“Give me some chewing tobacco,” Benji asks.

“Are you deaf? I just said I’ve run out.”

Benji just lies there calmly on the floor looking at Kevin. Poking him in the stomach with the stick until Kevin snatches it from him, reaches for his jacket, and fishes out an almost full can of chewing tobacco.

“When are you going to learn that you can’t lie to me?” Benji smiles.

“When are you going to start buying your own chewing tobacco?” Kevin replies.

“Probably around the same time.”

Lyt returns without any chewing tobacco. He nods cheerily at Kevin.

“Are your parents coming to the game tomorrow? My mom’s bought tickets for pretty much all my relatives!”

Kevin says nothing and starts to wrap tape around his stick. Benji sees this out of the corner of his eye and knows exactly what it means, so he turns to Lyt and grins: “Sorry to disappoint you, Lyt, but your family comes to your games to see KEVIN play.”

The room bursts into mocking laughter. And Kevin is spared having to say if his parents are coming to the game. Apart from the fact that Benji never has his own tobacco, it would be hard to find a better friend.

*

Amat is sitting in a corner, doing his very best imitation of an empty corner. As the youngest in the locker room, the maggot, he has good reason to be terrified of attracting attention. He keeps his gaze focused high, to avoid eye contact but still have time to react if anyone throws something at him. The walls of the locker room are covered with posters bearing slogans: “Train hard, win easy.”

“Team before individual.”

“We play for the bear on the front of our jerseys, not the name on the back.”

A recent addition with extralarge print right in the middle says:

“We’re bad losers, because a good loser is someone who’s used to losing!”

Amat’s concentration wanders for a moment, and a little too late he sees Bobo walking across the floor. When the junior back leans his substantial bulk over him, Amat disappears into his shadow and waits for Bobo to hit him, but instead Bobo smiles. Which is much worse.

“You’ll have to excuse the guys here, they haven’t been brought up properly, you know.”

Amat blinks hard, unsure how to respond. Bobo clearly enjoys this, and turns solemnly to the rest of the players, who are now silent and expectant. Bobo points angrily to the pieces of tape littering the floor.

“Look at this mess! Well? Is this how it’s supposed to look? Do you think your mothers work here or something?”

The juniors grin. Bobo marches around demonstratively picking up pieces of tape until they fill his cupped hands. Then he holds them up toward the ceiling like a newborn child and proclaims: “Guys, you need to remember that Amat’s mother works here.”

He meets the newcomer’s gaze, smiles, and says:

“It’s Amat’s mother who works here, guys.”

The pieces of tape hang in the air for a moment before raining down like small, sharp projectiles over the boy in the corner. Bobo’s warm breath hits his ear as he commands: “Can you give your mom a call, maggot? It really is very messy in here.”

*

The locker room empties in ten seconds flat when Lars bellows “TIME!!!” Kevin hangs back till last. He passes Amat, who is on his knees gathering together the pieces of tape.

“It’s only teasing,” Kevin tells him, without a trace of sympathy.

“Sure. Only teasing,” Amat repeats quietly.

“You know that girl . . . Maya . . . don’t you?” Kevin says quickly on his way out through the door, as if it had only just occurred to him.

Amat looks up. He’s watched every single junior training session this season. Things never just occur to Kevin. Everything he ever does is carefully considered and planned.

“Yes,” Amat mumbles.

“Has she got a boyfriend?”

The answer is slow coming. Kevin taps the end of his stick expectantly on the floor. Amat stares down at his hands for a long time before his head finally and reluctantly moves a few inches from side to side. Kevin nods with satisfaction and walks out toward the ice. Amat stays where he is, chewing the inside of his lower lip and breathing hard through his nose, before tossing the tape in the trash and adjusting his pads. The last thing he sees before he goes through the door are words written in almost faded pencil on crumpled yellowed paper: A great deal is expected of anyone who’s been given a lot.

He joins the juniors at the center circle. In the middle of it is an image of a large, threatening bear. The emblem of the club: strength, size, fear. Amat is the smallest person on the ice; he always has been. Ever since he was eight years old everyone has always told him that he won’t be able to handle the next level, that he isn’t tough enough, strong enough, big enough. But now he looks around him. Tomorrow this team is playing a semifinal game—they’re one of the four best junior teams in the whole country. And he’s here. He looks at Lyt and Bobo, at Lars and David, at Benji and Kevin, and thinks that he’s going to show them he can play. Even if it kills him.

*

There’s hardly anything that can make Peter feel as bad as hockey can. And, absurdly, there’s hardly anything that can make him feel better. He keeps going over and over his situation, until the air in his office seems to run out. When the frustration and nausea start to get unbearable, he gets up and goes out to sit in the stands. He usually thinks better there, so he sits there bouncing his ball up and down on the concrete for so long he doesn’t even notice the junior team start their training session down on the ice.

*

Sune emerges from his office to get some coffee, and on the way back he sees Peter sitting on his own in the stands. Sune knows that the GM is a grown man now, but it’s hard for an old coach to stop thinking of his boys as boys.

Sune has never told Peter he loves him. It can be just as hard for father figures to say that as it is for real fathers. But he knows how afraid Peter is of disappointing everyone. All men have different fears that drive them, and Peter’s biggest one is that he isn’t good enough. Not good enough as a dad, not good enough as a man, and not good enough as GM. He lost his parents and his firstborn child, and every morning he’s terrified that he’s going to lose Kira, Maya, and Leo. He couldn’t bear losing his club as well.