Another night, I was again cheering at one of Asher’s hockey games. A sober aura hung among the crowd.
Since the typical second-line right winger was out with injury, they’d brought up someone from the fourth line. That empty fourth line spot was then filled in by an unknown.
Asher hadn’t seemed happy about it. He’d told me on the phone that the team is like a family. It would take time for someone new to fit in among them.
Yet the latest injured player wasn’t the entire reason for the gloomy mood in the arena.
This time, the score had a major part in it. Lunarhaven Academy was down by three goals.
“Did someone steal our playbook?” Nicole asked me between our cheering routines in the stand. None of our cheers seemed to rouse any team spirit today.
I knew what she meant. The opponen
