Spice of Life

"Now Lindsey, the main thing to keep in mind is variety." Mom stressed again, handing me a pamphlet. The two of us were cleaning up the kitchen after dinner: her rinsing the dishes off in the sink and me stacking them in the dishwasher.

"Let me guess," I asked her, pausing from at the dishwasher to read the slogan off the cover. "Next you're going to tell me it's the spice of life."

"Very funny." She smiled at me. "But seriously, the key to a healthy diet is not only to get variety in foods, but endure a variety of habits."

"Mom, how much free time do you have at this new job?" It sounded like she was directly quoting the words in front of me as I leafed through the pamphlet. Well, she was pretty darn close at least. I didn't like the sound of enduring through anything, either.

"Ahem," she continued. "Habits like exercise."

"Not the e-word," I groaned at her.

"Yes, the dreaded e-word," she spoke sarcastically. "The best thing schedule for your age bracket is to do rigorous exercise in the afternoon, stop eating before eight p.m., and do light exercises afterwards. It will increase your metabolism along with your muscle mass."

"Do I want to increase my muscle mass?" I asked her, fears of looking like one of those scary women body builders on television. That was the last thing I wanted.

"Absolutely." She assured me. "Muscle burns more calories than fat, so you're generally burning more calories all the time."

"But calories are the building blocks to life." I quoted my pamphlet.

"Yes, but they can also be detrimental to your health if you consume too many. And that's another key thing to keep in mind, not just cutting out fats and salts, but calories from your diet as well." With that, she leaned forward and poked my belly with the tip of her index finger.

"This is starting to confuse me." I admitted, setting the paper on the kitchen counter and went back to the dishes. Mom had built up quite a pile for me to stack in the washer while I'd taken my little break. Since she was now finished, she dried her hands on a dishtowel and started wiping the counter around the sink with it.

"I know it's new concepts to you, but I can help make it easier on you, Linds." Mom assured me. "Since you have hockey practice after school, that can be your rigorous exercise. I can cook special meals for you after our dinner too, which works for you because you get home later than dinner sometimes. Then I can exercise with you afterwards."

"Really?" It sounded like an awfully large amount of work on Mom's part, when it was geared around my supposed weight loss. I wondered why she sounded so gung-ho about the whole thing anyway.

She sure doesn't need to worry about loosing anything on her, I eyed Mom's slim figure. She was also a good four inches taller than me.

"Absolutely. This is your health we're talking about, kiddo." She spoke firmly and nodded at me, tossing the dishtowel in front of me to dry my hands on if I so desired. After the last plate had been stacked and I closed the washer door, I took the pamphlet and tucked it my back jeans pocket to read later. For the moment, homework was calling. I already felt the headache coming on thinking about the two hundred pages I needed to catch up in my reading. Unfortunately, for the first time in four years, I'd have to miss the nightly hockey game with Dad.

Damn homework. Hockey was proving to be more of a time commitment than I'd originally thought it would be, not to mention the sheer sense of exhaustion I felt after each class. Talk about rigorous: Coach had increased practices to four times a week now, two to three hours each day, depending on how hard he felt we were working. The only good that came out of it was that the guy's team was now forced to practice later in the evening, so I saw even less of Zac. Funny, by now I'd almost convinced myself that avoiding him was a good thing.. almost.

My legs ached once more as I climbed the stairs up to my room. After taking the seat behind my desk, I grabbed my American History book, all two inches thick of it, and opened it in front of me with a thump. I could already feel my headache coming back after the first two pages.

This is not going to be fun, I thought, glancing down at my book. Who cares about the stupid Age of Imperialism?

Reaching my hands up, I closed my eyes and massaged my pulsing forehead. Although Coach had cut practice short to weigh us in today, I still felt just as tired as I'd been all week..

Just thinking about it makes me want to sleep, I glanced over at my bed, which was practically calling out to me.

"Ok, focus here Linds." I tried for the pep talk approach. Slapping my cheeks lightly to wake myself up, I turned back to my book. It took about four more minutes of reading before my head collapsed into my arms across my book and I drifted into the wondrous world of sleep.

"Hanson!" Zac's coach scolded him again as he slid onto the ice during another drill. This sure wasn't his day for practicing; he'd had a lack of focus the entire time and his sense of balance, no matter how slight, seemed to be completely gone.

"Sorry, Coach." He apologized, picking himself off the ice again. He puffed his breathe loudly as he hurried to catch up with the rest of the team in the ever-so popular speed drills. It wasn't the speed he needed to work on, it was the stopping and turning around each cone that seemed to mess him up every time.

"Hanson, you have the grace of my bulldog." His coach sided as Zac crashed into another cone next to him. As he stood up, Zac got a jerk backward as his coach grabbed the collar of his jersey and held him back for a little talk.

"Did someone put grease on your blades again?"

"Not that I know of." Zac mumbled in response.

"Well, you're looking at another defenseman's position this year unless you get more control of yourself. Doesn't do much for the team if all our offense is good for is knocking over the other team."

"Hey, it could be a new strategy." He smiled grimly, despite his situation.

"Maybe another year, when we aren't defending our title." His coach laughed a little.

"But keep this in mind." He scribbled a number on a slip of paper and passed it to Zac.

"My niece teaches ballet lessons at the dance studio upstairs. I would highly recommend you get some pointers in balance. You're a great defense player, but I'd really like to challenge you more. Think of this as the starting point, Hanson."

"You're kidding right?" One look at his coach's face told Zac he wasn't.

Who would've guessed that Lindsey was right? This absolutely sucks. He couldn't wait for the other guys on the team to rip him to shreds on this one.

"Ballet lessons?" Kevin, another defenseman, laughed loudly as he handed the card back to Zac.

"I can't believe this." Zac threw his pads forcefully into his locker and slammed it shut. Someone, that didn't make him feel much better, so he let out a deflated sigh and sat down on a bench.

"Sucks to be you, man."

"You're not much help here, Kevin."

"Hey, you want sympathy, you go find a ballerina- wait! You are one." Evan laughed hysterically.

"Shut up," Zac growled, in no mood to put up with teasing, even if it was good-natured.

"What's this about ballerinas?" Dan, the starting goalie, entered the locker room. He was enormous: six foot four, nearly two hundred pounds, about one percent of it fat, and aptly named 'The Wall' by his team.

"Zac's taking ballet lessons." Kevin informed Dan.

"Really?"

"No!" Zac cried, outraged that his friend had blurted out what he'd promised to keep a secret seconds earlier. He glared at Kevin.

"There's no shame in that." Dan surprised the both of them while peeling off his jersey. Zac and Kevin's mouths dropped open simultaneously.

"You're kidding, right Dan?" Zac finally found his voice. It didn't seem humanly possible to form a mental image of his friend prancing around in a leotard. He held back laughing at the mental image.

"Nope. Coach made me take 'em two years ago. Best decision I ever made too." Dan declared with a wide grin.

"Why?" Zac asked curiously.

"Dude, you know how many other guys take ballet?" Both Zac and Kevin shook their heads back and forth silently.

"None!" Dan continued.

"Or, if there are any, they're all skinny Mama's boys. I'd never seen so many hot chicks in one room before.." His wide shoulders shook in a hearty laugh.

"Met my girlfriend Tiffany there."

"I'm not exactly looking for a girlfriend right now-" Zac started to say when Kevin interrupted him.

"Man, we're there!" He grabbed the card from Zac's fingers, a hopeful grin on his face.

"Are you serious?" This from the guy who ripped me out for it a few minutes ago?

"Absolutely." The grin widened. "If you've seen how much action I haven't been getting recently, maybe you'd understand more. I'll call tomorrow about lessons."

"Whatever Kevin." Zac mumbled, not sharing his friend's enthusiasm to say the least.

"Ballet lessons?" Taylor laughed loudly when Zac brought the idea up at dinner.

"Like me, Zac?" Avery bounced in her seat at the idea of her brother joining her dance class.

"Not exactly," he replied quietly, setting his fork down.

"Aww, come on Zac." Taylor wanted to milk this for all it was worth. "You'd look so cute in a pink leotard and matching tights."

"Not exactly." Zac repeated with a scowl.

"But you have such nice legs, Zachary, let the world behold their glory."

"Enough Tay!" He snapped.

"Zac, don't yell at your brother. Tay, for harassing your brother you get to clean up the table when we're finished." Their mother put her foot down on the bickering at her dining room table. Zac threw a satisfied smirk at Taylor.

"I must admit, I'm intrigued by your sudden interest in ballet, Zac." His father added.

"My hockey coach seems to think it'll help my balance. Kevin seems to think it'll find me a girlfriend."

"Like Kevin knows anything about girls." Taylor grinned. Angela, his girlfriend was Kevin's older sister. Taylor spent more than enough time at their house to get the impression Kevin was anything but a lady killer.

"So wait a minute," Diana spoke up again, a frown on her face. "You want to take ballet lessons to meet girls?"

"No, Mom." Zac rolled his eyes. "Kevin does. I don't want to but it's supposed to help in hockey. So.. can I or not?"

"Sounds all right to me." She replied, eyes narrowing in warning at the sarcastic tone he'd used with her. "Walker?"

"If my son wants to be a ballerina, my opinion doesn't apply here." His Dad grinned.

"Thanks." Zac rolled his eyes. This is going to be humiliating.