The tournament day
The tournament day arrived with the FireHawks moving sluggishly, still recovering from their chaotic night. Val Ortiz, in particular, was feeling the effects. Though she’d managed to dress and show up at the rink, the consequences of her overindulgence were obvious. Her movements were clumsy, her reflexes dulled, and she was still nursing a pounding headache.
Riley stuck close to Ortiz, her concern clear. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked quietly, lacing up her skates beside her.
“I’m fine,” Ortiz replied, though her tone lacked its usual strength. She rubbed her temple, squinting at the bright lights of the arena. “Just need to sweat it out.”
The team hit the ice for warmups, but Ortiz’s struggles became apparent almost immediately. She collided with Kara during a passing drill, sending both of them sprawling to the ice. A few minutes later, she misjudged a sharp turn and nearly took out Maddie, who barely managed to dodge her.
“Ortiz!” Coach Roberts barked from the bench, her frustration growing. “Get your head in the game, or you’re sitting out.”
“Yes, Coach,” Ortiz mumbled, her face hot with embarrassment. She knew she wasn’t at her best, but she wasn’t about to admit it to the team—or herself.
As the FireHawks wrapped up their warmups, their rival team skated onto the ice. The two teams had a history of bad blood, and the tension was palpable the moment the opposing players appeared. Leading the pack was their captain, Tyler Grant, a tall, cocky forward with a smug grin plastered across his face.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the FireFumbles,” Grant sneered loudly, drawing laughter from his teammates. His eyes scanned the FireHawks before landing on Ortiz. “And look who it is—the queen of last night’s circus. How’s the hangover treating you, Ortiz?”
Ortiz’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond. She turned away, focusing on her skates as she tightened the laces.
“Cat got your tongue, Ortiz?” Grant pressed, skating closer. “Or maybe you’re still seeing double? What’s the matter? Can’t handle your liquor—or the game?”
The FireHawks bristled at Grant’s taunts. Kara skated over, glaring at him. “Back off, Grant,” she said sharply. “Why don’t you focus on your own team instead of running your mouth?”
“Oh, I’m plenty focused,” Grant shot back, his grin widening. “Just figured I’d give you all a heads-up. It’s gonna be a long day for you—and an even longer one for Ortiz here. If she can even stay on her feet.”
Riley clenched her fists, stepping forward protectively. “Leave her alone, Grant,” she said sharply. “You’re pathetic.”
Grant laughed, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Touchy, touchy. Guess I hit a nerve.” Then, with deliberate aggression, he skated closer to Ortiz and gave her a hard shove. “What’s the matter, Ortiz? Can’t handle a little pressure?”
Caught off guard, Ortiz stumbled backward but managed to stay on her skates. Her face flushed with anger, and she turned to face him, her fists clenched.
“Try that again, Grant,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “I dare you.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Grant sneered, his tone mocking, “you’re not worth it.” But then, as if to prove a point, he smirked—and before anyone could react, he shoved Ortiz again, this time harder, sending her sprawling onto the ice.
The FireHawks erupted in outrage, swarming around Ortiz as she scrambled to her feet. But before anyone could pull her back, Ortiz lunged at Grant, her fists flying. She landed a solid punch to his jaw before he retaliated, shoving her hard enough to knock her off balance again.
“You’re gonna regret that!” Ortiz shouted, her voice echoing through the arena. She launched herself at Grant again, and this time, the two collided in a flurry of fists and shoves as the rest of the players tried to intervene.
Kara and Riley grabbed Ortiz, pulling her back, while Grant’s teammates dragged him away. The referees blew their whistles frantically, their shouts barely audible over the chaos.
By the time the fight was broken up, Ortiz was breathing heavily, her jersey rumpled and her face flushed with fury. Coach Roberts stormed onto the ice, her expression a mix of anger and disappointment.
“Ortiz!” she shouted, her voice like a whip crack. “Off the ice. Now.”
Ortiz hesitated, her adrenaline still pumping, but one look at the coach’s face told her she had no choice. She skated to the bench, her head hanging low as her teammates followed.
In the locker room, the tension was suffocating. Coach Roberts paced back and forth, her sharp eyes darting from player to player. Finally, she stopped in front of Ortiz.
“What were you thinking?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was? You could’ve gotten yourself—or your teammates—seriously hurt.”
Ortiz didn’t respond, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She knew the coach was right, but the anger and humiliation still burned inside her.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Coach Roberts snapped.
Ortiz reluctantly lifted her gaze, meeting the coach’s furious eyes. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, though her voice lacked conviction.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Coach Roberts said sharply. “You’re benched for the first period. And if I see anything like that again, you’re done for the day. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Coach,” Ortiz replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
The coach turned to the rest of the team. “And the rest of you—this is not how we play. I expect better. From all of you. Now get your heads in the game and show me that you’re the team I know you can be.”
As the team prepared to head back to the ice, Riley stayed close to Ortiz, her concern evident. “You okay?” she asked softly.
Ortiz nodded, though her shoulders were slumped. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Just… not my best day.”
Riley gave her a small, reassuring smile. “It’ll get better. We’ve got your back.”
Ortiz managed a faint smile in return, grateful for her friend’s support. Despite the rocky start, she knew she had to pull herself together—for the team and for herself. The game was far from over, and Ortiz was determined to prove that she wasn’t going to let anyone—not Grant, not her coach, and not her own mistakes—define her.
The FireHawks’ locker room was alive with victorious energy, the sound of chatter and laughter bouncing off the walls as the players relived every critical moment of the game. Despite the jubilation around her, Val Ortiz sat quietly at her stall, the throbbing pain in her shoulder a stark contrast to the elation buzzing through her teammates. She moved slowly, peeling off her gear with a grimace, her mind racing with the memory of Tyler Grant’s relentless hits—and the venom in her words.
Val tugged her undershirt over her head, revealing the bruises already forming along her shoulder, when the door swung open with a loud creak. The noise in the room died instantly. Every head turned toward the entrance, where Tyler Grant stood, her helmet dangling from her fingers and her skates still laced tight. A sharp intake of breath rippled through the FireHawks.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Riley demanded, standing so quickly her stool toppled over. She stepped forward, glaring daggers at Grant. “You’ve got about two seconds to turn around and walk back out that door.”
Grant met Riley’s hostility with an almost casual shrug. “Relax, rookie. I’m not here to start anything.” Her gaze shifted to Val, who was frozen in her spot. “I just need to talk to Ortiz.”
“No chance,” Maddie snapped, joining Riley. “You’ve done enough damage for one day. Get lost.”
Val, still seated, raised a hand. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Let her talk.”
Riley whirled around, her face a mixture of disbelief and anger. “Are you serious, Val? After everything she pulled today?”
“I said it’s fine,” Val repeated, more forcefully this time. Her teammates hesitated, exchanging uncertain looks, but eventually, they moved aside, though they didn’t go far. They lingered near the other end of the room, ready to intervene at the first sign of trouble.
Grant took a hesitant step forward, her sharp, confident demeanor faltering as her gaze locked with Val’s. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the tension between them palpable.
“You’ve changed,” Grant said finally, her voice softer than it had been all day. “But not as much as you think.”
Val crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. “What do you want, Tyler?”
The use of her first name seemed to catch Grant off guard, and she hesitated. “I wanted to talk. Really talk. We… we never got the chance.”
“Talk?” Val repeated, her tone laced with disbelief. “After everything you’ve done—today, and back then—you think you can just walk in here and ‘talk’?”
Grant flinched but held her ground. “I know I screwed up. I know I hurt you. But it wasn’t what you think.”
Val narrowed her eyes, her voice rising. “Then enlighten me, because from where I’m standing, it looks like you ditched me without a second thought!”
Grant sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. “It wasn’t my choice, Val. Your dad made sure of that.”
The room fell deathly quiet. Val blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice low and wary.
Grant hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Your dad told me to stay away from you. He said I was a bad influence. And then my parents got involved, and suddenly, I wasn’t allowed to see you anymore. They said if I didn’t cut ties, it’d hurt both of us. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Val stared at her, her anger giving way to confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense. My dad wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that.”
“Think about it, Val,” Grant pressed. “He was always overprotective, especially after your mom left. He didn’t like how close we were. You know that.”
The words hit Val like a slap to the face, memories flooding back: her dad’s disapproving looks, the way he always seemed to hover when Tyler was around, his clipped comments about “distractions.” Doubt crept in, and her chest tightened.
“You could’ve told me,” Val said, her voice trembling. “You could’ve fought for us.”
“I was thirteen,” Grant said, her voice breaking. “I didn’t know how. I thought disappearing was the only way to protect you—and myself.”
The weight of the confession hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Val’s mind raced, a mixture of anger, guilt, and heartbreak swirling inside her. She thought of the sleepovers, the late-night talks, the way Tyler used to look at her like she was the center of her world. They had been more than best friends once—they had been everything to each other.
“You didn’t just disappear,” Val said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You ghosted me. And then you acted like I didn’t exist.”
Grant’s expression softened, her eyes shimmering with regret. “I know. And I’m sorry. I was scared, Val. But that doesn’t excuse what I did.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, to the shock of everyone in the room, Val stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Grant. The hug was hesitant at first, but when Grant returned it, it was fierce and unyielding, as if they were clinging to the fragments of what they’d lost.
The FireHawks and Grant’s teammates, who had gathered just outside the doorway, watched with slack-jawed disbelief. Riley muttered, “What the actual hell is happening?”
As they embraced, Grant leaned in, her voice barely audible. “Here.” She slipped a piece of paper into Val’s hand. “My number. If you ever want to talk—or anything.”
Val smiled softly, tucking the paper into her pocket. “Same,” she whispered back.
The moment was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Both girls turned to see Coach Roberts and Grant’s coach standing in the doorway, their faces a mix of confusion and exasperation.
“Ortiz,” Roberts began, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Explain. Now.”
Val stepped back, her cheeks flushing. “Uh… we’re good now?”
Grant smirked, her usual cocky demeanor creeping back in. “Yeah. We’re good.”
The two coaches exchanged incredulous looks. Roberts sighed heavily. “I don’t even want to know,” she muttered. “Everyone, get cleaned up and out of here.”
As the players began dispersing, Roberts and Grant’s coach lingered near the door.
“Did you know they knew each other?” Roberts asked quietly.
“Not a clue,” Grant’s coach replied. “But judging by that hug, there’s a hell of a story there.”
Roberts shook her head, glancing back at Val, who was now smiling—something Roberts hadn’t seen in weeks. “Whatever it is, it seems like it’s been a long time coming.”