Eleven years later
Lakeville, Minnesota

RING RING RING RING RING!!!

A red mechanical alarm clock hops in the air, its two bells vibrating feverishly, making it whole body shake.

Beyond the hovering, quivering clock is a bed with its quilts over its owner. The blankets begin to shift as the sleeper shuffles underneath it. Then a mass of tangled, brown hair pops out from the edge of the quilt, including the owner’s face.

He has light brown hair with a blond highlight in the front, squinted, brown eyes, and freckles across his cheeks and nose bridge. This is Jake Oettinger, the newest goalie of the Boston University Boston Terriers.

Jake reaches over and slaps his floating and ringing alarm clock, shutting it off.

The clock drops back on its legs, still and quiet.

Jake has observant eyes on his motionless alarm clock, making sure it would not start ringing again. Yet beside the clock, he spots a slip of folded paper.

He pulls himself to a sitting position, revealing his white T-shirt, and swipes the paper. “What’s this?” he asks in his deep, thick voice, unfolding the paper.

He then reads the text on the extended piece of paper.

Come Play In A Major Junior/Tier 1/Collegiate Stick & Puck Session!
Fox Valley Ice Arena, Chicago, Illinois Today @ 3:50 pm

Jake’s small eyes fly open with excitement as he lets out an excited gasp. “Stick and puck?” he blurts out, the goofy tone in his voice becoming more evident. “I LOVE stick and puck!” He throws his hands with the paper in the air. “Let’s go play stick and puck!”

He pulls his quilt off of him, revealing his plaid red flannel pants, swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and hops off of the bed.

He rushes across his room on the carpeted floor, passing by a curled up, sleeping raccoon dog.

The raccoon dog is quite big, bearing a thick, fluffy coat with different shades of gray, black, white, and brown. This is Zeke, Jake’s pet raccoon dog.

Zeke perks his head up, awoken by the thumping footsteps of his owner. He has beady black eyes and small, rounded ears. The sides of his face have fur protruding from them, giving the impression of him wearing an Eskimo hood.

Jake pops back into view, fully dressed for the pickup session with his red and white Boston University-themed sweat jacket and sweatpants.

“Zeke, aren’t you excited?!” Jake shouts exhilarated to his pet, throwing his hands in the air. “We’re gonna play stick and puck!” He then swoops over and scoops Zeke’s front small paws into each of his large hands and pulls them up, lifting the animal on his hind legs.

Jake then begins bobbing from side to side to the tune of his improvised song: “Dah-dah-dah-dah! Stick and puck! Dah-dah-dah-dah! Stick and puck! Dah-dah-dah-dah! Stick and puck! Skate! Shoot!”

He then places Zeke’s paws gently on the carpet and swipes his new catcher’s glove into his left hand. “...SAVE!” He holds his glove up in the air.

Zeke peers up at him, letting out a low whine.

Jake drops his hand and turns back to his confused pet. “Alright, let’s gooo!”

---

Chicago, Illinois
Seven hours later

A red pickup truck enters a parking lot and rolls in front of a humble, white, one-story building.

Jake’s head pokes out from the driver’s window, eying the arena in awe. “We’re here!”

From the passenger’s seat behind Jake, Zeke is peacefully nibbling on Concord grapes.


A few moments later, Jake pushes a door to a locker room open with his body, rolling his hockey bag behind him and his stick occupying his other hand.

He halts in the middle of the doorway, his elated smile dropping to a disappointed frown.

The empty stalls are staring back at him.

“Huh. Where’s everyone else?” His eyes flick around the vacant room with his thin eyebrows knitted. “Am I the only one?” He casts his eyes down. “I-I can’t be the only one…”

He then lets out an excited gasp, flicking his eyes back up as a comforting reason pops into his mind. “Oh, everyone came late! I’m the first one here!” He then peers down at Zeke, who is by his feet loyalty. “Alright, Zeke, let’s get changing!”

---

A few minutes later, Jake is in his red and white-coloured goalie gear with his helmet over his head, his water bottle in his catcher’s glove, and his stick in his blocker glove’s grasp. He is lumbering by the empty ice, heading toward the its entrance.

Jake takes in a deep breath of the comforting, chilled, chlorine-scented air. “I’m so excited for this!” he exclaims with a massive smile. “I love stick and puck!”

He peers down to his right side, spotting Zeke, who is trotting by side him. “Do you like stick and puck, Zeke?” He pauses, as if his pet is answering him. “Of course, you do, who doesn’t!”

Jake peers ahead, spotting that the entrance is now a step away. ”We’re here, we’re here and…!”

He steps out onto the smooth ice and lets himself glide down it.

Zeke darts ahead of him, scurrying toward the benches before tumbling on the slippery surface.

Jake’s grin then disappears as he takes in the empty arena. “Where’s everyone?” he asks, his voice coated with sadness. “Who’s gonna shoot at me?”

“I will!” a strong, arrogant-tone voice proclaims from behind the goalie.

Jake turns around smoothly, spotting the owner of the voice.

He is shorter than him by a few inches, wearing black equipment with red and gray designs, including a “C” iron over his heart. Behind his visor are rounded, emerald-coloured eyes under intensely thick brown eyebrows; he also has a goatee. This is Brett Howden, the captain and forward of the Moose Jaw Warriors.

Jake gasps in excitement. “Yay!” He throws his thick arms in the air, including his stick, and glides up to him.

Another skater then steps onto the ice. He is about two inches shorter than the two, wearing gold, black, and white-coloured equipment with an “A” on the heart of his jersey. He has rounded, slightly heavy-lidded hazel-coloured eyes under full, thin, straight eyebrows and stubble lining his jawline, chin, and above his lips. This is Kale Clague, the alternate captain and defenceman of the Brandon Wheat Kings.

“Where is everyone?” he mutters bitterly, narrowing his suspicious eyes around the rink’s surroundings. “I thought all the junior leaguers would be here. Why is it only you two?” He eyes Jake and Brett stretching with each other while conversing and laughing.

Another skater arrives on the ice and comes up to Kale. He is much shorter than him, wearing red, white, and blue-coloured equipment. He has small, gray eyes on his rounded face and thin, curved eyebrows. This is Kailer Yamamoto, a forward of the Spokane Chiefs.

“This is quite peculiar…,” he murmurs in a sophisticated, silvery tone. He halts next to Kale with his eyes on the rink. “There seems to be no other humanly presence hereabouts with the exception of you and them two.”

Kale peers at him with knitted eyebrows. “Keanu?”

Kailer reverts his gaze up at him. “Kailer.”

Kale turns away from him with a frown for mixing up Kailer with his older brother, Keanu Yamamoto. “Hm.”

A goalie then glides up to the two standing skaters. He is wearing white-coloured equipment with navy blue and golden accents. Under his helmet are his hooded, brown eyes and relatively thick eyebrows. This is Jeremy Swayman, the goalie of the Sioux Falls Stampede.

“Excuse me,” he calls out in a deep, cool voice while halting next to Kailer. “Is this the Tier I league stick and puck session?”

Kale turns to him. “Apparently.”

“Yes, it is!” Kailer leans on his stick as if it is a cane. “We’re just waiting on others to arrive. It’d be nice to organize a scrimmage.”

Then Jake charges up to the small skater. “Kale-ler!!!” He halts in front of him with a massive grin.

Behind Jake, Brett is laughing hysterically.

“It’s ‘KAILER,’” Kailer barks at him. “K-A-I-L-E-R. KAI-LER.”

“Kailer?” Jake tilts his head while processing the correction. “Kai?”

“Yes, like ‘tai’ as in ‘tai-chi,’” Kailer explains tranquility. “Just add the ‘-ler’ at the end.”

“Or like ‘chai tea’?” Jake eyes him with anticipation.

Kailer peers to his left, pondering the question. “Mmm, yes, if you think about it that way” —he turns to the goalie— “I presume.”

Jake gasps happily. “CHAI TEA!” He hastily turns around in his bulky equipment. “I WANT CHAI TEA!!!” He then charges back to Brett.

Kailer then lowers his head against the back of his gloves, which are propped on the end of his stick’s shaft, pressing his visor against it. “What did I do…?” he croaks out.

Then another skater steps out onto the ice, wearing red, yellow, and white-coloured equipment. He has hooded and rounded, brown eyes, full eyebrows, and lightly-defined cheekbones. This is Matteo Pietroniro, a defenceman of the Baie-Comeau Drakkar.

“Wow,” he huffs out in a deep tone. “This is empty.”

Suddenly, the lights go off, engulfing the rink into thick darkness.

“AAAHHH!!!”

“What’s going on?”

“Arugh, who turned off the lights?”

“I can’t see!”

“Something’s pulling me...!”

“Whoa--!”

The lights over the centre ice flick back on, shining its rays on the six junior hockey players, who are now in a straight line from tallest to shortest: Jake, Jeremy, Matteo, Brett, Kale, and Kailer.

Kale peers around the darkness in pure confusion. “What on earth…?”

Then four blue-coloured holographic men step out from the darkness and into the spotlight. They halt feet away, facing them.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Tommy greets warmly with a smile. “Glad you can make it.”

Notes