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"The people who paid for tickets want to see something they can't see anywhere else." He turns, skating backward so he can face me. "Why'd you pass to me on the power play, then? You could've shot. You always shoot."

"Because you were open."

"Because you knew I'd do something with it." He grins. "Admit it."

"Get in line, Castel."

He goes. Webb glides over and stops beside me, leaning on his stick.

"You're doing the thing," he says.

"What thing."

"The thing Moretti used to do to you in your second year. Standing at the boards, picking apart every touch."

"I'm not yelling."

"No, you're doing it quiet. It's worse." He watches Castel wind up at the other end, hopping from skate to skate, talking a mile a minute to Sorel. "He's not wrong, you know. That spin was filthy."

"It's a practice drill."

"I'm just saying, you've been watching him all morning. Even when he's not in the drill."

"I'm watching everybody."

"Sure," Webb says. "You're very dedicated."

I skate away from him and take the next rep, and I shoot high glove side on purpose because it's where Castel shot, and I miss by a foot.

Moretti keeps me after practice for five minutes to talk about the penalty kill, and by the time I get back to the room, most of the guys are showered and gone. Castel's still in his stall. He's got his phone out and he's texting somebody, fast, both thumbs, grinning at the screen.

He looks up when I sit down.

"Hey," he says. "Question."

"You always have a question."

"This is a real one." He puts the phone down. "Gus was being weird this morning. When I came in. He looked at me like I was sick or something. Then he looked at you." He tilts his head. "Did something happen?"

I pull my practice jersey off over my head so I don't have to look at him.

"No."

"You're sure."

"Gus is always weird."

"He's not, though. He's the least weird guy in this building. He gave me a stick rack for my apartment yesterday. He built it."

"Castel."

"Rémy."

"There was nothing."

He watches me a little longer. He has a way of looking at you where his whole face stays open and friendly, and meanwhile his eyes are going through your pockets.

"Okay," he says finally. "If you say so."