Breakaway (16 page)

Liam tells me he’s a wide receiver. The camaraderie, the locker-room pranks, the chirping, the roller coaster of highs and lows of football is more familiar territory, although the lingo is overwhelming.

“But how do you keep track of all those plays?” I ask him. “Our team can barely learn two systems!”

“Football players have to be smart,” he says.

“Do you want to keep playing after you graduate?” I ask.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I don’t have a hope in hell. No, I want to get into veterinary science one of these days.”

“Good for you,” I say. “I wish I knew what I want to do.”

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” he says.

“I hope so.”

It’s quiet again.

“Does this mean we’re friends now?” he asks.

“I guess.” I reach for the door handle and fumble with it.

“So I can talk to you at school and you won’t bite my head off?”

“Yes, but please – no more signs at my hockey games. Don’t give people ideas, okay?”

He looks at me uncertainly and then laughs. “Sure thing, Hockey Girl.” He holds out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

I pull it out of my pocket. “What do you want it for?”

He turns it on, finds my contact list, and punches in a phone number. “Just in case you need me sometime,” he says. “That’s what friends are for, right?” He holds out the phone, and our fingertips touch briefly.

“Right,” I reef on the handle again, then look at him helplessly.

“Allow me,” Liam says, getting out.

A few minutes later I stand in my doorway watching his truck sputter and cough as it backs out of my driveway, and part of me wishes we could keep on talking. Wishes I could call his number and tell him to come back.

What would Evan say about that, my little voice says.

–
Chapter
Twenty-two
–

B
efore Game Two
against Swift Current, the girls are smart enough not to talk about the party, the guys, or the beer, but they are clearly hung over. When I tell Bud about my accident, he brushes it off, but Sue looks suspicious.

“So what was going on at Whitney’s last night?” she asks.

“Just a post-game meeting,” I reply.

I hate lying, and I’m also lousy at it. Not a great combination.

I retire to the stands to watch the game with Amber. Ten minutes into the first period, it’s abundantly clear the Wildcats are going to clutch and grab Jodi Palmer into oblivion and pepper Miranda with shots. She gives up two soft goals.

Teneil, the usual bearer of bad news, slides into a seat behind me. “So – you fell off your pedestal,” she whispers in my ear.

“My what?” I don’t give her the satisfaction of turning around.

She leans ahead and examines my cheek for a long moment. “Oh yeah, it’s true.”

“What is it I’m supposed to have done?” I ask.

“Got drunk at Whitney Johnstone’s and fell down the stairs.”

Amber’s big blue eyes get bigger. “Jessie, you didn’t!”

“Well, I did fall down the stairs. I told you that already.”

Teneil leans closer. “I heard you were in no shape to drive, so Liam MacArthur took you to emergency. Dr. Bilkhu had to pump your stomach because you had alcohol poisoning.”

“Is that all?” I ask.

She narrows one eye, clearly pissed that I’m not rising to the bait. “Sue benched you and stripped your C. You’re probably going to get cut.”

I consider how she’ll be circulating through the lobby during intermission, spreading rumours and resurrecting the ugly ghosts of my past. Bud and Sue will hear about it, and then we’re all in shit. Some captain. I never should have let Whitney plan that sleepover.

I stare at the ice, willing Teneil to leave. When she doesn’t, I start humming “Hernando’s Hideaway.” Courtney skated to the song a few years ago, and it’s the most annoying one I know.

That
gets rid of her.

Amber places a cool palm on my forehead. “I worry about
you. I think this whole AAA thing is driving you crazy.”

“You could be right about that.”

I pull out my phone, which has been beeping in my pocket for the last hour. Without looking, I know that the texts will be Evan’s, but I’m not in the mood to read or respond to them.

An air horn sounds, announcing a Wildcat goal. The Swift Current fans on the other side of the arena cheer while their team celebrates on the ice. I hold up my hand and pretend to squish the heads of the Wildcats between my thumb and forefinger.

“Jessie, you’re scaring me,” Amber says.

“Sorry.”

“You never told me you got benched.” She wiggles closer and puts her arm through mine.

“I didn’t. Dr. Bilkhu told me not to play, and I’m not. End of story.”

“Are you sure?”

It
so
isn’t the end.

When the period’s over, I slip down to our dressing room. It’s not a happy place. Everyone’s fine while the coaches are there, but as soon as the door shuts behind them, the bitching and blaming begins. I always thought Carla wouldn’t stand for that kind of talk, but she and Amy just sit in the corner and whisper while the rest of the team tanks.

“Nobody’s actually trying out there,” Kathy says.

“You’re saying I’m not trying?” Jodi demands.
“Try
getting open so I have someone to pass to!”

I’ve never heard Jodi talk like this.

As for me, I’m stinging from the “Captain Anal” remarks. I can sit here and say nothing – if that’s what they
really
want.

No skin off my ass.

I sit with Amber for the rest of the game, watching the Wildcats hook and hang on Jodi every time she steps on the ice. They know if they shut her down, they shut
us
down. One of them crosschecks her into the boards late in the third. There’s no reason for it. They’ve already got the game in hand.

“That’s checking from behind,” Amber says.

“Hit her right in the numbers,” I reply. “Good thing she had her head up.”

But the ref doesn’t call a thing. Kathy skates right at him, arguing. Then Jodi goes after him herself. He skates away, but Jodi keeps chasing him.

“What’s she doing?” Amber asks.

The ref ends up giving Jodi two minutes for unsportsmanlike. Then she skates over to the Swift Current bench and starts screaming at their coach.

“Somebody needs to rein her in,” I say.

Carla puts a hand on Jodi’s shoulder and tries to reason with her. Jodi turns and flings an arm out, knocking Carla off balance, no small feat considering the difference in their size.

“Can you get two for roughing your
own
teammate?” Amber wonders.

The linesman escorts Jodi to the penalty box. On the way in, she bangs her stick on the boards and breaks it.

We lose 7–2. Furthermore, the Wildcats outshoot us 48–
14, and that hurts just as bad as the score.

Bud doesn’t tie into us after the game. He gives us a pep talk, tells us we’ll get back to some basics in practice, promises to help us do better next time. Jodi apologizes to Carla and the rest of the team for her behaviour.

Sue sits there and dissects each of us with that piercing gaze of hers.

Only a matter of time before she figures it out.

–

T
hat same night while I’m cuddled up on the couch with my calculus notes, I get a text from Jodi.

U home?

Yep.

Comin’ over.

“Who did you say brought you home last night?” Mom asks from the dining room.

“I didn’t say,” I reply, willing the phone to ring or the dishwasher to spring a leak.

“So who was it? One of the girls?” Mom asks.

“Uh huh.”

“Which one?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I want to thank her for taking you to emergency and getting you home safe and sound. It was the right thing to do.”

Mom always knows the right thing to do.

I wish that knowledge would rub off on
me.

“It wasn’t one of the girls, Mom.”

She comes out of the dining room.

“It was a guy.”

“Are you involved with him?”

I think about the drive back to my place, the time we spent in his truck, talking and laughing.

“I don’t know,” I tell her.

“Does Evan know you feel this way?” She sits down at the end of the couch.

“No.”

“Shouldn’t you tell him?”

My heart sinks. “I can’t, Mom. Not now. He says I’m all he has.”

Mom pulls my feet onto her lap, warming my cold toes with her hands. “Jessie, you’re too young for this.”

That gets me going. “You
wanted
me to go out with him!”

Mom shakes her head gently. “You’re misunderstanding me. I just meant you’re too young to be involved with someone who’s so serious about you.” She pauses and clears her throat. “I’ve had some heart to hearts with him – when you’re not home.”

“You have? What does he say?”

The doorbell rings.

We stare at each other for a second.

“That’s probably Jodi,” I say, standing up.

As soon as I open the door, I know something’s wrong. Jodi’s got a shopping bag in her hands, and I can tell what’s inside.

Her Oiler jerseys.

“You didn’t take long to get here,” I say.

“I came from the church. I was talking to Pastor Matt,” she replies.

“Do you at least want to come inside?”

She steps past me, and I close the door.

Mom waves at Jodi and slips back into the dining room. “I’ll give you girls some space.”

Jodi sets the bag beside the closet. “I’ll get straight to the point.”

“Okay.”

She purses her lips, tucks her dark hair behind her ears. “AAA isn’t what I thought it would be. I thought I’d be surrounded by girls who are serious about hockey, and I thought I could overlook the fact many of them don’t put Jesus first.”

“Jodi ...”

She puts up her hand abruptly. “I knew I could count on you to say and do what’s right for the team and for us as individuals. That’s why I voted for you as captain.”

I am blown away. Jodi voted for
me?

Her next words snuff out my joy. “But that was a mistake. You’re not the person I thought you were.” Her eyes search my face. “You’re a lot like the girl I
used
to be. And this team is heading in a dangerous direction. I’m not getting dragged down again.”

“Jodi, it’s not what you think. Let me explain.”

“It’s too late for that.” She takes a step backwards. “See you around.”

She opens the door and shuts it behind her.

I stand there and stare at it for the longest time, wondering: how did I get here? If I could just figure out where I tripped, maybe I could make things right. But I can’t.

And just when I think things couldn’t possibly get worse.

They do.

Oh, they do.

–
Chapter
Twenty-three
–

S
hit hits the fan
during dryland. I know something’s wrong when Sue and Bud
both
show up at the Leisure Centre. We’re doing circuit training when they walk in.

Sue marches straight over to me. “Team meeting in Room A in the library in ten minutes. Get your players there. Make sure you get hold of anybody who
isn’t
here.” She starts to walk away, then looks back at me. “No need to call Jodi, is there?”

“No, there isn’t.”

I harbour a faint hope the meeting is about Jodi quitting and the adjustments we’ll have to make to compensate for her loss. But it’s very faint.

The only girl missing from dryland – besides Jodi – is a Rookie who pulled her groin on Sunday. I text her and tell to get her butt over here ASAP. She doesn’t have a ride, so Miranda volunteers to pick her up.

“Don’t be long,” I tell Miranda as she changes into her street shoes.

As we walk down the hall towards the library, music is booming through the walls of the multi-purpose room.

“Gunvor,” Kathy says.

We look through the glass in the double doors. Gunvor, the Leisure Centre’s premier fitness instructor, is putting the Bruins through their paces. Her workouts are legendary.

“Poor guys,” Carla says. “She’ll kill them for sure.”

“Well, Sue’s going to kill us,” Kathy says.

Once we’re in the library, we assemble around the tables arranged in the centre of the meeting room. No one talks. We just stare at one another like we’re playing high-stakes poker instead of waiting for the hammer to fall.