"Boring..." Mattie droned as he laid his curly black hair'd head against the cement wall: Perched in between a garbage can and my best friend, I was having a hard time staying awake. (5am practice compiled with a less then exciting field trip to PNC was proving to be a rough day.)
"It doesn't even make sense!" Marty sighed walking over to stand in front of us. "I mean... you'd think a field trip to see baseball would be awesome but... this is just... just lame!" Marty was the captain of the Avonworth Junior A hockey team, my hockey team. At 6'3" and 245 lbs he was one of the best defence men in the area, and one hell of a guy to have behind you during a game. "Hey... guys... check it out!"
Marty sprinted off towards a railing looking down over what appeared to be street. Mattie sighed and slapped my leg, pushing himself off the bench and trotting off after Marty. I untwined my legs from under me and set off too, catching the eyes off Matthew Carrol and Adam Constable as I went.
I made my way slowly through the crowd of my fellow classmates before I could see Marty and Mattie clearly. They were now almost obscured from view, down below the level we were standing on: off towards the parking lot. Carrol and Consti (Adam) fell into step beside me and together we made our way down the steps, careful to avoid any teacher detection.
This was the way it always was: One would take off and the other four would follow. We were the best of friends, but more importantly, we were the best of team mates. Mattie to my left, Carrol to my right, Marty and Consti picking up the defence, and me, Carlie Simone in centre. I couldn't imagine it any other way. Mattie, Carrol and I had been playing the starting line-up since we were 9: Marty and Consti joined in once we reached midget.
It had always been strange to everyone, a girl playing on the first line in a boys hockey league: but if these boys though it was strange, they never told me. I was not the first girl to play in a boys league in Pennsylvania, but I was the first to succeed at such a high level of game. I had been MVP on and off for years, top goal scorer for the past three years, and I had never been below top two or three in the league for points since I scored my first goal at the ripe old age of 6. We were always the favorite for league champs, with Mattie and Carrol it was natural, normal. We'd been playing together for so long we performed like a well oiled machine, never stopping, always effective.
They had all made such big plans, plans that they knew they could fulfill. Our coach always joked about us being the first childhood line to ever play in the big leagues... the NHL. We knew it was always a joke though, they would move on. I wouldn't. Not that people hadn't been interested. Sure, any tournment we went to always had scouts looking for new talent, and I was always top on their list, until they found out that I was a girl, then they lost interested... went for the next in line.
"Grab a stick, they got lots!" Mattie called over his shoulder once Carrol, Consti and I reached the parking lot: apparently just in time for a pick-up game with some locals.
"I'm not playing hockey on the same team as a chick" some brown-eyed preppy boy said to his friends in a carrying whisper.
"Well it's a good thing you're not on the same team as her then, isn't it?" Carrol smiled back before slapping me on the back with his left hand. His right hand was holding two sticks, he passed one off to me.
"Sure you don't wanna sit out babe? You might break a nail..." The prep boys all chuckled, so did we - for very different reasons.
38 minutes later, on the bus back to school
"Ahhhhh sweet victory" Carrol chotted. We all laughed. 12-1 was always a fun trumph, even if it was against a group of high school jocks.
"And... most importantly... no nails broken!" I flashed a grin, holding up my fingers for them to see. "A stunning accomplishment I must say".
"Oh Carlie, you just keep getting better and better. Pretty soon Crosby will be beggin for advice!" Mattie giggled before turning to look out his window. Consti was eating in the seat behind Mattie and I (nothing new there), Carrol was sneaking some vodka from a water bottle in his bag to our right and Marty had headphones in one ear, listening to what sounded like generic rap beside Consti.
"Mmm!" I announced loudly "Sidney Crosby can have anything he wants... and so much more!" I sighed, settling back into my seat with a theatrical smile on my face.
"Ohhhhh k... I think I just threw up in my mouth" Carrol complained at the same time Consti yelled "Yo! Eating!"
"How about you close your mouth when you eat, you put that vodka away, you stop doing whatever it is your doing... cause God only knows (Mattie quickly dropped his backpack on the ground looking around 'innocently') and you keep yourself focused, we have a game tonight" Marty the voice of reason suggested before putting in both earphones and lying back in his seat with his eyes closed.
I knew why the game tonight was important. Scouts from the world juniors had heard about our unstoppable winning streak and were coming to see if there was any fact behind the stories. Not that it mattered, they wouldn't want to see me anyway. Marty was right though, I had to stay focused, if I had no chance of moving on I could at least play a great game and hope the best for them.
6pm (Game at 8) on the ice
I always came to the ice before the game. In fact, I just always came to the ice. It was the only place everything felt right. The smell, the sound, the feel of the arena: it made everything else seem to melt away. Nothing else mattered when we were here, the path was clear: play hard, play fast, play.
When I was here I was able to forget about my parents, their lack of support and attention (my dad was a successful business man for a fortune 500 company and he had no need for a hockey playing daughter: my mom was always on vacation somewhere, she stopped calling home on her trips when I was 10). School, boys, everything that didn't matter in general.
This was right, this was home, but it couldn't always be. The thought was one I had often, but it always hit me like a ton of bricks: tightening my chest and making it hard to breath. It was just so unfair! I had played against so many boys that I had been better then, but they would always get furthur then me. I hated having something hockey related out of my control, no matter how good I played, I'd never make it any further then this beat up rink.
Good nature laughing started to echo around that rink: my boys were here. Time to pull it together.
When I was here I was able to forget about my parents, their lack of support and attention (my dad was a successful business man for a fortune 500 company and he had no need for a hockey playing daughter: my mom was always on vacation somewhere, she stopped calling home on her trips when I was 10). School, boys, everything that didn't matter in general.
This was right, this was home, but it couldn't always be. The thought was one I had often, but it always hit me like a ton of bricks: tightening my chest and making it hard to breath. It was just so unfair! I had played against so many boys that I had been better then, but they would always get furthur then me. I hated having something hockey related out of my control, no matter how good I played, I'd never make it any further then this beat up rink.
Good nature laughing started to echo around that rink: my boys were here. Time to pull it together.
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