I've never seen so many instant judgments and assessments in my life. Most of us knew each other - there are only so many players in the Carolinas, Tennessee, and Georgia, and if you're one of the really good ones you pretty much play with or against all the other really good ones at some point. But there were a few new guys. "Who's the goalie?" asked Billy Morris, seated to my left and scanning the crowd.
"Um, Adam, I'd assume."
"He's not very good. He's probably a backup. Since Bryan moved to Wisconsin, we haven't had a really good one."
Before I could say anything in Adam's defense - and he was a pretty good goalie - the locker room door opened, and someone I know none of us knew came in. He wasn't overly tall, probably my height of 5'8" or 5'9". But he moved with a quiet assurance as he set his equipment down at the locker next to mine. He was a goalie. I saw a look of relief wash over Adam as he realized he wouldn't have to be #1, and the rest of the guys just studied the new guy. He was wearing jeans, like the rest of us, but his were just a little tighter than ours. His denim jacket covered a long sleeved t-shirt that read "Vermont State Select Team."
But none of us said anything, and before I had a chance to greet him, our coach and his two assistants pushed into the room. "Morning, boys," Coach Frank Brown greeted gruffly. He was the best coach in the south, from Columbia, SC. "You all know why you're here. You're the best 25 hockey players under the age of 18 in the quad-state area. Today, it's August 10. By January 1, I'm going to turn you into a competitive team. You don't get a lot of exposure down here, I know. We're going to change the way scouts view southern players. Now, room assignments are posted on the board outside. In two hours, be back here for our first practice."
He left, and we looked at each other. It could be an interesting year.
As it turned out, it wasn't just room assignments posted. He also had our initial lines and defensive partners up there, our numbers, and the captain and alternates. "Parker Addison? Hey, who's Parker?"
I looked up at the sound of my name. It was New Guy. I raised my hand. "That'd be me."
Moving past the others crowded in front of the sheets, he wondered over to me. "Hi. I'm Kevyn Reynolds. I guess we're roommates."
"Guess so," I said, giving him a smile. His voice wasn't really like I'd expected. Honestly, between his clothing and haircut, I expected a bit of an...effeminate voice. But his was low, soft, and firm.
"We're in 6," he added. "Sign said they took our other stuff up there already." He started walking, and I followed, taking note of the pairs the others were in. My initial opinion was that Coach Brown had done a fair job of pairing us up. I didn't really know why they put me with New Guy - Kevyn - though. "Where are you from?"
"Durham. North Carolina," I told him. "You? I know you can't have been here too long...I know everyone that plays in the area."
"Just moved to Atlanta, like a month ago. From Vermont."
"I figured. From your shirt."
"Oh, right. So, were you a captain before?"
"Yeah, on my school team. And the all-state team. Wait - am I a captain now?"
He grinned. "Yeah. Didn't you look?"
"No...I thought it would be Neo Barrett."
"Do you know everyone else?" he asked, opening the door. It was a nondescript dorm room - two single beds, two closets, two dressers, two desks. Our bags were on the floor in the middle of the room, and I figured I might as well start unpacking during our two hours.
"Yeah, pretty much. The player pool around here isn't huge, and the good ones are all competitors or teammates at some point. There are six other guys from my last good team."
"So, we've got a pretty long time. Tell me about some of the players."
"Mm...ok. My guess would be he'd pair up the guys from the same area, at least at first, since we already know each other. So I'd be with Billy and Dame. They're both from my area...we've been playing on the same line since we were like 6. Billy's a good, solid player, great defensive forward, always hustling. Dame's got the killer shot...hard as hell, and he can place it anywhere he wants anytime he wants. Lead the state in scoring 4 years running. All in all, our offense is pretty even. Link and Vin are our enforcers. They usually don't play on the same line, except maybe on special teams. Neo and Russ are our other main snipers. Tay, Kyle, and Dan, the other centers, are all good puckhandlers and have good speed. On defense, Austin and Michael Fischer are probably the best defenders in the south. Very smart, very fast, and not afraid to play rough. Mendy's our major speed down low, he's probably the fastest defender I've ever played against. The others are solid and good. Stormy stands out - leads defenders in scoring in the THSSA. He plays a good point on power plays, too. Kore's a good goalie, despite what the others might say, but he's streaky and doesn't have a lot of confidence in himself. When he's on, he's unbeatable, but it's hard to tell when that will be."
He looked up from the pile of clothing he was amassing on his bed to put away. "Where do you fit in?"
I shrugged. "I'm a center."
"I heard you were the best on the team."
"Where'd you hear that?"
"Sarah. She's the equipment manager. The daughter of the head of one of the groups financing this team. Knows all of you."
I swallowed. "Oh."
"She said you were amazing with the puck, could see plays developing before anyone on the ice, rarely made a bad pass, and were leading your state league in points. She also said you were the best penalty killer on the team, and the best captain in the region."
I could feel myself blushing. I wasn't THAT good. "Oh. Well..."
He paused again, and looked up. "Modesty's nice. Too many of the best are so damn...cocky."
I felt a little better, and flashed him a smile. "Well, you haven't seen me on the ice."
He raised an eyebrow. "And you haven't seen me either."
"You're a goalie."
"Ah. I'm the goalie." His grin turned positively maniacal. "Best damn goalie in the state of Vermont. Moving down here...well, now I'm probably the best in the region."
I thought he was kidding, but I wasn't up to taking jokes about the south and hockey. "I bet anybody out there could score on you. Including me."
He raised his eyebrow again, but the smile never wavered. "Oh yeah? Wanna go out early and see if you can score on me, hotshot?"
"If you're up the challenge."
Laughing, he turned back to his bags.