idea forming in his head. Zoey watched with a bad feeling in her stomach as he started to pick up the popcorn and drop it down the horn.

“What are you doing?” she asked, nervous.

“Trying something.”

“Troy…”

He raised the horn to his mouth once the horn was filled with popcorn and blew. Popcorn spewed out of the bell, showering everyone around them with the greasy kernels. Shouts of surprise and dismay were heard. Zoey put her hands over her face and ducked her head.

“Don’t!” she shouted. “Stop doing that!”

“Sweet,” he crowed. “I got some onto the ice.”

“We are so getting kicked out of here,” she groaned.

“Young man, I need to have a word with you.”

Zoey looked up, terrified. A man in a dark polo shirt with Security written on it was standing there, a grim expression on his face. Troy, for once, didn’t have a smug expression on his own face.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

“Please come with me.”

Troy glanced at Zoey. “I’ll be back. Wait here.”

Zoey watched him leave helplessly. “What…where else would I go?”

“Home?” offered the girl behind her.

Zoey looked at her. “His dad’s my ride.”

“Do you need a different ride?” the guy asked tactfully. “We’re happy to give you a ride home. We really don’t mind.”

“Yeah. That guy seems…different.” The girl looked like she wanted to say something else but stopped herself at the last minute.

Zoey sighed and brushed popcorn off herself. “He’s not that bad…just lonely. I just won’t hang out with him after this, I think. At least not one-on-one. Thanks for the offer, but I don’t mind his dad giving me a ride home. My parents would probably freak out if someone else brought me home.”

“At least he made the game interesting.” The guy grinned.

“Definitely.” The girl laughed. “I will never forget this game.”