by K R Collins
“Thank you.” Mary Beth sounds distant as if she’s already compiling a list of reporters and outlets. “You know for sure?”
“The news broke in Sweden. Elsa confirmed it when I asked. It won’t be long before North America catches up.”
“Are you still in Concord?”
“I am and I’m staying until the season.”
“We’ll do a mix of in-person and phone interviews then. We’ll get you on the ice for some of them to remind everyone Concord’s future is already here and it looks bright.” There’s a pause. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask how you’re doing with the news.”
“Concord’s future is bright,” Sophie parrots. “Fan Fest was only a preview of what this season will be.”
“Concord took a chance on Elsa Nyberg,” Marty Owen from The Concord Courier says.
Sophie did phone interviews with Representation Matters and After the Whistle. The National Sports Network flew someone in to talk with her and she sat down with Ed Rickers from The Granite State Sports Network. She wishes her interview with Marty Owen had been over the phone.
Of course, if her wishes were being granted, she wouldn’t have to talk to him at all.
Today, Owen’s suit is too big in the shoulders and too short in the sleeves. He has ink stains on his fingers and he brandishes his phone like a weapon. She’s never had a comfortable relationship with the media. They’re always demanding more and trying to trick her into headlines to sell articles. She isn’t dynamic like Dima or funny like Merlin. She can’t even quite capture the serious but personable vibe Matty goes with.
Bland and boring is her fallback, and she relies on all her years of practice to keep her expression neutral as Owen stares her down, challenging. “Elsa isn’t the first player not to come over in her first year, and she certainly won’t be the last.”
“You don’t think this is a sign Concord made a mistake?”
“Elsa’s committed to playing another year for Gothenburg. It means she’ll be another year stronger and better when she joins Concord.” If she comes. Sophie keeps the thought off her face. Elsa will come. Next year. All Sophie has to do is prove Concord is a team worth being a part of.
“The In the Nest special on your apartment has already come out. What will you do without a roommate? Do you think it was premature to rent an apartment before Nyberg signed with the team?”
“I moved into an apartment for me. It was the next logical step. Obviously, I would’ve enjoyed having Elsa for a roommate, but I’ll manage on my own.”
She’s gotten used to it over the years.
After the last of her interviews, Sophie plops down on her couch with a pint of vanilla frozen yogurt. She pops the lid as she calls Dima and puts the phone on speaker.
Dmitri Ivanov was the first overall pick at the 2010 draft, selected by the Boston Barons. When Sophie was selected last by the Concord Condors in the next year, the NAHL tried to create a rivalry. A lockout led to them debuting in the same season, and the League hoped to use them to draw attention after an entire year without hockey.
She and Dima chose not to follow the NAHL’s narrative. They’re competitors on the ice, but off it they’re friends. She trusts him enough to ask, “What if Elsa never comes?” voicing doubts she refuses to even share with Mary Beth.
“Then you play good hockey, same as if she is here.”
She scowls at her phone even though Dima can’t see her. She wants to wallow, not be practical. “I wanted to play good hockey with Elsa. She switched to left wing after we played against each other in Zurich so we could play on a line together one day. I thought it meant something.”
She’s whining and she’d be embarrassed by it except Dima’s already seen her at her worst. Last year, after he won the Clayton, the trophy for the best rookie, he had a front row seat to the tantrum she threw in her hotel room. She was supposed to be the best. Her dad always told her growing up, if you’re not the best then you don’t get to play. She was afraid being the runner-up meant everyone was right, she deserved to be the last pick of the draft. She was afraid it meant the League wouldn’t invite her back and it would close its doors to all women.
A few days later, she selected Elsa fifth overall.
Dima tsks at her. “For you, go to States is easy. Short flight, parents can visit and call. Is hard for me. Is hard for Nyberg.”
“Oh.” Guilty, she stares at her frozen yogurt. Elsa even told her she was staying because Concord is too far away, but Sophie didn’t understand. It is easy for her family to fly out for her games. Last year, her parents came to her first three games. This year they’ll be at the home opener. She’s never asked Dima what it’s like for his family to be so far away. Yaroslavl and Boston aren’t exactly close.
Not for the first time, she thinks he got the short end of the friendship stick.
“I should let you be with your family, then.”
“Can talk for little bit. Hiding from Mama.”
“What did you do?”
Dima squawks, offended she thinks he’s done something wrong, but launches into a story about trying to smuggle a dog into his house without his mom noticing.
Training camp is around the corner when Sophie’s mom calls.
“Are you sure it’s not too late for you cancel your lease?” she asks.
It’s the same thing she’s asked, in different ways, through four phone calls and six text messages. Sophie bites back her sigh. “I’m sure.”
“Ronnie and Amber would open their house up to you again. And you liked spending time with their kids.”
“The Wilcoxes were very nice.” Living with them her first year had been important, a safety net to fall back on when the season seemed like too much for her to handle. But she’s in her second year in the NAHL, and she’s an adult. It’s time for her to have her own apartment even if she doesn’t have a roommate.
“I worry about you.”
And here they go again. Sophie’s almost relieved when her dad takes the phone. Then he opens his mouth. “Nyberg was a waste of a high draft pick.”
Should they have picked her in the last round like me? There’s no risk there. “She deserved to be picked high. She’s hardly the first player to take an extra year. Guys do it all the time to play another year in college or even finish out their degree. And European players rarely come over in their first year.”
“She should’ve been more grateful for the opportunity Concord gave her.”
Now her dad sounds like Lenny Dernier. His show Rinkside is on The National Sports Network. Growing up, she watched it religiously, soaking up everything he said like his words held the path to the NAHL for her. Of course, if Dernier had his way, Sophie never would’ve stepped foot on NAHL ice. He’s what people like to call an old school hockey personality as if age is an excuse to constantly deride anyone who isn’t a good Canadian boy.
“You mother says you’re moping.”
“I’m not.”
“You can’t link your happiness to other people. They’ll always let you down.”
“Pierre!” Her mom’s voice is loud enough to be heard through the phone. A moment later, she’s snatched the phone back. “Don’t listen to your father, sweetie. People are important.”
“Hockey is important,” her dad says.
“Maybe having your own apartment will be a blessing in disguise,” her mom continues, talking louder as if she can drown out her husband. “Maybe you’ll meet a nice boy. There are nice boys in Concord, aren’t there?”
“Ugh,” Sophie says.
The day before training camp starts, Merlin invites her over for dinner with him and his girlfriend. Marissa answers the door in teal scrubs with an oversized Condors sweatshirt thrown over the top. She smiles as she ushers Sophie inside.
“You brought me flowers?” she asks as she takes the bouquet. “You didn’t need to.”
“I’m not old enough for wine.” Sophie takes her shoes off by the door and sets them against the wall. There aren’t an
y other shoes there. Maybe Marissa has a shoe closet? She looks up for help, but Marissa’s already halfway to the kitchen, waving her flowers.
“Jeffrey, your teammate brought me flowers. How come you never get me flowers?”
“I told you, as soon as we have a house, I will buy you a garden so the flowers won’t die.”
“Mmm, sweet.” Marissa bops him on the nose with the bouquet. “But bullshit.”
Merlin shrugs. “Worth a try.” He waves a wooden spoon at Sophie in greeting. “How’s the plant I sent you? Is it still alive?”
“It’s a fake plant.”
“Which would make it doubly sad if it was dead.” Merlin flashes her a smile as he opens the cabinet to the left of the stove. “Do you want coffee? Tea? Wine?” He goes up on his tiptoes to reach the top shelf. It’s full of silly coffee mugs. One of them is red with Elmo’s face on it. Another has a toucan handle.
Is this what her apartment is missing? Weird mugs?
Merlin waves his hand. “Drink?”
“Water’s good. Sorry.” She stares for another moment before she gives in. “Is that a toucan?”
Merlin raises his eyes to the ceiling as Marissa laughs. She links her arm through Merlin’s. “Jeff bought it for me on our first vacation.”
“You were staring at it! I thought you liked it.”
“It’s a phallic bird thing.” Marissa laughs as she plucks the mug from its hiding place. “But it’s ours. I think I’ll have tea with dinner.”
“Seriously?” Merlin groans and tries to snatch the mug.
Marissa grins as she dances away from him and to the pantry. “Sophie, has Jeffrey told you how we met?”
“We mostly talk about hockey.”
“This relates to hockey. I was doing an internship at UMass Memorial when this dumbass kid limps into the ER. He and his teammates were doing flips on a trampoline and he fell off and sprained his ankle. He thought his coach wouldn’t find out if he went to the hospital instead of his team trainer.”
“Coach found out,” Merlin says, picking up the story. “He was pissed but I met Marissa so it was worth it.”
“Aw.” Marissa flashes her boyfriend a smile.
Sophie feels a pang of jealousy as she watches the easy way they move around each other in the kitchen as they finish dinner. They tell stories, started by one of them and finished by the other. This is what Sophie could’ve had this season. Well, not exactly, because she and Elsa would be roommates, but she’d have someone to come home to and talk to, someone to share inside jokes with.
The third time Merlin catches Marissa stroking the toucan, he groans. “Okay, you win.”
She smirks as she hands the mug to him. He wraps his hands around the mug part, careful not to touch the handle as he takes a drink of her tea.
“You’re welcome to come over whenever,” Marissa says as she takes the chicken out of the oven.
“You have to be more specific in your invitation,” Merlin says. “Sophie’s Canadian. She doesn’t like to impose.”
Sophie, who was about to politely decline, scowls at him.
“At least once a week then,” Marissa declares. “The shine of having an apartment to yourself wears off pretty quickly. And if you ever want girl time, we can kick Jeff out and binge watch The Bachelor and eat cupcakes.”
It sounds…nice. Well, she doesn’t care much for The Bachelor and kicking Merlin out of his own apartment seems rude, but she wouldn’t mind having people to hang out with. Hockey hasn’t given her many opportunities to spend time with other women.
“We can do dinner at my place too,” Sophie offers.
“I dunno, your TV is pretty small.”
Merlin’s smirk turns into a yelp when she kicks him under the table. She smiles sweetly at him. Marissa holds her hand up for a high five.
Chapter Three
DESPITE HAVING AN entire year in the League under her belt, Sophie’s as nervous for the start of training camp this season as she was last. Coach Butler’s personal philosophy is no one walks into camp on the team. Not Matty who has worn the C for them the past few seasons or X who has been with the team since its inception.
And if they don’t have a guarantee, Sophie certainly doesn’t.
Even letters are stripped away for training camp. Everyone knows Matty will wear the C once preseason begins, and they’ll still treat him as the leader he is, but Coach Butler doesn’t want anyone feeling safe. He thinks it leads to complacency.
It’s why no one wears their numbers during training camp either. She steps into the locker room for the first day, and all the stalls have a piece of tape at the top with their last name and then their first name in alphabetical order. Like last year, she’s between Faulkner, Kevin and Garfield, Luke.
Unlike last year, her clothes already hang in her stall. She changes into her T-shirt and mesh shorts and hits the weight room. She’s the only one here so she hops on her favorite bike, puts her headphones on, and warms up. After the bike, she stretches and rolls out on the foam roller. By the time she grabs one of the elastic bands, someone else has joined her.
Zinger waves and pushes his sweatband higher on his forehead. It makes his bangs stick up, and she can’t help her laugh as she steps into the band. Then she squats and steps sideways, the band providing resistance as she moves.
“Gotta look good to do good, he tells her. Jiāháo Zhang was one of her teammates last year. Unlike most hockey players who have a first name, last name, and nickname, he has his Taiwanese names, his English name, and his hockey name. To his family he’s Jiāháo, to the media, he’s Justin, and to the team, he’s Zinger. She asked him once why he picked Justin as what he wanted to be called when he moved to the States from Taipei. He deflected, badly, but one night when they were at a bar during karaoke, he did a full set of NSYNC’s greatest hits and drunkenly confessed to her his love of Justin Timberlake. It’s a secret she’s kept for him. His love of Timberlake, not his love of karaoke. Merlin filmed the whole thing and periodically busts it out on plane flights when he’s bored.
“This is looking good?” Sophie gives him an obvious once-over and shakes her head.
He flashes her a double thumbs-up and claims an elliptical. They work out in silence until Zinger joins her near the free weights. He lies down on his back and stretches his leg across his body. “Will you help? I’ll do you after.”
She places one hand on his right hip and her other hand on his right knee and pushes down. He groans before he takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. When he relaxes, she pushes more and holds to a count of thirty. He switches sides and they repeat the process. Then it’s her turn to lie down.
Some more of their teammates join them. X goes straight for the stretch-bands. Kevlar and Theo each hop on an elliptical and immediately race each other.
“Save some of it for camp, eh?” Sophie calls out.
“Eh.” Theo cracks up as if he’s never heard a Canadian speak before.
Sophie and Kevlar flip him off at the same time.
Matty’s in charge of the first day of training camp, and he takes them on their customary historic run through downtown Concord. Afterward, they lay out exercise mats in the parking lot and Matty puts them through a series of core and general strength exercises.
This year, Sophie sets her mat up next to her captain’s. It means they’re side by side when they begin the plank challenge. It’s easier to focus without Kevlar and Theo making a fuss next to her. It helps too to have Matty in her sights.
He was her direct competition last year, and they’re shaping up for a repeat. Sophie’s stomach quivers, and her shoulders ache as they tick upwards of five minutes. Sweat pools in the small of her back and drips off her face onto her mat. Matty adjusts his position and almost slips on his own puddle of sweat.
Sophie keeps her gaze locked on Matty and breathes as deeply as she’s able. Matty trembles, from his shoulders to his toes, and she knows she won’t have to hold out much longer.
<
br /> “You’re looking tired there, Cap,” Merlin says.
“Oooh,” several of the guys chorus.
Sophie and Matty exchange an eye roll.
Matty breaks first. He drops to his mat with a grunt, and Sophie holds out for another five-count before she drops down too.
“I’m never moving again,” Sophie decides.
“Do you practice this during the summer?” Merlin pokes her shoulder.
“I only let myself watch TV if I’m planking.”
“This explains so much.” Merlin pokes her again. “Come on, shower time.”
She pushes herself to her knees and then to her feet. She adds her mat to the pile near the doors to their practice facility. They troop inside for the first shower of the day. Sophie pulls her soaked shirt over her head and tosses it in her laundry. She tosses her shorts in next.
“Woah!” Kuzy exclaims. “What are you doing?”
“Undressing for my shower.”
The locker room falls quiet, everyone looking to Matty for help. Sophie, in her spandex and a sports bra now, wraps her towel around herself. Last year, she showered in her closet-turned-locker room. This year, Ben Granlund, their equipment manager, curtained off a shower in the main locker room for her.
This is the locker room she belongs in, not banished down the hall. She doesn’t intend to ever strip down completely in front of her teammates, but if they can’t handle seeing a bit of skin, they’re the ones who have to leave, not her. She arches her eyebrows at Matty, challenging.
“You should take a shower too,” Matty tells Kuzy. “You smell like shit.”
There’s a beat of silence before Merlin shouts, “Captain’s a shit-sniffer!” and the locker room dissolves into uproarious laughter.
She slips into the main shower room and grins at the shower curtain. It’s red with the team’s condor on it, exactly what she would expect from Ben. She hangs her towel on a hook, out of the reach of the shower spray, and strips the rest of her clothes off.
She can still hear her teammates laughing at each other when she steps under the stream of water.