I gaped, feeling cheated. Jerald was completely obsessed with the Detroit Red Wings. That fascination shaped his personality and was evaluated in his actions: fast, skilled, and at times vicious. Understanding Gabriel to be accurate about every detail, I had typically concluded he must know everything about hockey to have written such a defining peculiarity into his protagonist.
Gabriel eyed me, disturbed by whatever surprised look I wore.
"We are going to a hockey game," I stated.
"No, we—"
"We are going to a hockey game. Hang on a sec."
I ran back downstairs, shoved Wilson off our computer, and got the proof I needed. It was just as I had suspected.
The Thunderbirds' season had just begun.
"Six-thirty," I told Gabriel, minutes later.
"Meet me at Key Arena, at the main window. I will buy the tickets."
He looked skeptical.
"Six-thirty," I repeated.
