End Game (New York Stars Book 1) -
End Game: Gracie
đ đ Teenage Dirtbag â Wheatus
âPE-TER PAN! PE-TER PAN! PE-TER PAN!â
From the friends and family box, I sit with my eyes locked on the tunnel.
Waiting.
Seething.
Ire building.
Patience draining.
The fans are chanting for âPeter Pan,â aka Liam Donnghal, a guy who billeted with us from sixteen until he left to play for the MontrĂ©al Mounties when he was drafted into the NHL.
Next, they start singing for my brother, Kow, because theyâre a power duo thatâs had the talking heads beaking up a storm this season.
Neither of them has left the locker room yet, but theyâll be on the ice soon.
I canât goddamn wait to see them.
Beside me, Mom, Dad, Trent, Noah, Cole, Gray, and Matt are waiting in the wings. The whole family, billet boys and all, have never made it to a game before, but this is the first time that if Liam and Kow win, theyâll be in the Stanley Cup final.
Trent and Gray, eighteen months older than Liam and Kow, are still in the minors, making this the first big-deal NHL game the Bukowskis have ever played in. Hell, even Liamâs absentee dad, Padraig, traveled from QuĂ©bec City with his mom to watch!
Itâs an important occasion.
Huge.
A lifetime of familial support got them here. The fans arenât calling out the momsâ and dadsâ names, though. Theyâre the ones who scrimped and saved for endless stick purchases and paid hundreds of bucks a week to fill those bottomless pits they have for stomachs.
For almost two decades, life has centered around the ice like it was our churchâŠ
The god of the NHL has finally heeded the Bukowskisâ call.
My teeth grit as I wait with the rest of the stadium, which practically glows red for the home team, until finally, the lights stop dancing like weâre in a nightclub and blare on for the players to start stretching.
âI canât believe it. Weâve waited so long for this moment,â Mom cries, her hands clapping together like a seal.
Dad grabs one of them, presses her knuckles to his lips, and, in his thick Polish accent, declares, âBoys good. They win. We take Stanley Cup to print shop.â
Because Dad said it, I donât roll my eyes, just duck in my seat.
âFurball, you get any lower, youâll slither onto the floor,â Gray rumbles, scuffing a hand over my tuque, tugging at my hair, and prompting me to glower at him as I right it on my head. His gaze sharpens when he takes in my expressionâheâs the first one to realize somethingâs wrong with me. âYou okay, sis?â
Thereâs an irony to thatâhe calls me âsisâ and treats me better than my biological brothers do.
Along with Liam, Gray, Matt, and Cole have billeted with us for yearsâtheyâre found family. Trent, Noah, and Kow were mistakes the stork brought along to make me suffer.
âIâm fine,â is my wooden response.
His focus turns concerned. âYou look like youâve been crying. Has Kow said something to piss you off again? Someone had to tell him, Gracie,â he assures me. âHe needs to cut out the drinking and he only ever listens to you.â
Oh, yeah, he really listened.
âI donât cry over that loser.â
âGracie! Donât call your brother names. Whatâs gotten into you?â Mom chides, her voice high enough that the people in front of us twist back to stare.
Whatâs gotten into me?
Ha, more like what has my brother gotten into.
My best friend, Charlotte, thatâs who.
Or, should I say, âso-calledâ best friend whoâs only ever hung around with me because of Kow. Go figure.
If it didnât hurt so much, Iâd laugh it off because itâs creepy as shit.
But it does hurt.
I thought we were like sisters.
Honest-to-God BFFs.
Yet, I learned she was stringing me along to hop into bed with my skank ho of a hockey-boi brother who only fucked her to get back at me.
How dare I tell him that he was partying too hard and that it was affecting his performanceâŠ
How dare I care when our whole family has waited years for this opportunity that heâs pissing down the drainâŠ
What an asshole.
Matt gets into my face. âWhat did he do?â
âNothing.â
âLittle bit, you forget that we know when youâre lying,â Cole says, sticking his nose in.
I glare at him and repeat, âNothing.â
They glance at one another.
âWhat did you do?â Gray asks slowly, like heâs approaching a ticking time bomb.
This time, I smile.
Cole grunts. âFuck.â
âFryd!â Mom cries. âWhat on earthââ
Her gasp snatches my attention. Quickly, I study the ice, but I donât have to hunt for long.
There, amid the bright red jerseys, are two teens with green grapes for heads.
A choked chuckle escapes Matt. âYou didnât!â
âYou dyed them green? Howââ Cole sputters before he almost rolls off his seat heâs laughing so hard.
âFuck, Gracie. FUCK. Thatâs just cruel.â Gray cackles. âMy God, they look like the Philly Fanaticâs twin brothersââ
With vengeance served, I get to my feet.
âWhere do you think youâre going, young lady?â Mom barks, but then she sees my glee. Her eyes widen in horror. âGracie, you didnâtââ
Dad demands, âWhat they do?â
God, I love him.
So. Much.
Heâs always on my side.
Always.
âGRACIE AGNIESKA BUKOWSKI! What did you do?!â Mom shrieks as my green-as-grass brothers, Liam and Kow, start skating around the ice.
Payback, thatâs what I did.
Which is when Kow makes my decade by kicking off a fight with one of the Lumberjacks, who are obviously giving him shit for doing a four-leaf clover impression.
Before my delighted eyes, he gets tossed from the game.
Satisfaction slides through me, warmer than hot cocoa in the winter and more delicious than iced tea on a summerâs day.
Though Liam isnât to blame, he kind of is for being my brotherâs best friend.
For choosing him over me.
But then, why am I surprised?
Everyone chooses my brothers over meâeven girls Iâve known since I was little.
If heâd have loved her, Iâd have understood and accepted them getting together. But Kow is incapable of that; he only loves himself.
Mom tries to snag a hold of my hand to stop me from leaving but I snatch it away and head for the tunnel. There, I shake off the dayâs misery and grief and betrayal as I rush toward the outer hall.
I can hear Gray and Cole as well as my dad shouting my name, but the stadiumâs buzzing. People who were taking the last-minute opportunity to grab snacks before the game starts are rushing for their seats when the news that Kow got tossed spreads around like a game of telephone.
Taking advantage of the chaos, I slip among the crowd to elude them.
A few minutes of keeping my head low and Iâm through security.
Gaze locked on my phone, I snap off a text in the family chat, telling them Iâll loop them in when I get where Iâm goingâVancouverâso they can call off the search.
âMs. Bukowski?â Erick from security calls before I leave. âYou okay? You look like real upset.â
For the past year, Iâve been the resident ghost, shadowing my brother and Liam, so the stadium staff knows me.
As I swipe at my cheeksâI didnât even realize I was cryingâI shoot him a weak smile. âIâm fine, Erick.â
âYou sure?â he pesters.
As I head outside, I turn back to nod at him. âYou wonât see me again, Erick.â
His brows lift. âDo you need me to call someoneââ
I hold out a hand. âIâm moving to Vancouver so I can go to college in the fall.â
âYou are?â
âI am.â I suck in a breath. âItâs time I started living for me and not hockey.â
He looks more confused than ever, but thatâs the funny thingâmy mind is clear. Like crystal.
At that moment, I donât realize Iâll make history for what will become known as the âgreen dye affair.â
Nor do I know that Liam will, from here on out, cease being known as âPeter Panâ and will be called the âLeprechaunâ for scoring his first hat trick.
Nor do I realize itâll be almost eleven years before I set foot in a stadium again.
All that matters is⊠Iâm out of here.
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