THE SERPENTS’ training facility is my favorite place in the world. The second I step through the doors, everything feels alive. Skates scrape against ice in the arena beyond the hallway. Coaches shout instructions. Trainers wheel carts full of equipment from room to room. Phones ring. People rush past carrying clipboards, coffee, and stacks of paperwork. I love all of it. The chaos. The noise. The energy. The feeling that something important is always happening. “Morning, kiddo.” I grin as one of the equipment managers passes by. “Morning, Frank.” Everybody knows me here. At least, it feels that way. My sneakers squeak against the polished floor as I hurry after my father. He’s already halfway down the corridor, talking to someone in a suit while checking something on his phone.
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