Prologue

Riley, 6 years old…

"Hey, that was a sweet shot," a voice calls from behind me. Before I even turn around, my cheeks and my ears feel hot. I'm not used to people watching me. And at this time of day, the rink is usually empty. It's my first day of practice and I wanted to be early. I also wanted to see what the other kids were wearing as they came in. It is my first time wearing actual hockey equipment and I feel self-conscious.

I glance back and when I do, my eyes widen. A boy, I'm guessing about my age since he's only a hair taller than me, stands there. I glance at him up and down and see he's wearing hockey skates and carrying a stick. His light blue jersey matches mine with the name of the club hockey league on the front in bold, black letters. Crimson Bay Youth Hockey.

"Thanks," I finally manage to mumble. I'm not used to talking to kids my age. I moved here with my mom and we've been staying in the local shelter. Being new in school, I haven't had much time to make friends. As I look this boy up and down once more, I realize he does look slightly familiar.

"My name is Reign." He skates forward, using his stick to steal one of the extra pucks from in front of me. "What's your name?"

"Riley." My voice sounds scratchy and I feel another blush working its way up my neck.

"You have Mr. Earnest for a teacher, don't you?" The little boy, I guess his name is Reign, asks.

I nod my head. I wish I had been paying more attention to the other kids because I couldn't even guess who his teacher is. Reign smiles, and I notice the little indent in his cheek when he does. He looks friendly enough, I guess.

"Hey, watch this." He takes his stick and moves the puck left, right, left before shooting way outside and toward the center. He's not very big, like me, so the puck doesn't pick up air, but it looks really cool when he does it.

"Wow," I respond and watch wide-eyed as he skates around and does the same thing this time shooting far right.

"Pretty cool, right?" He grins. "I've been practicing at home. I watched a player on the Penguins do it. Well sort of like it. He's bigger than me so his shot was way high, above the goalie's shoulder."

"That would be sweet." We laugh together about it.

He keeps shooting and soon I'm jumping in and mimicking his moves. Reign's eyes light up when I hit the goal every time just like him. I'm not used to having friends, having grown up mostly with just my mom, but I think I could be friends with Reign. I really want to be friends with him. I like hearing him talk about his puppy, how he wants to be a professional hockey player and how I need to try Cheetos on a peanut butter sandwich for lunch tomorrow. All my worries and fears about meeting new people today start to go away. If they're all like Reign, I think I'll be fine. And if Reign is my only friend, that's okay too.

Reign, 7 years old

"Mom, we're going to be late," I groan and complain again. Still, she's fiddling around with her keys and trying to put on her lip gloss at the same time. Practice starts in twenty minutes, but I like to get out there earlier and watch the Zamboni finish laying a fresh layer of ice with Rylie. We both like to be the first ones to cut the ice once he packs up, before our teammates get out there. Knowing her, she's already waiting.

Riley lives at the shelter near the church, which is only a ten-minute walk away from the arena. She has the advantage, but I still like to tease her that I can beat her. I finally get to the locker room and quickly change into my pads and the emerald green CBYA jersey we have this year. A few other kids from school wave at me and we laugh again about the pet rat that escaped Ms. Miller's classroom. I leave them all behind though to go find her.

Sure enough, she's sitting on the bench and watching as the Zamboni driver scoops the last of the ice slush off before driving back into its little garage. "Riles!" I call to my best friend and smile when her attention focuses on me. A smile tugs at her lips and she waves.

"Hurry up, Reign."

I walk as fast as I can and hop onto the bench near her. For a girl, Riley is pretty cool. She's smart, loves hockey, and she's funny. I also know that if I pass her a puck on a breakaway, she's going to catch it and score. My mom jokes that we're a perfect duo on the ice.

We hop over the boards and skate circles. I chase her around the ice and then skate backward, while she tries to catch up to me. Eventually, the rest of our team joins us and we're all broken up into groups for practice. My excitement dies down a little when Riley is placed in a different group than me. Every now and then I hear her laugh and instantly turn toward her. Some kid in her class is talking while they pass a puck back and forth, practicing the correct way to cradle the puck. I don't know why, but it bothers me that he made her laugh. Smiles alone are rare from Riley, and making her laugh usually makes me feel like a king. I take my next loop a little larger than needed, so I skate right by her. My glove whips out and I give her braided ponytail a yank.

Instantly, her eyes land on me and I have her attention again. She sticks her tongue out at me. I stick mine out back at her. Some anger festers inside my chest and I don't get it. It doesn't calm again until our next drill, when she's in my group again.