Surrendering
Chapter 5: Game Time
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
January 20th
Today’s my first real game with the Ducks. I hope I won’t let them down.
I decided to be at the rink early. Hopefully no one else would think of that. I want to be alone. So I forced myself to get up early.
When I opened the door to the locker-room, someone was already there. It looked like a hurricane had gone through it, because there was stuff everywhere. I was just thinking about leaving when the guilty one showed up.
I remembered that ‘Lethal Weapon’ movie where they leave the scene so they won’t get blamed for the house blowing up. I was just thinking the same. If I stayed, I’d probably get blamed for this too, and that was the last thing I needed. (1)
“It wasn’t me,” was the first thing I said when I realized I wasn’t alone.
“I know.”
It was Guy. I was still angry with him for ridiculing me yesterday. “Did you do this?” I blamed him.
“No,” he laughed. “I showed up a minute ago. I think there are people that don’t like us very much. This happened at our last school too.” (2)
I was confused. If it hadn’t been his work, whose was it?
“You’re not trying to excuse yourself for this mess, are you? Just so you can blame me when the others show up?” I asked, sounding more intimidated then I wanted to.
Guy smiled at me. “No, I would never do that to anyone. I’m not a jerk.”
“I beg to differ,” I growled.
Guy smiled even more. “You mean about yesterday? I wasn’t actually trying to get you into trouble, you know. I was just trying to cheer you up. Connie told me that...”
“I really don’t care,” I interrupted him. “I’m the one who got detention, you’re not.”
“Jeez, you really are as hard as stone, aren’t you? I thought Connie was exaggerating,” he told me. He was still smiling, but I took it amiss anyway.
“Maybe you should mind your own business,” I said sarcastically. “I don’t know what Connie’s told you, but...”
This time he interrupted me before I could finish. “She just told me that she met you. I don’t know why, but she has this strange way of trying to bond with everyone she meets. And this is even stranger; she happens to think you’re okay too. Wonder why?”
“Well, tell her that I think she’s okay, but that I think her boyfriend’s annoying,” I answered. I went over to the other side of the room and searched for my locker. As usual, I hadn’t paid any attention when we were assigned the lockers either. I remember something about Fred pinching me, that’s all.
“Bad with names and bad with numbers. Maybe you should practice on your memory a little.”
That made no sense whatsoever. I hate when people don’t make sense. Must be why I loathe myself so much...
“I know which locker’s mine,” I muttered. “It’s... This one.”
“No, that would be Russ’s locker.”
I still had no idea who some of the player was. Russ. That name meant nothing to me.
“Well, maybe you could tell me what it is, instead of making me feel like an ass,” I caved.
“I’d love to,” he grinned. “When you admit that I’m right and you’re wrong. C’mon, I don’t have all day.”
I refused. I hate admitting that I’m wrong, even if that’s the case. “I rather take the blame for this mess,” I smirked. God, I’m really great at pissing people off.
“You know, that icy side of yours, does it ever melt?” Guy asked me. He took a step closer, and I felt my throat dry up. He was too close. Closeness makes me nervous.
“Uhm,” I stuttered. “Uhm, I... Uhm...”
My confidence was gone. Didn’t they provide free therapy-sessions for the under aged? They should.
“I think you motivated that opinion very well,” Guy teased. I felt my cheeks getting warmer and warmer. I was going to pass out soon.
“Connie told me about you too,” I told him. That was all I could come up with.
“Yeah? What did she say?” Guy asked curiously.
“She told me that you have a terrible taste in movies,” I confessed. “Maybe you two should talk it through?”
Guy smiled at me. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with that. When it comes to movies, we’re very different.”
“I actually thought you were the sane one, but whatever.” I looked at the next locker. I really wished that it was the right one.
“It’s number five,” Guy told me. “The same as your jersey.”
I had number five on my jersey? That’s my lucky-number. How did they know that? (3)
“Thanks,” I mumbled. I decided to stop being mean to everyone I meet. Guy seemed okay. Maybe I shouldn’t piss him off before our first game? Just a thought.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I was left off the hook for my detention yesterday. Coach Bombay, as Charlie keeps calling him, told our teacher that we needed to be at practice. That’s the great thing about being a stupid jock. You get off the hook easier then if you would just be a simple mortal.
When this game is over, Charlie and I have to be in detention for two hours. Fred laughed at me when I told him about my detention. We don’t have English together, at least not yet, so he heard the story through rumors until I got to give him my side of it.
I grabbed my helmet and marched out of the locker-room. I really hope I’ll live up to my new responsibility as the co-captain and one of the players in the first line.
“Hey, wait up!” Travis shouted.
I turned to face him. It’s nice to see a friendly face after all my bitching with the rest of the team. “What’s up?”
“You happy about your new spot?” he asked. I am very happy about my new spot, but I rather pretend that I’m not.
“I guess.” Could I be icier?
“I bet you are,” he said happily. “I am, I was actually expecting to lose my captain-spot altogether.”
I’ve never been a captain before. I’ve been on defense, I’ve been a goalie for my class’s bandy team (I was forced), I’ve been a left winger, I’ve even been a center once, but never ever have I been a captain.
“I’m happy for you,” I answered. I was.
“Great to be in the same line, huh?” Travis said.
“Uhm, yeah!”
I’ve never been in the first line before either. I’ve always been in the second or third line. I’m not good enough to be playing any higher up.
I skated onto the ice. I love skating. Travis once told me that it was the feeling before the game that was the reason you could keep on going during the whole game. The feeling of that newly flooded ice. I love it too now.
Fred skated up next to me and nudged me softly with his hockey stick. I smiled at him. “What?”
“I just think it’s cool that everyone gets along with you so nicely.”
“Bite me,” I muttered between my teeth.
“No, I’m serious. They think you’re funny. You’re the new ice-princess.”
I’ve never had a nickname before, which don’t include any curse-words.
“Well, peachy,” I growled.
Fred chuckled. “You’re very entertaining when you’re like this.” His expression changed, and he looked at me with a more serious face. “Because it is just a mood, right? You won’t be like this forever, right?”
Wow, some actual concern for little me?
“Mind your own business,” I frowned. Fred tried to grab my arm, but I shoved him away. He lost his balance and fell, while I skated away to the players’ booth.
“Nice,” I heard someone say. “I’ve never realized how much your hockey-skills can come in handy when you want to turn down annoying admirers.”
Another face I didn’t have name for. He saw that I had no idea who he was. I recognized him, but I didn’t know his name.
“Guy told us that you’re bad with names.”
“Just the un-important ones,” I shot back and climbed over the board.
“So I guess you know mine then,” he said with a whole lot of self confidence.
“You wish.” That was the only smart thing I could say, and it sucked.
While the others went over to the booth as well, the guy scratched his head. “Are you trying to distract me?” he asked.
He was actually quite intimidating. He was twice as tall as me and twice as big. Little pathetic I was only a midget compared to him. I have no strength, no height and no stamina. I might seem rough and tough in real life, but compared to other hockey-players, I’m nothing.
“Yeah, you seem easily distracted,” I told him. I couldn’t believe that I had the guts to even speak to him. Maybe my self confidence had grown since I got to L.A.?
He grinned and grabbed my jersey to pull me closer. Okay, now he was beginning to freak me out...
“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you, sweetie?”
No one calls me ‘sweetie’, no matter what mountain he might resemble.
“I’m not your sweetie,” I hissed at him. He let go of my jersey and I tumbled back into the booth.
“Well, for the record, I’m not easily distracted,” he told me. I shrugged. Picking fights with everything that moved maybe wasn’t so smart...
“Great, maybe you should alphabetize that record of yours while you’re at it. It’s easier to find stuff that way.” My brother used to say that to me whenever I used the phrase ‘for the record’.
“Good one,” he laughed. “I’m Portman.”
“Just Portman?”
He nodded. “And you are?”
He knew who I was, but I told him anyway. “Cecilia.”
“Just Cecilia?” he mocked me. I nodded, while I received a new shoving from Fred, who just climbed over the board. (4)
“Trouble with the ladies?” Portman asked him. Fred gave him an evil stare and sat down on the bench.
Coach Bombay gave us directions, and Charlie gathered his line, my line, before face-off.
“Let’ just try to read each others moves, okay? Since we’ve never played together before, I mean.”
I skated out to my position and buttoned my helmet. I liked my new uniform. Those red Owls-jerseys’ had been cool to play in, but I liked my new jersey a lot too. (5)
The left-winger in front of me looked at me with a superior expression on his face. Yeah, I was a tiny little girl. How good could I be? He seemed to think it was very funny that I had an ‘A’ on my jersey. Well, it was. I doubted I would still have it after this game.
I heard the whistle. I even had time to jump out of the way from the left-winger’s check. I was not prepared to get the puck, though. Charlie passed it to me after he won the face-off, and I lost my co-ordination completely.
Great, I blew my first game during the first two seconds. I’ll never be able to play in the first line ever again. They could easily change my position with someone better. I’ve seen that Adam play at practice. Why the heck wasn’t he in the first line? (6)
I kicked the puck forward and turned to see where the others were. I wish I could skate faster. Like Dmitri. Or like that new guy, Luis Mendoza. But at least I’ve learnt how to stop. Luis hasn’t.
I tried to locate Travis. I played with him back in Tamarack. He can read the game almost perfect. I can’t, not like he can. Sarah’s unbelievable at reading the game too.
I stopped abruptly. How the hell could I have made the first line? I can’t read the game, I can’t skate fast, I can’t focus on the game, I’m not strong enough to defense myself against bigger player, and ALL of the other players are ALWAYS bigger then me.
“Pass the puck!”
I realized that I was still on the ice, holding the puck. Crap. Damn. Crap. Hell.
One of the opposite team’s defensemen was skating right towards me. So, this was how I was going to die, huh? Well, I’ve had a couple of nice years. I always knew I’d be killed on the ice some day or another.
I passed the puck into the board, and it bounced away towards Nish, who was right behind me. Well, the puck wasn’t my responsibility anymore, thank God. Staying alive was, though. What the hell, could it be more glorious to die during a hockey game? Nope.
I always get thrown around during games. I have to start gain some weight, or I won’t survive these next couple of years.
“Cecilia, look out!” Nish yelled at me. Yes, I know you idiot. Don’t you think I’m trying?
I ducked to avoid getting hit directly into the face. Bad move. The defenseman shoved his stick into my stomach and pushed me into the boards. I lost my breath for a few seconds. I tried my best to crawl up from the ice.
I heard Coach Bombay, I call him that too now, yell at the referee. Like it would matter. Anyone else would’ve been fine after a check like that. Just not me. I’m too tiny.
I felt very relieved when I finally heard someone shout ‘change it up’ from the booth. Thank God, the tormenting was finally over.
I climbed over the board and came down with a thud on the bench. I really hoped no one would notice me at all. I felt humiliated. I could do better then this, couldn’t I?
“You alright?” Guy asked me. Sarah’s new line was out on the ice, throwing players around. Sarah’s tough, Dmitri’s fast, Portman’s strong and the other two seemed just as feisty as Portman and Sarah was.
“Yeah,” I mumbled. Guy left me alone after that. He had probably given up on me quite some time ago. They usually do that.
Fred nudged me again. “How’s it going?” he asked, sounding concerned. Awww, isn’t that sweet? No.
“I’m fine, Fred. I have been checked before, you know.”
He shrugged. “I was just trying to be nice.”
He gave me a hurt look. Ah, man. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”
He’s the only one I can apologize to. He’s the only one who gives me bad feelings of guilt if I treat him bad. What’s this? My new conscious, or what? I hate it.
Guy gave me an impressed gaze. He probably thought I was a stonehearted bitch who never felt bad about anything. He’s partly right.
I leant forward and put my head between my legs to keep the world from spinning. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a hockey-player.
It was probably my way of dealing with my repressed feelings. If I can’t express myself in life, I rather let my steam off at complete strangers. I can manage to get kicked around on the ice. It’s part of the game. It’s part of my life.
It’s part of me.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author’s Notes: The reason that I’m not referring to the First Line (capital F,
capital L) is that they’ve NOT become the ‘First Line’ yet, especially not in
Cecilia’s eyes. To her, it’s just the ‘first line-up’. They become the First
Line later into the story. If this doesn’t make any sense, you’ve probably not
read any of my other stories and don’t know what the hell the freaking ‘First
Line’ is, so just ignore this, okay?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
(1) In ‘Lethal Weapon 3’,
there’s two scenes involving a house blowing up, in the beginning and the end.
The second time a building blows up, Murtaugh and Riggs decide to leave BEFORE
the bomb goes off, so they won’t get blamed. Just as they leave, the house
blows up anyway.
(Movie: Lethal Weapon 3, 1992)
(2) In D3, the Ducks got in
trouble with the Varsity team (like you don’t already know). That’s what Guy’s
referring to.
(Movie: D3: The Mighty Ducks)
(3) I know it’s obvious for those who actually read ‘Searching and Chasing’: Cecilia’s jersey number when she played for the Owls’ were 5, so that’s probably how ‘they’ knew that it was ‘her’ number...
(4) Another thing is that neither Fred’s nor Cecilia’s last name is ever mentioned in any story. Even though they do have last names.
(5) In the first Screech Owl’s book
‘Mystery at Lake Placid’, the Owls’ wear red sweater, and I wrote this before
they changed the color of their uniforms. They’re blue, white and red now.
(Book: Mystery at Lake Placid, Roy MacGregor)
(6) Cecilia is not actually playing in the first line-up, she just think she is. There’s an explanation to this in chapter 6.
~*~*~
~*~*~