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It’s at a game between Ottawa and Detroit the first time Shane really hears an NHL player chirp. David and he are watching at ice level from just behind the net, and it’s the end of the first period when Anderson checks Brown a little too hard into the boards directly in front of them. Brown, who’s known for being hotheaded even when his team isn’t down by two points on home ice, doesn’t take this lightly. “Hey, Anderson,” he calls out. “Try that again and I’ll fuck your wife!”
“Fuck you!” Anderson shouts over his shoulder as he skates away.
Shane turns to David with wide eyes. “What did he say?”
“Something that wasn’t very nice,” David replies, cringing internally. He'd hoped he’d have a few more years before Shane started to understand the players’ taunts. “Why don’t we get some popcorn before the next period starts?”
“No, thanks.” Shane masterfully ducks David’s tried-and-true technique for distracting him from difficult conversations. “What does ‘fuck’ mean?”
“It’s a bad word. One you shouldn’t say.”
“But then why did Brown say that?”
“I don’t know, Shane,” David says. “He probably didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a chirp.”
“Chirp?” Shane repeats.
“It’s when…grown-up hockey players say mean things to each other to make them mad. You’ve heard it before, right?”
Shane shrugs. “I guess,” he replies. “But why?”
“I don’t know, Shane,” David replies. “It’s just part of the NHL.” He takes his son’s hand and pulls him out of his seat before he can ask any more questions. “Now come on, let’s get a snack.”
~
Most of the crowd has forgotten about Brown’s outburst by the start of the next period, but not Shane. He might still be at the age where half the boys in his class want to be hockey players when they grow up, but Shane’s different. Already the best in his league, Shane knows that he’s going to play in the NHL one day.
So, the next time he has a game, Shane isn’t looking to show off his snapshot. He’s looking for an opportunity to try out something far more important to his future as a professional hockey player — chirping.
He finds his first opening within minutes when another player on the opposing team drops his stick and then immediately trips over it. “That was bad,” he says. The kid just gives him a confused look as he skates away.
So maybe he didn’t get it right on the first try. That’s no big deal. Shane’s nothing if not persistent, so he waits for a different player to miss a shot. “You’re really bad at hockey,” Shane chirps. This time, he at least gets a “shut up” in response.
But nothing can compare to the opportunity that presents itself when Shane scores against the opposing team’s goalie, Simon Martel. Everybody knows that Simon’s dad left his mom for his new girlfriend in Alberta, but they’re not supposed to talk about it in front of him. So if Shane wants to get under Simon’s skin, this is surely the perfect ammunition. “Hey, Simon,” Shane calls out, a wide smile on his face. His teammates are going to be so impressed. “Maybe if you were a better goalie, your dad would still be here.”
Simon opens his mouth, and Shane thinks, excellent, he’s going to give it back to me. But instead, Simon lets out a sob and flees.
The next thing he knows, Shane is being hauled off the ice by Coach Thompson. He receives a brief but thorough chewing out before being ordered to sit on the bench, fighting back tears of humiliation as the game continues without him.
But what stings more than being forced to sit out an entire game is the look on Yuna’s face when she retrieves him from the bench at the end. She’s disappointed in him, and Shane doesn’t even understand why. He was just doing what his dad told him. “Shane, what happened?” she asks. “Your coach said that you made fun of Simon’s dad? Why would you do that?”
“I was trying to be mean,” Shane tries to explain.
“Well, don’t do that again,” Yuna says. “And you’ll apologize to Simon next time you see him.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Yuna says, her lips tight. “Get in the car.”
~
After that, Shane doesn’t try chirping again. Not in rep, not in juniors, and not even when he gets drafted by Montreal. He just keeps his mouth shut and skates, letting the other players’ chirps roll off his back. Occasionally, he might rib a teammate with a “nice goal” after their shot goes wide, but he’s careful to never push further than that.
And most of the time, that’s fine with Shane. He’s never been the physical type to begin with, and if nothing else, staying out of fights saves him a fair bit of pain and injury. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that sponsors love his image as a good Canadian boy. He knows his deal with Rolex — which any other player in the league would kill for — would have never happened if he played like Ilya or even Hayden.
But that doesn’t mean it never gets tiring to stay above it all. All the times his teammates tease him for leaving parties early, alone and sober. When the announcers praise other players for being aggressive and all they can say about him is that he’s “solid.” And especially after Cosmo votes him the No. 1 Hottest Man in the NHL and it seems that everyone thinks it’s funny to call him “pretty boy” and he wishes he could hit back with something stronger than “you’re just jealous.”
It finally comes out over lunch with his parents. Yuna is reading aloud a list of potential sponsors, and each one is duller than the next. “Okay, so I think we can agree that Subway is a no,” she says. “What about Procter & Gamble? It sounds like they’re trying to reform the public’s image of Tide Pods.”
“Tide Pods, really?” Shane rolls his eyes. “I’m so clean that I can only be sponsored by laundry detergent now?”
Yuna looks up. “You alright, Shane?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…other hockey players get to do cool sponsorships, like whiskey and cars. But I’m the good boy, so I have to do the boring stuff like — like fucking Tide Pods.”
“And Rolex? Reebok?” Shane shoots his mother an irritated look. She frowns and sets down her phone. “Okay. I hear you. And you know, you don’t always have to play the nice Canadian boy just because that’s what the media wants from you,” she says. “If you want to change your style, start playing more aggressively or go with your teammates to clubs, you can do that.”
“But what about the sponsors? You’re always saying—”
“They’re not going to drop you unless you do something awful,” Yuna assures him. “I mean, please don’t do anything to get yourself hurt. But it’s your career. You can do whatever you want.”
“But I’m not allowed to chirp.”
Yuna frowns. “What? Who told you that?”
“Uh…you did.”
“I — what?” Yuna shakes her head. “Shane, what are you talking about? I would never tell you that you couldn’t chirp.”
“Yes, you did,” Shane replies. “Back in Atom.”
Yuna blinks. Recognition slowly dawns in her eyes. “You mean, that incident with that boy from your school when you were, what, nine? What was his name?”
“Simon.”
“Yeah, Simon. You made him cry.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Shane mutters defensively. “I was just trying to be a hockey player.”
Yuna sighs. “Oh, I know that now. But at the time, I was worried you were picking up bad habits.” She shakes her head. “Shane, I didn’t mean you could never chirp. I just didn’t want you to become a bully.” She reaches across the table to take Shane’s hand. “You really thought you were never allowed to chirp at anyone? Ever?”
“Well…” When he hears it from his mother’s voice, he can tell how ridiculous it sounds. “I guess I didn’t really think about it.”
Yuna shakes her head again. “I can’t believe you even still remember that,” she remarks. “But Shane, you’re in the NHL. You can chirp if you want to.”
Shane flashes a smile. “Yes, mom.”
~
So at his next game, a home game against the Admirals, Shane decides that he’s going to try chirping. He waits until after the game is over, so he doesn’t get distracted. And he goes for Hunter because, well, he’s an easy mark. The New York captain still looks like he’s catching his breath two minutes after the final whistle has blown, so Shane skates up to him. “Hope next time we play, you decide to show up,” he tosses out.
Hunter looks up. “Cheap.” He spits in Shane’s direction.
“True,” Shane counters. He spits back, although not towards Hunter.
“You’re starting to sound like him,” Hunter fires back.
“I’m sorry, what?” Chirps forgotten, he takes a step toward Hunter. Surely he must’ve misunderstood. There’s no way...
Hunter straightens up to look Shane dead in the eye. “You fucking heard me, Hollander.”
The next few moments are a blur. He remembers the ice dropping out from under his feet because Scott Hunter knows and the only thing he can do is make sure he never, ever thinks to say anything to anyone else. Then the refs are between them, teammates dragging him away, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s dropped his gloves.
Back in the locker room, Shane finds three missed calls to his cell phone. One from Ilya and two from his mom. His thumb hesitates over the options for a few moments before he picks one to return.
Yuna picks up on the first ring. “Shane, what happened?”
He knows she’s not talking about his two goals. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay, then, what happened? What did Hunter say to you? What did you say to him?”
Hunter’s face flashes in his mind’s eye, and just for a moment, Shane thinks about telling his mother everything. But the words stick in his throat. He can’t do this; he’s not ready. “You were right,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry.”
“Shane, no, tell me what—”
“I made a mistake. I don’t want to chirp again.”