Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
He turns just as I’m throwing my gloves off and I push him hard in the chest. “Want to hit someone, motherfucker? Hit me.”
McLendon gladly obliges, shaking off his gloves and pulling up his sleeves. He motions with his hand and I don’t wait for him to make the first move. I land a hard right to his jaw and then it’s on. We exchange blows, the sound of our punches and the roar of the crowd blending together. His fist connects with the side of my head, but I barely feel it. Adrenaline courses through me, driving me to land another hard right hook to his cheek. He stumbles but retaliates with a punch that glances off my helmet.
We grapple, pulling each other’s sweaters, each trying to gain the upper hand. McLendon’s skates go out from underneath him and I get in one more solid punch to his face before the referees rush in to break us up. “All right… that’s enough,” one of them barks, but I struggle against them. The slight trickle of blood from McLendon’s lip isn’t nearly enough.
We’re eventually yanked apart, both of us sent to the box while the ref hands out penalties. As I unhook my helmet strap, still seething, I glance over at McLendon skating not five feet from me on the way to his punishment. “What’s your problem, asshole? That was a dirty fucking play.”
McLendon’s eyes are filled with malice. “Your buddy Penn deserved it and more. Some things you just don’t forgive.”
I’m stunned by the hatred in his voice as I pull off my helmet and sit on the bench in the penalty box. I grab a bottle of water, squirt some in my mouth and spit it out. I flex my right hand, noting the bruises already forming on my knuckles.
I think about what McLendon just did and said, even as the play resumes on the ice.
His words echo in my mind, connecting with the incident with that man in the crowd a week and a half ago.
Traitor is what he called Penn. Said he couldn’t be trusted. I had chalked it up to a disgruntled, drunk Spartans fan, but this type of enmity toward a fairly popular player doesn’t make sense.
What in the hell does Penn deserve? And why isn’t there forgiveness for it?
I try to fit the pieces together, but the picture is muddy. I glance at Penn on the bench across the ice, watching the game with focused intensity. He seems completely unfazed by what happened, but I can tell there’s a storm brewing.
♦
The mood in the locker room is electric after the win. Laughter, high fives and the tapping of sticks against the floor fill the space. The guys are jubilant, riding the high of holding on to the lead and securing the victory. Amid the celebration, my eyes keep drifting to Penn, who sits silently in his cubby, removing his gear methodically. He’s as disconnected and aloof as ever, seemingly unaffected by the adrenaline and camaraderie buzzing around him.
Rafferty, in high spirits, slaps me on the back. “You coming out with us tonight, King?”
“Nah, not tonight,” I reply, shaking my head. “Willa came to the game, and we’re going to head to my place to hang out.”
Atlas joins in, grinning as he rests an arm against my cubby. “Serious business, huh? King’s getting all domesticated on us.”
I chuckle, but my mind is elsewhere, still trying to put together the puzzle of what went down with McLendon. “Yeah, something like that.”
Rafferty raises an eyebrow. “You okay, man? You seem a bit distracted.”
“I’m good,” I assure him, though my thoughts are racing. “Just thinking about something.”
As the guys continue to joke around and make plans for the night, I pull out my phone, deciding to dig a little deeper. I google Jacob McLendon and scroll through the results until I find a detailed article.
Jacob McLendon is a professional ice hockey defenseman currently playing for the Winnipeg Rebels. Born on March 15, 1997, in Toronto, Ontario, McLendon began his junior hockey career with the Muskogee Wraiths in the United States Youth Hockey League, where he played for two seasons. Known for his physical style of play, McLendon quickly made a name for himself and was drafted by the Chicago Bobcats.
I skim the rest of the article and see he went from the Bobcats to the Montreal Wizards before landing with the Rebels last year. I skip over the personal details as they’re irrelevant, but it’s clear he and Navarro never played together in the professionals.
I quickly search for Penn Navarro and skim through the first article that comes up.
Penn Navarro is a professional ice hockey center currently playing for the Pittsburgh Titans. Born on October 10, 1996, in Denver, Colorado, Navarro began his junior hockey career with the Muskogee Wraiths in the United States Youth Hockey League. A standout player, Navarro led the league in points during his tenure with the Wraiths and was instrumental in their push for the championship his first year.