Sophomore Surge

by K R Collins

  The second day of training camp is even better than the first, because they’re allowed on the ice. They’re geared up by the time Coach Butler barges into the locker room. The first time she saw him, she thought he had a severe face. It hasn’t relaxed in the year she’s known him. The closest she’s seen him to happy is when they battle with another team, blood and teeth on the ice by the end of it.

  “Welcome to training camp,” Coach Butler tells them. “Yesterday, Mathers was in charge of you. Today, it’s my turn. Get ready to work.”

  Despite the serious tone he struck, everyone is all smiles as they troop up to the ice. They’re all here because they love hockey, and none of them would be here if they were afraid of work. She’s the second one on the ice after Matty, and she beams as she skates a full loop of the rink.

  “What a smile,” Theo says as she reaches the bench again. “Long dry spell?”

  She rolls her eyes and pulls him onto the ice. Kevlar trips him so he falls on his face. “Long dry spell for you maybe. You’ve forgotten how to skate.”

  Theo hauls her into a headlock and she twists out of his grasp. They play-fight until Matty skates over. He grabs Theo in a bear hug from behind which turns into them wrestling. She drifts over to where X is watching the scene unfold.

  “We have the best captain in the League,” she says.

  X takes one of his gloves off so he can put a hand to her forehead. “Did you forget everything this summer? Our captain is a loser.”

  “Yeah, but he’s our loser.”

  At the end of training camp, there’s the first round of cuts. Guys are sent back to Juniors or college or home, depending on where they are in their development. Sophie’s cooling down in the weight room when her phone buzzes. She checks the notification. Gabrielle Gagnon has been assigned to the Trois-Rivières Bobcats, Quebec’s minor league team. It isn’t surprising; goalies rarely start right away, but it means Sophie’s still the only woman in the North American Hockey League.

  Her shoulders slump and she slows down her biking until she comes to a complete stop. Then she moves to the far side of the weight room where the punching bags are set up. She tapes her hands the way Kevlar taught her and squares up against the bag.

  She isn’t allowed to fight, the League has made it very clear to her they want her gloves to stay on, but this is good stress relief. Besides, if she ever does have to fight, she wants to be prepared. Today, she locks her core and twists as she extends her arm the way Kevlar showed her. Her fist thuds against the bag. She hits it again. Then again.

  Sweat beads along her hairline. This is the opposite of cooling down, but she isn’t ready to go back to her empty apartment. The last thing she needs is a reminder of how alone she is. No Elsa, now no Gabrielle.

  “Why am I not surprised to find you here?”

  She turns to see Kevlar leaning against the lat pull-down machine. His own hands are bare which means he isn’t planning on joining her. She pulls her shirt up to wipe the sweat off her face. “I have some things to work out.”

  “We already have double and triple sessions. There’s no need to make more work for yourself.”

  “Gabrielle was assigned to Trois-Rivières.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Sophie shrugs. “It was a longshot, but I was hoping she’d make the team. I really thought I’d have another woman in the League this year.”

  Kevlar crosses his arms over his chest, making himself comfortable. “You’re the only one like you? Gee, what’s it feel like?”

  She stares at Kevlar’s hands again. They’re dark brown, a sharp contrast to her own pale ones. She flushes as she realizes how self-centered she’s been. She’s the only woman in the League, but it isn’t like it’s easy for Kevlar either. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He laughs. It’s a stupid question. He’s a hockey player. Of course he doesn’t want to talk about it. But then he unfolds his arms. “Selfishly, I wish I wasn’t alone, but part of me is glad I am. No one else needs to hear the shit I do.”

  She knows about taking shit from fans and other players and even coaches and commentators. It’s different for her than it is for him. She’s accused of being soft, of being weak, of never living up to expectations. Kevlar’s a brute when he plays too aggressively and a waste of a roster spot when he backs off. Neither of them can ever win.

  “If there were more people like you…”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “It wouldn’t stop. They would feel threatened and get louder. Reporters scoff when you say you want more women in the League. Could you imagine if I said I wanted an army of black men?”

  “No. You have too much media training. You’d put it more diplomatically.”

  “But it’s what I would mean. Right now, if someone says ‘hey, do you know that black guy who plays hockey’ then there’s a one in ten chance you’ll answer right. I want us to quit being an anomaly in this sport. I want two black players on the team to stop being headline material. It isn’t news when 75 percent of a roster is white.”

  “It should be.”

  “But we are diverse. Swedes and Danes and Norwegians, even some Finns for good measure. Northern Europe is very well represented.”

  Sophie laughs as she unwraps the tape from her hands.

  This year, Coach Butler takes them to Mount Washington for their post-training camp team-building activity. They pile onto the team bus, storing their Condors backpacks above them and fighting over who sits where.

  Most hockey players have militant superstitions which dictate where they sit on the bus or plane, what food they eat the day before and of a game, and even what clothes they wear. Sophie’s never had the luxury of being superstitious. Her play isn’t determined by a lucky sports bra or whether she eats chicken and pasta for breakfast on game day.

  She sits next to Teddy, because he doesn’t spread his thighs into her personal space. She taps his shoulder and points to where Merlin is shifting restlessly in his seat, because he’s in Row Ten and has the window seat. The guy next to him, George Cullen, keeps looking over, amused. He played for the Regina Rapids last season, and he’s here on a professional tryout contract. His hands are good, but he’s too close to forty, and his speed isn’t great.

  He seems like he’d be a good guy to have in the locker room—anyone who gives Merlin shit is okay in her book—but she’s not sure he’d be an asset on the ice.

  “We’re climbing a mountain?” Peets asks as the bus finally begins to move.

  “Not just any mountain,” Matty answers. “Mount Washington. Did you know the Summit House was one of the first tourist attractions in the United States, in 1832?”

  Merlin groans. “You and your fucking history boner.”

  “Once we reach the base of the mountain, you’ll be assigned hiking groups. We’re not losing anyone on the mountain.”

  Teddy leans in to whisper. “We’re definitely losing someone on the mountain. I’m thinking one of the new guys, but I could be persuaded to make it Theo.”

  “Still jealous about the nickname, Teddy? Don’t say it too loudly or you’ll end up at the bottom of a cuddle pile again.” Last year, Theodore Augereau was traded to their team and when he met Theodore Smith, there wasn’t even a question of who’d get to keep Theo as their nickname. Teddy made one valiant attempt, claiming Theo looked far more like a teddy bear. He didn’t win the argument, he’ll be Teddy for his entire career in Concord, and ended up in the middle of a group hug as Theo and Kevlar proved he was cuddly enough to be a Teddy.

  Sophie photographed and videoed the moment to preserve it for future mockery. Teddy, no doubt remembering, pokes her, a vicious jab to her stomach, and she has to bite back her laugh because Matty’s still talking. She pokes him back and it turns into an all-out poke war. Hopefully, Matty didn’t have anything else important to say because they stop paying attention.

  Sophie’s hiking group is Teddy, Kevlar, George Cullen, and Christian Spitzweg. Spitzweg played for Manche
ster last season, and he’s supposedly twenty, but he has enough baby fat lingering on his face to make him look closer to twelve. His eyes are bright blue and his hair is so blond and fair, it reminders her of a dandelion. She’s afraid if the wind picks up, all his hair will blow away.

  “I’m Sophie.” She introduces herself as she adjusts the straps on her backpack. She has two water bottles and some food, but most of her backpack is taken up by clothes. They were warned the temperature at the base of the mountain varies drastically from the temperature at the top, and she wanted to be prepared.

  The kid laughs. “Uh, yeah. Peets talked about you a lot last year. Before he was called up.”

  “We call him Marinara Man,” Kevlar says. “He face-planted in his spaghetti during preseason. Did he tell you the story?”

  “For some reason, he forgot.” Spitzweg grins, lighting up in a way which means he’ll cheerfully give Peets shit about it next time they see each other.

  “It happens every year,” Cullen says. “One year, the rookie fell asleep in his sushi and got wasabi up his nose.”

  Teddy flinches in sympathy, but Cullen only shrugs with the air of someone who has seen everything.

  There isn’t anything to do on the hike except walk up a mountain and talk to each other. Sophie has the lead, which means she has to strain to hear what the guys are talking about.

  “Oh man, we did it one time in Juniors,” Kevlar says, responding to Cullen’s story. “We were stuck on the bus for eight hours and we were bored so we broke into the med kit. We slapped some Icy Hot on our junk. Coach was pissed when we woke him up with all our yelling.”

  “We did it too,” Teddy says. “Well, because I’m not an idiot, I put it on my thigh. Duke put it on his balls. I’ve never heard a guy’s voice hit a note so high after puberty.”

  Sophie twists to look back at the line of guys. Spitzweg looks to her, horrified, as if he’s waiting for her to share her own version of this story.

  “You’re still an idiot,” she tells Teddy. “But apparently every boy who’s ever played hockey is an idiot.”

  “It’s a natural curiosity.”

  “You see something and wonder what it would feel like on your dick?”

  Kevlar shrugs but nods.

  “This is why we need more women in hockey.”

  “In Germany, we don’t have sex with Icy Hot,” Spitzweg says.

  “It’s not a sex thing!” Teddy objects.

  “Maybe for Canadians it is,” Cullen says.

  “Hey!”

  The two of them squabble over whether it’s America or Canada with the Icy Hot fetish. Sophie laughs to herself as they wind their way up the mountain. Kevlar speeds up so they’re side by side. “Look what you’ve done. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

  “I’m doing my part to disrupt border relations.”

  When they stop for a snack break, Teddy takes his right sneaker off and frowns as he rubs his heel.

  “Blistering?” Kevlar asks. He’s in sturdy boots, the laces done up tight. Sophie thought about boots, but she doesn’t have any broken in and didn’t want to risk ruining her feet with preseason around the corner.

  “I have Band-Aids in my bag if you want one.” Sophie tosses her backpack to her goalie.

  He catches it and opens the front pocket. A tampon falls out. The rest of the guys stop eating and stare as the little white cylinder rolls until it’s stopped by a rock. Teddy picks it up and puts it back in her bag and grabs a Band-Aid.

  “I’m not a nature guy,” Teddy grumbles as he opens the Band-Aid. “Can we go down instead?” He looks longingly back at where they’ve been.

  “Sounds like a question for Alyssa, not us.” Kevlar laughs as Teddy flips him off.

  “Snack time’s over,” Sophie decides. She stands up and brushes the granola bar crumbs off her clothes. “If the next group catches up to us, Merlin will never let us live it down.”

  Chapter Four

  THEY RETURN FROM their team-building trip. The next day, Sophie’s called into Coach Butler’s office. Mr. Wilcox and Mr. Pauling are both there. Mary Beth is too, her phone out because she’s always working. Sophie glances around the room and wonders what’s gone wrong.

  She was brought to Concord to give the team a spark, but more often than not, she finds herself polishing Concord’s image. When Michael Hayes couldn’t give a half-decent interview to save his life, she was trotted out in a nice blouse with her hair curled to talk about what a great organization Concord is. When they missed the playoffs for the seventeenth straight year, the spotlight was on the final stretch of her rookie season and whether she’d break a hundred points or not. And, when Elsa Nyberg chose to stay in Sweden for another year, it was up to Sophie to smooth everything over.

  She’s shiny, she’s distracting, and as much as she hates being paraded around, it’s what she has to do in order to play hockey.

  The team had their retreat this weekend which means they were supervised. If something bad happened, she should already know about it.

  “We’re giving you an A this season,” Mr. Pauling says.

  She stops imagining worst-case scenarios, but it’s a sharp turn to make. Alternate captain? A year and a half ago, she didn’t know if there was a place for women in the North American Hockey League. Only a few months ago, she didn’t know if Concord would invite her back to camp. And now they want to give her a letter?

  She looks to Coach Butler for confirmation.

  He’s frowning, but since Mr. Pauling and Mr. Wilcox stand behind him, they can’t see. “You’ll wear it during the preseason. If you prove yourself worthy of it, we’ll talk about you wearing it during the regular season.”

  Coach Butler has never been as openly supportive of her as Mr. Pauling, but it’s because he knows how well she responds to challenges. If the preseason is her opportunity to prove she deserves the A, she’ll damn well prove it.

  She straightens her shoulders. “I won’t let you down.”

  “You haven’t so far.” Mr. Pauling’s eyes are warm as he smiles at her.

  “We’re not making a fuss about it,” Coach Butler says. Mary Beth’s gaze cuts to him, but he doesn’t notice. “It’ll be on your jersey for your first game. We don’t need a circus to start the season.”

  “Of course not.” She’s never asked to be singled out the way she is. All she’s ever wanted was to play hockey. It’s everyone else who makes a big deal out of it.

  Mary Beth slides her phone into her pocket. “Once we’re done here, you and I will prep on how to handle your postgame. As soon as people notice, there will be questions.”

  With no announcement, the first time her teammates see the A on her jersey is in the locker room before their game against Seattle. She’s nervous for their reactions. She learned to ignore the media out of self-preservation. She cares what the people in this room think. She’s only in her second year in the NAHL, and, because of the cuts, she’s still the youngest.

  Last year, after they were eliminated from playoff contention, the team rallied around her. With no postseason to look forward to, they focused on helping her win the Maddow Trophy. This team supports her, and she’s grown more comfortable around them, but the letter is a big step. In her experience, her teammates like her best when she’s in the background, giving them assists, the spotlight trained elsewhere.

  “Holy shit!” Merlin exclaims when he spots the A ironed onto her jersey. “About fucking time!”

  Sophie’s shocked enough to actually look surprised.

  “You bossed me all over the ice last season. It’s not like we didn’t know it was coming.”

  She smiles, pleased with his acceptance. To cover it up, she says, “I wouldn’t have to tell you what to do if you weren’t so clueless.”

  “Matty, Sophie’s being mean to me,” he whines.

  Matty is sitting in his stall, in his game day suit because he isn’t playing in this game. It’s normal for players to sit out preseason games
. There are too many in the squad for them all to play in every one, but she finds it strange their captain isn’t playing in their first home appearance of the season.

  “Take it up with your alternate captains, I have today off.”

  Merlin turns back to Sophie. “Sophie, Sophie’s being mean to me.”

  She laughs and throws a balled-up piece of tape at his head. “Focus, we have a game to play.”

  “It’s Seattle,” he huffs but he changes into his gear.

  The Seattle Seafarers were added to the League in the same year as Concord in order to keep the Eastern and Western Conferences balanced. Somehow, they’ve struggled even more than Concord, selecting in the top three of the draft for year after year. Despite all the high draft picks, they’ve never managed to put together a winning team. They draft high then, a couple of years later, trade those top picks for more picks which they eventually trade.

  Concord’s been trapped in a similar cycle, but Sophie is determined to be the draft pick who will make the difference in Concord. And tonight, with an A on her chest and facing off against last year’s first overall pick, she’s going to prove it.

  With Matty out, Sophie is the first line center tonight. Her name is announced as part of the starting lineup, and she raises a hand to acknowledge the fans as the entire stadium rises to their feet for her. The crowd is a sea of red, everyone in the vibrant home jerseys. She drops her hand back down as Zinger’s announced. The crowd cheers for him too but they aren’t as loud as they were for her.

  Next, they bring out the anthem singer. Because it’s a Concord-Seattle matchup, Carolyne only sings the American anthem. Sophie hums O, Canada to herself as she skates to the bench for one last word from Coach Butler.

  “I want you hard on the puck and even harder on the body,” he says. “This is your first statement of the year. Make it a good one.”

  The crowd swells with noise. A glance at the Jumbotron shows the camera’s zoomed in on Sophie’s A. Coach Butler taps the letter with his pointer finger, and the fans grow even louder. She knows what he’s telling her. Earn it.