Americus had been building anticipation for the first home hockey game like it was a religious pilgrimage she'd been planning her entire freshman year.
"The season opener is basically a rite of passage," she declared from her position sprawled across their dorm room floor, carefully painting her nails in Yale's signature blue while her speaker pumped out what she called her "game day pump-up playlist." "You cannot legitimately call yourself a real Yale student until you've screamed yourself completely hoarse in the Whale. It's like, written in the unofficial student handbook somewhere."
