Just One of the Boys

by Lexie Syrah

  Mom prances into the room, distastefully glancing over all my hockey and fantasy movie posters before settling her gaze on Madison. “Are you coming, darling?”

  Madison nods and Mom’s eyes light up. “Then of course you’ll come, Xander! Keep the poor girl company.”

  Ahh, my mother’s never-ending mission with Xander: to set him up with a girlfriend. So far it’s proved a fruitless undertaking.

  “Mother, I’m ill.” Xander coughs meekly.

  Mom rolls her eyes and sighs, toddling out to busy herself before she drags me to my own personal hell. As long as I’m there to twirl at the promotional event today for her Ice Ball, she doesn’t care if Xander comes or not.

  Which is a good thing, because if the real Alexander Bell—broken leg and all— showed up in front of the Falcons, things could get awkward fast.

  When I agreed to do Ma’s figure skating Ice Ball in the spring, I thought it was the only way I could stay on the ice. Now my two worlds are colliding, and I can only hope that Madison’s disguise can hide Al from the Falcons. Because today, the Royal Chicago Figure Skating Co. is meeting up with the Chicago Falcons to promote their 3rd Annual Charity Ice Ball. It’s a huge event, and apparently this is their great idea to promote it.

  And it might just ruin my entire life.

  “Okay,” Madison says, dabbing my cheeks with yet another layer of blush. “We’ve made you look unrecognizable from Al….but you’re also going to have to act unrecognizable.”

  “What if I talk like this?” I say through a forced smile, raising my voice ten octaves.

  Xander cringes. “Less demon My Little Pony and more Disney princess.”

  I huff. How did acting like a boy become easier than being a girl?

  “Just be aware of the way you move,” Madison says. “Sway your hips, don’t clomp around like you usually do.”

  “I’ll be on skates!”

  “Still.” She eyes me with concern through her thick curtain of midnight black hair. “You know the drill. For the first part, you’ll be teaching the hockey boys a simple figure skating routine.”

  My stomach twists sickeningly. Any other time, I would pay to see the boys attempt a lunge or bunny hop. Now, the thought makes me want to throw up.

  “And the second half,” Madison said, eyeing Xander, “is where the boys teach the figure skaters some basic hockey moves.”

  “So what? That’ll be easy.” I shrug. Despite my nerves, I really wish I’d eaten something before Madison covered my lips in this bright sticky chemical.

  “But that’s it.” Xander leans forward. “It shouldn’t be easy. Not for Alice Bell, the figure skater. You’ll blow the whole thing if you go out there and skate the same way Al does!”

  “Oh…” I say, finally understanding what they mean. “I can suck at hockey for a night. I can do that.”

  “Can you?” Madison says, crossing her arms. “You’re the most competitive person I’ve ever met.”

  My phone buzzes in my hand, and saves me from their utter lack of faith. Hayden’s face flashes on it, and I have to will my heart to be still. I drift to the corner of my bedroom before answering.

  “Hey Al,” Hayden says, “I’m just about to head down to the rink. Want me to grab you on the way?”

  Well, what do you know: my house isn’t on the way to the rink. Dare I say we’re becoming friends? My excitement will have to wait until I hang up the phone.

  “Hey…uh, I’m not gonna make it…” Obviously Al can’t be there at the same time as Alice Bell, figure skater. I’d much rather have Coach Z be pissy at me than endure my mother’s fury for skipping out on this.

  “Are you kidding me?” Hayden says. “You’re going to make me suffer through figure skating alone?”

  “COUGH COUGH COUGGGGGH!” I hack away, doing a much better sick impression than my so-called actor brother.

  “Oh damn. That’s nasty.” Hayden laughs on the other end. “Rest up for the next game. See ya.”

  I hang up the phone, pretty pleased with myself. But when I turn around, Xander is giving me a look that’s equal parts angry and terrified.

  “Wha—”

  “Who was that?” he says.

  “Hayden, from the Falc—”

  “Why are you smiling like that?”

  I feel the muscles in my face fall immediately. I guess I had been smiling.

  “Do you always smile like that when you talk to boys on the team?” Xander snaps. He sounds legitimately pissed. I feel my stomach drop and my veins go cold. “Alice, you’re supposed to be me out there. Not you, okay? Everything you do affects my whole life.”

  My blood starts to simmer, boiling away the cold and nervousness. Xander’s being such a dick! Here I am, helping him, and he’s getting on me about one stupid phone call?

  I walk to the door. “Come on, Madison. We should go.”

  Xander crosses his arms and looks out the window. I can tell he wants to storm away, but with his bum leg, it would take too long. I want to tell him he’s being an asshole, but that would involve talking, which is not something I do, well, ever. I just want things to go back to normal, before I found out Xander was keeping some secret from me.

  I grab my bag and huff out of the room. Madison lingers a moment, saying something too low for me to hear before scurrying after me.

  I just have to get through one horrible night of figure skating, then tomorrow I can finally put all this anger where it belongs.

  In the game.

  …

  I step onto the ice feeling completely naked and exposed. I need my pads, my jersey, my stick…not this glittery white dress that could potentially blind someone if they’re caught in the wrong light. Although, I bet I’ll look pretty sweet when I perform a backspin.

  The arena glows with hot white light and bodies run around like frantic insects, setting up cameras and microphones. I watch their sneakered feet shuffle across the ice and bite the inside of my lip. I spot Ma standing with the two other figure skaters involved in the promotional event, Harmony and Liv.

  They seem so natural in their tiny orange and blue dresses, with their hair pulled back in tight buns, and their eyes bright and clear, not bloodshot red from too much mascara and eyelash glue.

  I’ve never wanted a helmet so badly.

  Just as I skate over, they burst into a fit of whispers and giggle. I look over my shoulder to see the Falcons filing onto the ice. An annoyed breath rushes out of my nostrils.

  Girls.

  The Falcons aren’t wearing their full uniforms for this, just their jerseys and jeans. And what a bunch of losers! They look like they’ve all prepped to be camera-ready by styling their hair. I laugh a little to myself, imagining them scrambling to borrow Daniel Sacachelli’s hair gel. God knows he has enough to spare. I swear that boy has fifty tubes in his locker.

  Harmony lets out a particularly high-pitched giggle and grips my arm like a lifeline. “Oh my gawd. Number 9 is so dreamy, and he’s staring RIGHT at me.”

  I shake her off. Number 9. Stupid, dumb, idiot Hayden. He’s here for charity, not to ogle Harmony in her orange sparkly dress. I glare at him—but end up making eye contact instead. He’s not staring at Harmony. He’s staring at me.

  I swallow and try to look away—but another part of me just really needs to look at him right now. His hair looks particularly wavy tonight, falling a little bit in his face. His jersey looks a tad big for him without all his pads on. He flashes a white grin.

  I glare down at Harmony. “Number 9 is a total jerk.”

  Harmony doesn’t seem to hear me; she’s fixated on him. I huff and turn to the organizer, who’s breaking us into groups. Lord, help me if I’m with Tremblay. Anyone but Hayden, anyone but Hayden…

  …

  I’m with Hayden. This is terrible. The worst. Out of everyone on the Falcons, I’ve definitely spent the most time with him. What if he recognizes me?

  The organizers split the hockey players into even groups between
Harmony, Liv, and me. We’re supposed to teach them a simple routine, and then be judged by a panel. As little as I care about these expert judges (Ma and a few other ladies on the charity board), they’ve made this a competition and I hate to lose. Ever.

  I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to settle my unease. Between the cameras, hiding my identity, and Hayden skating over to me with that small smile, I’ve got choices about what to stress about.

  My boys stand in an awkward huddle, waiting for me to instruct them. But I’m frozen, staring at Hayden who shifts from skate to skate. Suddenly, the lights seem unbearably bright and sweat pearls on the back of my neck. They’re just staring at me, like children.

  I skate back and forth in front of them for a couple moments, thinking about exactly what I’m going to say, and how I’m going to say it. On the other end of the rink, I already hear Harmony and Liv chirping on about pointed toes and graceful hand movements.

  I can put it off no longer. “Hi guys! I’m Alice Bell! Today I’ll be teaching you how to skate!” Okay, was that demon-pony or princess-like? Judging by their faces, I think I was verging on the side of demon.

  “Okay, so you all know how to skate, but I’m going to show you…uh, how to figure skate.” I skim over their faces to avoid eye contact. No one’s yelling out, ‘You’re Al Bell!’ so I guess I’m okay.

  Liv and Harmony’s groups are already practicing. I really have to get going.

  I break into a quick explanation of the moves and routine we’re going to do. When I finish, no one moves. I clap my hands. “Okay, so go!”

  Half of them are looking at me with glazed eyes, and the other half stare at Harmony and Liv in their sparkling dresses. A small victorious piece of me is glad to say Hayden’s in the former camp.

  A part of me wants to get right up in their faces and remind them that I’m in a sparkly dress, too. But that would be weird, on so many levels. Regardless, my teaching method isn’t working. This is my team and I know how they work.

  I stare at them through my thick fake lashes and lower my voice ever so slightly: “Are you going to listen?” I bellow. “Right now, we’re going to focus and learn to spin! Sacachelli is over there gliding flawlessly, and I know you’d all hate to be shown up by him!”

  Their bodies snap to attention, and I get to work teaching them the routine. Surprisingly, they’re better than I thought they’d be. Tyler Evans in the best, naturally gliding circles around the other boys. But I’ve got one rotten member of the group, one person who is standing in the back, one person who thinks he’s too cool for all this. As much as I want to avoid Hayden as Alice, he’s bringing down my whole team.

  “Hey Hayden,” I say, skating up, “how’s your spiral coming?”

  He looks over at me, smirking. “Ahh, the surly figure skater. Is this your revenge for having to share the ice with me?”

  I cross my arms. I’d almost completely forgotten about that night. “You’re too worried about falling forward. If you actually lift your back leg up, it’ll counter balance. Here, let me show you.”

  I bend forward, sliding over the ice on one leg with my other leg straight out behind me. I turn back to him with a flourished twirl, just so he can see how pretty my skirt is when it spins.

  He shakes his head but actually gives it a go. He still hardly brings his back leg up, but his back posture is admirable. He laughs as he loses his balance. “God, I wish your brother were here. That’d be hilarious to watch.”

  “Xander?” I say with a laugh. “He always liked figure skating better than me.”

  Hayden grins. “Al likes figure skating and yet he completely bailed on today! Do me a favor and kill him for me.”

  I give a meek smile and turn away. There I go again, saying things I shouldn’t. Xander would kill me if he knew I told one of his future teammates what a figure skating buff he is.

  Thankfully the TV crew saves me from my guilt. It’s time for judging.

  My team performs our routine for the judges and cameras, pulling a reasonable 7/10. Not terrible, considering Tyler and I carried the whole team. But Liv’s team scores a 9, and Harmony and Sacachelli clean up with a full 10/10.

  Now we switch and it’s time for the boys to teach me hockey. I could totally redeem our miserable score in this round. I skate over to the sideboards and take a stick from the trainer. With dismay, I realize it’s nearly a foot too short for me. Just because Harmon-o and Livvy are five-foot-nothing doesn’t mean I should have to suffer along with them.

  “AL-ICE,” Madison says, somehow managing to turn my name into two syllables. She stands on the bench, dark eyes shooting daggers at me.

  “What?”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  I skate right up to her. “Come on.”

  “I saw the way you were looking at that score board. None of that matters. What matters is Al.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I couldn’t score anything with this.” I hold up the cheap hockey stick they gave me, more closely resembling a twig than real sports equipment.

  She narrows her eyes and I wink at her as I skate back to my teammates.

  We start out of with a basic drill: weaving the puck between some orange cones on the ice. Child’s play. Harmony and Liv barely make it through the first two cones.

  “Looks like you’ve finally figured out how to hold a stick.” Hayden skates up behind me.

  “Huh?” Shoot, I really shouldn’t know how to hold a stick. I fiddle with the twig in my hands. “Uh, my brother gave me some pointers earlier.”

  “Let’s hope it helps. You’re up.”

  Even with this useless stick, I’m able to keep the puck perfectly balanced on my blade. I maneuver through the first two cones with ease. I chance a glance up, to see Madison slowly shaking her head back and forth. With a sigh, I “lose control” of the puck after my third cone.

  “Whoops,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and go back to my team. We regroup and they give me some pointers, although I think some of their helpful stickhandling tips are just an excuse to get close against me. Gross. There’s not much time to think. Minutes later, we’re on to the next activity.

  Task two: Shooting a puck from the blue line. I shoot and intentionally miss by a mile.

  And I die a million deaths inside.

  And a million more when somehow Harmony shoots, falling face first on the ice, but her puck makes it in the net.

  Task three: Winning a faceoff. I know the boys are told to go easy on us, and when I’m face to face with Sacachelli’s grinning mug, he leaves me the largest gap ever to take it. But I let it go. I let goddamn Sacachelli win a faceoff against me.

  And I die another million deaths.

  And a million more when Hayden lets Liv “win” her faceoff.

  Task four: Two on two for a five minute “game”. The only rule is the figure skater either has to assist the goal, or score it herself. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

  As everyone gets organized, Hayden skates over to me. “Hey Alice, could I give you some advice?”

  “No,” I say automatically. Shit—that’s Al’s response. Alice is supposed to be a sweet hockey-naive figure skater. I shake my eight pounds of hair and put on my sweetest smile. “Uh, yeah sure.”

  “Okay.” He smiles shyly and comes up behind me, lacing his arms over mine, the way the other guys did when they were trying to give me “advice.” But this doesn’t feel wrong the way it did with my other teammates. This feels…different. Breath catches in my throat. The murmurs of conversations become background noise to the soft rise and fall of his breath. His hands — so much bigger than mine — rest softly over my fingers. His chin grazes my jaw, scratchy with his ever so slight shadow.

  “You’re holding the stick with a death grip. Relax,” he says. I force myself to remain utterly still, so as not to turn my face to his. “You won’t drop it. I promise.”

  I loosen my grip. I guess I have been holding
the stick really hard. But with him pressed up against me, I’m as far from relaxed as I’ve been all day. He straightens and grabs the stick from me. “You’re way too tall for this stick. Gimmie a sec.”

  Hayden darts off the ice, into the locker room, returning moments later. “This is your brother’s. It’ll work better.”

  “Thanks,” I say and snatch my stick from him. With it back in my hand, I feel whole again.

  “You’re really great at that figure skating stuff,” Hayden says, not meeting my gaze. “My brother and I were in classes when we were really little. My parents thought it would help us manoeuvre in hockey. The home videos are pretty funny…” He trails off.

  My breath catches in my throat. I live for moments like these, these moments when his barriers fall away, even for a moment. “My mom did the same thing with Xander and me. She didn’t want me to go to hockey practice with him, but I convinced her the more I skated, the better figure skater I would be. Backfired for her though—” I catch myself. “For me. I hated hockey. Obviously.”

  He nudges me with his shoulder. “Who knows, maybe I can awaken your love of the game again.”

  I stare dumbly at him, and I wouldn’t doubt that a trail of drool dribbles down my chin.

  “Hey, number 9! Girl!” One of the camera guys yells at us, and we both turn. “Get up here, it’s show time.”

  …

  Hayden and I get into position on the ice, and I glare fiercely at our competition. Sacachelli wiggles his brick-shaped eyebrows, and Harmony flounces about, using her stick as a stripper-pole prop. Heat rises in me. They’ve got a total score of eleven so far, meaning they’ll be the champions of this whole stupid publicity stunt. We have a whopping six points, meaning we’d have to score six goals in five minutes to win.

  Even with the goal difference, it should be a cakewalk. Two on two with Hayden as my partner and my stick back? Easy. Except I promised Madison and Xander I would bomb the hockey stuff.

  Harmony and I square off at centre ice for the faceoff. For the first time today, I feel like I’m where I belong. Sacachelli is my only real obstacle, and he’s obviously distracted by Harmony’s fancy dress. And when I look over at Hayden, my stomach twists at the thought of letting him down. Especially after he showed me how to hold a hockey stick. What would one goal hurt? Really?