Just One of the Boys

by Lexie Syrah

  Just so I don’t embarrass my team.

  I briefly catch Madison’s gaze from the bench. She shakes her head more frantically now, so I avert my eyes.

  Just one goal.

  The whistle blows and I snatch the puck away from Harmony before she can blink.

  I skate forward and get into position in front of the net. Hayden’s already there, but I don’t even bother to pass it. I slapshot it into the net. Their goalie’s eyes go wide but I bat my pine-needle lashes and shrug. “Lucky shot!”

  Next round, I pass to Hayden after deking around Harmony. It’s not my fault that he can score from basically anywhere.

  But we don’t stop. Hayden and I score goal after goal. I can’t help myself: it’s like breathing. Nothing exists except for the puck, the net, and Hayden.

  Suddenly, a sharp whistle breaks the air and I shoot my eyes to the whiteboard where Ma keeps score.

  Uh oh.

  We didn’t get six goals.

  We got nine.

  Hayden throws his stick on the ice with a familiar holler and opens his arms wide toward me. I should skate away as fast as I can, but I fall against him, matching his own elated grin.

  “How’d you get so good?” he says.

  “Guess you made me fall in love with hockey again,” I say with a forced laughed.

  Hayden flashes that grin the TV cameras have been fixated on all afternoon. “Hockey must run in the family.”

  Hayden keeps his arm around my waist as the TV crew comes over to interview us about the upcoming Ice Ball and the supposed fun we had today. But I can’t concentrate on their questions, not with Hayden’s hand resting so perfectly on the curve of my body. One by one, unwanted thoughts invade my head.

  I’ve ruined it. There’s no way Hayden didn’t recognize the pass I gave him was the one he’d rehearsed not two days ago with Al. And what will Xander think when he sees the footage?

  Hayden takes the reins for most of the interview, and thankfully Ma pulls me away so she can get some shots of the figure skaters. I don’t miss that Hayden’s gaze follows me as I skate away…

  Freaking creepy.

  Once the event ends, I head as fast as I can out of the arena. Mom’s heading straight to the office, so I’m on my own, which is perfect because I need to be fast. If Hayden is going to call me out, I need to be prepared.

  I throw on my black hoodie and sling my figure skating bag over my shoulder. The exit door is just within my reach when I hear a loud “Hey!” from behind me. I stop automatically and look back to see Daniel Sacachelli. He’s changed and his black hair is slick and wet from the shower. He saunters toward me and, for some reason, I stay rooted to the floor. As if standing perfectly still will make him not see me.

  He gets a little too close and smiles. “Allie, right?”

  “Alice,” I murmur, surprised at how quiet my voice has suddenly become.

  “Alice,” Daniel repeats in his thick Long Island accent. “Too bad I wasn’t in your group—”

  Daniel stops short as someone slings an arm around his shoulder. “Get your own figure skater. Alice was on my team.”

  At the mention of my name, my eyes dart up and I’m face to face with Hayden. Like Daniel, he must have just come from the showers. His hair is wet, curling a bit around his face. He wears a beige top that clings tight to his broad chest.

  “This guy bugging you, Alice?” Hayden says, his arm still around Daniel. Hayden smiles at me, and it’s another one I can add to the Hayden Tremblay Looks I Can’t Explain Folder. His mouth is half-forced into a twisted grimace, and one of his eyebrows is too high.

  “I didn’t know Al had a sister,” Daniel says, leaning back as if to examine me. “I see why he doesn’t bring you around now.”

  “Yeah,” Hayden laughs. “Pretty sure the Falcons would be requesting figure skating lessons all the time.”

  I stare blankly at the two of them. Then with sick understanding I realize…they’re hitting on me! Daniel and Hayden! Sacachelli and Tremblay! Number 77 and 9! Hitting on me, Al! Their teammate! Number 44!

  Daniel’s smile creeps up the side of his face and he pulls out his phone. “Say, if I did want some private lessons, how would I book those?”

  Hayden looks over at him, shooting him a glare usually reserved for the Ice Wolves.

  I heave out all the breath I can muster. “Disgusting!” I shout. “Both of you!”

  I storm through the exit. My body trembles with anger. What did I expect, that Hayden would come up and say, “Hey Alice, good game out there! Whatta pass!” the way he does with Al? Who am I kidding? Hayden didn’t notice a single thing today about how I played hockey. All he, and the entire rest of the team, noticed was a figure skater in a sparkling dress.

  I throw myself in my car and look down at the ends of the dress peeking out from under my hoodie. I don’t even know why I was worried anyone would recognize me out there. Not a single person saw a hockey player on that ice.

  It’s better pretending to be Xander. Hayden doesn’t see me as some girl skating around. I’m his teammate. Just another person playing hockey. And I’d better keep it that way.

  Chapter Ten

  Hayden

  I scoop up the puck and slide around the backside of the net. I keep my eyes fixed on the other team’s player who comes right at me, and with my eyes locked on him, I pass the puck to the side. Two seconds later I hear the buzz.

  Goal!

  That heart-racing feeling of scoring a goal runs through my body. The team engulfs Al in a celebratory huddle, but I grab his jersey and pull him out of the crowd before he gets sucked into the sea of blue. He gives me a sheepish grin.

  “I’ll have to watch that goal on the highlights,” I say.

  “Yeah,” he says, “because what kind of crazy player doesn’t even look where he’s passing?”

  “I knew you’d be there.” We skate to the bench and I slug him on the shoulder.

  I hate to admit it, but this stupid plan of his is actually sort of working. It’s been three weeks since we’ve been practicing, and in that time, we’ve racked up a lot of points. And it has another plus—I haven’t gotten into a single fight. I see tons of opportunities where I could throw down, but all I can think now is that it’s two minutes where I could be out playing with Al. It’s like he’s opened up this new thought pattern in my brain.

  And that’s why I can’t do anything to jeopardize our new partnership…like asking him for his hot sister’s number. As much as Alice drifts across my brain while I’m zoning out at school or through one of Kevin’s many lectures, I have to put her and her little white tutu out of my mind. She’s Al’s sister, and can never be anything more.

  …

  After the game, the team is in high spirits. Another win and the long weekend is coming up for Thanksgiving… Life is good for the Falcons.

  I shrug my bag over my shoulder and head out into the cold November air. Al pads beside me like usual. I’ve taken to picking him up and dropping him off after practice so we can talk about plays.

  “Big thanksgiving dinner tonight?” Al looks up, smiling.

  I exhale and watch my breath cloud in the air. “My Thanksgiving was in October.”

  “Right.” Al laughs. “Weird Canadian.”

  “What about you?”

  Al laughs as if I just said the funniest thing on Earth.

  “What?” I say.

  “My family doesn’t do holidays. My mom’s always way too busy organizing some event or another.”

  I stop and gape at him. “No holidays? Not even birthdays? Or Christmas?!”

  He darts his eyes away. “I don’t even think I own a stocking.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” I picture our old house at Christmas time. Dad would spend hours stringing lights across the roof porch, and Mom would hang garlands from every bannister. Now that my aunt and uncle own the house, I wonder if they decorate it the same.

  “It’s okay,” Al says. “Ca
n’t miss what you don’t know.”

  “Well, if you’re free tonight, Eleanor’s making ribs. I know it’s not turkey and stuffing, but she’s an amazing cook.”

  He stops. “Wait. Dinner at your house?”

  “Yeah. Dinner. It’s what normal people do when they’re hungry.”

  He stops. “But dinner with…Kevin Tremblay?”

  I throw my head back and groan. “You’re not invited, anymore.”

  He runs to catch up with me, yattering on about Kevin. So far I’ve been able to avoid him fanboying over my big brother, but I guess I should have expected this. “Okay, fine. But be cool.”

  …

  It’s a drive to our house, and I know my brother chose it because it’s in suburbia. Eleanor doesn’t like big cities; she’s used to the small suburb right outside of Winnipeg that we all grew up in.

  “I think Eleanor’s the only person on the planet to see every single one of Kevin’s hockey games. She’s gone to the arena even when she’s dying from a cold, and sits there in the rink bundled from head to toe in blankets. Her dad was our hockey coach back in Manitoba, so she’d always travel to games with us.”

  We pull down a side street with tall oak trees that cast shadows on the road in the glimmer of the street light. All the houses look the same but I pull up to a red house with a chicken on the mailbox.

  “This place is beautiful,” Al says.

  Is it? To me, it looks fake. All the houses look the same. “This is what they always wanted,” I say. “All Kevin and Eleanor would talk about was growing up and buying a house. Whenever we drove through neighbourhoods like this, they’d point out the window and say which houses they liked.”

  “And you didn’t?” Al glances sideways at me.

  “Me?” I laugh. “I just wanted to get to the game.”

  “Of course,” he says. “Driving to games always seems like the longest ride ever. I just want to get out there and play.”

  I jump out of the car, but Al lingers.

  “I wish I’d worn something nicer,” he mutters.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “But he’s the captain of—”

  “Right now,” I say, “he’s my brother. There’s a difference.”

  Eleanor opens the door before we’re even halfway up the driveway. Her big blue eyes are visible even in the twilight, and she’s curled her blond hair. I texted her I was bringing a friend, so I guess I should have expected this: she’s a born entertainer.

  “Hello! Hello, hello, hello!” A huge smile beams on her face. She wears an apron embroidered with the logo of Kevin’s hockey team.

  We enter the house and she gives Al the tour. I don’t spend a lot of time up here, besides grabbing food; it’s always so spotless, like something pulled out of a home and garden magazine. Everything has a place.

  All I can think is that it’s everything our childhood home wasn’t. Our house was a mess all the time. Mom never framed photos—they were always just stuck on the fridge. Sure, the house was chaos, but when you have two boys who only care about hockey, that’s the way things are.

  We sit down to dinner and I don’t feel the tension I usually do when I’m forced to endure a meal with the Mister and Missus. For some reason, I feel so much more comfortable with Al here. It’s almost like being on the ice: when I have my skates on, I know exactly who I am.

  Al asks Kevin a million questions about the NHL throughout dinner, but I can tell he’s trying to contain himself. Of course Mr. Captain eats it up—he never tires of talking about himself.

  “Hayden,” Eleanor says, and she does that thing where she holds my gaze to make sure I’m listening before she starts to talk. “Have you decided if you’re coming?”

  Kevin sighs. “Why do you even bother?” She’s been asking me every day for the last month, and now even Kevin’s grown tired of it. At least we’re on the same page.

  “Because one of these times,” she says, “he’s going to say yes.”

  I hide my satisfaction as I eat a spoonful of potatoes. Eleanor doesn’t know how wrong she is.

  “Go where?” Al bumps my shoulder and looks at me. I think it’s the first time he’s cast his gaze away from Kevin or his food all night.

  “Back to Winnipeg for Christmas,” Kevin says. “He didn’t come last year.”

  “Why would I want to go to snowy old Winnipeg,” I say, “when I can stay in snowy old Chicago?” I take a drink. I doubt Al wants to hear the sob story of the Tremblay brothers.

  “I’ll be here to keep you company,” Al says.

  “I thought for sure you’d head home,” I say. “Detroit isn’t far.”

  “The fam’s going to Mexico,” he says. “Mom didn’t like it, but I insisted. I would have missed a game if I went, so I’m just gonna stay by myself.”

  “I’m sure the team wouldn’t mind if you miss a couple games,” Eleanor says.

  Al’s eyes go wide and he recoils as if she just suggested he give up breathing. “Are you kidding? This is playoff crunch time! Why the hell would I waste seven days eating crap and lying on a beach when I could be scoring points for the Falcons?”

  I smile. I never thought I’d meet anyone who loves hockey as much as me. “Pizza and beer for Christmas?”

  “Perfect.” Al smiles.

  …

  Alice

  “Where are you going?” I say, as Hayden peels off the main road.

  “A little detour.” He flashes a small smirk.

  I don’t reply, just stare out the window. We’ve turned onto a gravel road, and the Jeep bounces beneath me. Dark trees watch us pass by like staring sentinels and the night seems to creep through the windows.

  “You’re not taking me out here to murder me, are you?”

  Hayden raises a thick brow. “Don’t be such a girl.”

  I give an awkward cough-laugh. “Just kidding,” I say, my voice automatically deepening an octave and I spread my legs wider. “But hey, then you’d have no competition for number one player on the team.”

  He snorts. “Not really worried about that, Al.” The Jeep rounds a corner and slowly comes to a stop. “Do you know why it’s so cold tonight?”

  Because it’s winter in Chicago? But he seems onto something, so I keep my comment to myself.

  “There’s no clouds out tonight to keep the heat in. So it’s clear.” Hayden smiles, and it shoots right through me like an arrow. “Which makes it the perfect night for stargazing.”

  My whole body freezes and I’m sucked into that smile. It’s dark in the car, but I can picture the way his brown curls fall across his eyes, the slight raise of his eyebrows.

  No one should be allowed to have a smile like that. Period.

  “Come on,” he says, and jumps out of the Jeep.

  We could have landed on Mars and I would have followed him out. I’m used to being breathless by now.

  We’re in the middle of the goddamn woods, and I can barely see a foot in front of me. I really wish I hadn’t made that joke about the whole murder thing, because now it feels like a distinct possibility.

  “Come here, stupid,” Hayden says, and I follow his voice to the front of the Jeep. He lies on the hood, arms behind his head. I’ve seen him lie like that countless times on one of the benches in the locker rooms, but he’s usually shirtless. Yet here, he makes it look just as good in his fur-lined parka.

  I jump on the hood beside him. “Whoa.”

  I’ve never seen so many stars. Spattered across the sky like chipped ice, my eyes get lost in their maze. Breath catches in my throat and I want to tell him it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But that sounds sappy…lame…girly.

  “This is cool, man,” I manage to say, but it sounds forced and awkward. He doesn’t reply. I grind my teeth, knowing I shouldn’t add anything, but the words force out of my throat: “Why are you wasting this view on me? Seems like a perfect date spot.”

  “I’ve never taken a girl here,” he says, then qui
ckly: “I mean, I don’t know. It’s, like, my spot. A good place to think. I thought…I thought you’d get it, or something…” He trails off.

  I do get it. I want to tell him it’s beautiful, and when I look up into the sky, it’s like I’m lost in all the millions of possibilities of the world. But when I look at him, I’m not lost anymore.

  “I used to go to the roof of our local arena,” I say. “When my br—err, sister, was in practice. I’d wait up there for her and just think.”

  “About what?” He turns, and I see the breath leave his lips.

  “Everything,” I say. “And absolutely nothing.”

  “I know what you mean.” He closes his eyes. “You know what this view reminds me of? My dad used to build an ice rink in our backyard every winter. He’d stand out there for hours in the freezing cold with the hose. But I think Kevin and I spent more time out there than inside. We’d stay on the ice until the sun went down and then we’d beg Mom to turn the porch light on, even though it didn’t help. Dad would come out to get us, but we’d rope him into playing…” He pauses, never taking his eyes off the stars. When he starts to talk again, his voice is deep and coarse. “And then Mom would come out and she’d have hot chocolate in everyone’s thermos. We each had a different color. Mine was red. Kevin’s was blue, Dad’s was green, and Mom’s was yellow. We’d lie on the snow beside the rink and look up at the stars. Just the four of us.”

  I have to look away from Hayden and keep my mouth shut because if I open it, I don’t know what will come out. Because I know how this story ends. Even with Hayden never telling me, Kevin’s famous enough to have his life story splattered all over the Internet.

  I swallow but my throat is dry. All the hockey magazines and bloggers love to tell the underdog story of Kevin Tremblay, who got drafted to an NHL team right after his parents were killed in a terrible car accident. But here are the true broken pieces, laid out for me to see.

  We sit in silence for a while until Hayden laughs. “The stars here are shit compared to Winnipeg though.”