The Year We Fell Down Read Online Free PDF Page B

with Hartley’s cast balanced on the coffee table. He pressed “play,” and our two players stared one another down for the face-off. The digital ref dropped the puck between us, and I hooked it with my stick. Then, after passing to my wing, I skated toward the goal.
    Hartley’s goalie came into view. I angled towards him, the puck aiming toward the right hand corner of the net. On the screen, Hartley’s guy inched over to cover that side. I faked to the left, and the goalie swerved right on cue. I slammed the puck right again and sent it into the goal.
    Then I giggled as the fake crowd went wild.
    “What the fuck, Callahan?” Hartley paused the game. “You deked my goalie?” Slowly, his surprised face evolved into a wicked grin. “Hold on, girl. You practiced , didn’t you!”
    I fought against my own smile. “Wouldn’t you, if you were me?”
    “Jesus Christ, you’re going to pay for this…” Then, with some kind of ninja speed, he leaned over and grabbed my arm, raising it up. Before I even knew what was happening, he had his fingers under my armpit, tickling me.
    “Hartley!” I shrieked, shoving his hand away and clamping my arm against my side.
    “You think you’re so sneaky.” He reached for my arm again, but it was a fake-out. I had an older brother, and I knew all the tricks. Even as he dove for my waist instead, I wrenched my elbow down, protecting myself. But Hartley only rose up on his good knee and dove for my vulnerable left side. I shrieked again when he pressed my shoulder against the sofa, his free hand finding two tickling places at once.
    Above me, his brown eyes laughed. As I looked up into them, I felt a rush of warmth, and then something else too. His expression changed, growing more serious. It looked almost hungry.
    A giggle died on my lips as our eyes locked.
    “ What is going on out here?” Dana came out of her room, fastening an earring.
    Releasing me, Hartley tossed himself back onto his own side of the sofa and picked up his game controller.
    And the moment was broken. Or maybe there was no moment, and I imagined the whole thing. As Dana smiled at us, I looked over at Hartley, but he looked the same as always. “ Somebody got shelled,” I answered Dana to cover my own confusion, “and lost his cool.”
    “ Somebody needs to be taught a lesson,” Hartley argued, restarting the game.
    “Bring it,” I said.
    Dana put on a jacket. “Should I have called in a babysitter for you two? No fighting, okay?”
    But we didn’t even answer her, because the game was back on. Hartley won the face-off this time, and I couldn’t get possession. But with a stroke of luck, my goalie evaded him, falling on the puck.
    “Whew,” I said. “That was close.” I looked around for Dana, but she had already gone. “So, we’re still at one-zip, Pittsburgh’s lead.”
    “Now you’re bragging ?” Hartley asked. “I’m going to wipe that smile off your face.”
    My fluttery little hope fairy put a word in then. I can think of a few ways to do that , she simpered.

    RealStix Video Hockey became our thing together. The Bruins vs. Puffins rivalry grew into my favorite obsession. Sometimes we’d play a quick game before dinner on a weeknight. Dana would just shake her head and call us junkies. These games were fun, but we were often interrupted by phone calls for Hartley. He’d pause the game and answer, because at that hour of the day Stacia was just retiring to bed. “Sorry,” he said the first time it happened. “But I can’t call her back later. It’s eleven o’clock over there.”
    “No problem.” Only, it was a problem. Because the phone calls were excruciating.
    “Rome for the weekend? That sounds like fun,” Hartley would say. The indulgent tone he took with her sounded wrong on him. “I bet you’ll give your credit cards a workout. You’d better buy some extra luggage while you’re at it. You’ll never get all your designer booty home.”
    I sat through these