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everyone started calling him Sharknado .
    He also signed up to volunteer at camp for local kids who were interested in playing hockey. Zoe explained that the program was funded by the Sea Storm Foundation, in an attempt to get more locals interested in the sport. Ethan told her he’d do whatever he could to help out and promised to rope Riley into doing so too.
    “Sloany’ll be there too. Right?” Ethan said, nudging her. “Captain’s duty and all that.”
    Since their last captain was traded over the summer, Ryan had been elected to take his place—despite the joke that the position was cursed and whoever held it would be traded before the next season.
    “Yup. Also marketing coordinator’s boyfriend’s duty,” Zoe agreed. “And oh, that reminds me. There are some shirts and jerseys of yours in the pro shop. If you could autograph some for promotional events, that’d be swell.”
    “Sure.” Ethan grinned. “Do I get a discount if I want some?”
    “Yup. But we’ll give you some to take to the camp. Also if you want to send a few to your family, let me know, and I’ll throw a few extra in there for you.”
    “Thanks, Zoe,” Ethan said sincerely. “That’d be great.”
    “No problem. I really appreciate you helping out with the volunteer stuff. I tried to get Lane to do it, and he was kind of… well, Lane.” She laughed. “But you’re great at it, and the camp thing is important to me.”
    “Me too. Hockey made sure these are tattoos from my sister and not prison,” he joked, but it was the truth. “I had this history teacher who told me if I didn’t find something to do with all my energy and being angry, I’d join the army and end up court-martialed for punching someone for using a racial slur.” Ethan smiled at the memory. “He took me to his rec league, and I had no idea what I was doing. But I loved it. I probably don’t skate that much better than I did then. So hopefully you got someone else to teach the fundamentals.”
    “I think you’ll be great,” Zoe said. “And that’s a great story. Mind if I put it in the promotional materials?”
    “Maybe not the part about me being court-martialed,” he said, and she laughed.
    The Sea Storm started their season with a win, followed by a loss that weekend, and Ethan got in a fight in both games. According to hockeyfights.com, Ethan won both of those fights handily. Someone in the comments called him a badass, and another one called him a goon. Awesome.
    Things were going pretty great, as far as Ethan was concerned. He loved the weather, he had friends and a roommate, and he was playing hockey. He missed his sisters, but they kept in touch. He was saving up—which somehow was going better than usual, though he didn’t know why—so they could come visit. He had no complaints and he was excited about helping out with the hockey camp.
    And then shit got weird.
    It all started when Ethan’s sister Britt texted him that she’d e-mailed a picture of her, Kelsey, and their mom in the brand-new Sea Storm jerseys Ethan sent them. Britt said they all approved of the teal color, even if the water-tornado logo made them all giggle. It made Ethan giggle too. It was just so angry .
    Ethan’s computer was a centuries-old Dell laptop that sometimes turned on and sometimes didn’t, depending on the moon or the weather or the time of day. When he went to check his e-mail for the picture his sister sent, his laptop turned on, but the screen remained obstinately dark.
    “Hey, Riles, can I check my e-mail on your laptop?” Ethan asked his roommate, who was making dinner. Maybe that was why he was saving up so much money. Riley made them dinner most nights, which meant Ethan didn’t have to spend on pizza and McDonalds. “Mine’s dying.”
    “Sure,” Riley said, flipping a piece of chicken in the pan.
    Ethan went into Riley’s room, which was a lot neater than his, and sat at the desk in front of Riley’s MacBook. He navigated to Gmail, signed