by me
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which Parker worries about things that are out of his control, we have familial cameos, and Chris shows that he's really cool.
Notes: I'm trying to ressurect the Exposure muses. This isn't written in my usual style...it's kind of choppy, and definitely forced. But hopefully they'll start functioning again.
You know, I'm an amazingly lucky kid. Today is my 18th birthday. I am one chemistry test away from graduating from high school without having even been there for like an entire year. I just scored 2 goals in an 8-2 rout of a hockey team from Minnesota. I'm sitting in a restaurant now. My boyfriend is holding my hand under the table. My parents, three brothers, and sister are all here. My best friends are sitting across the table. It doesn't get much better.
And yet, everything isn't perfect. I will be in the June draft. If I don't get drafted, I'm not sure what will happen. I'm not even sure what will happen if I do. But I might not see Chris anymore, I might not see my family anymore. I might not see Billy and Dame anymore. And those aren't comforting thoughts.
Billy's future is much more set than the rest of ours. He's going to play at Boston University. He had a pretty good chance to get drafted from there if he wanted, and if not, he'll have a college degree. But Dame, Chris, and Kevyn are entering with me. Kev will go high, higher than the rest of us. He's an excellent goalie. The rest of us...I guess it's hard to say.
The next couple of months will matter a lot. Next week we go north. We're playing all over Canada. Then we cross the ocean and we're playing in a tournament in Sweden and one in Russia.
Chris squeezed my hand, startling me out of my thoughts. "You ok, Park?" he asked me softly.
I sighed. "Yeah...sorry, just thinking." Chris and I had gotten pretty close. I mean, we're dating and stuff, but we talk a lot. He's been good...steady. Someone who isn't always counting on my brilliant hockey skills and captaincy.
"Parker, are you finished eating?" My father was watching me. He was smiling, amused by my interactions with Chris, I think. Needless to say, he doesn't really mind that his oldest son is gay. Actually, his two oldest sons.
I released Chris' hand and nodded. "Yeah, I'm never hungry after games anyway."
I ended up zoned out for most of the meal, lost in my own thoughts. I made arrangements to meet them for Ali and Scott's games tomorrow, hugged my siblings and parents and left. Billy had ridden down with my parents to visit, a weekend off from the pretty intensive physical therapy he was undergoing to get his knee back in shape, so he and Damon weren't paying attention to much other than each other. I had to stop them from walking in front of cars a couple times.
Chris came back to my room with me. Kevyn had gone to a movie with some of the other guys and wasn't back yet. "Happy Birthday, Park."
I reached out for his hands and smiled. "Thanks."
"Are you all right? You seemed pretty...out of it tonight."
"Yeah, yeah. It's just...I don't know, after this season is over, when the draft comes up, anything can happen. We could go anywhere - or not go anywhere. I guess I'm just worrying about it a little."
He kissed me gently. "You will be drafted. Parker, there are scouts everywhere we go. They're watching us, you can be sure of that."
I sighed. "You know, it's not really even if I get drafted, it's where."
He smiled sadly. "Yeah, yeah, I know." We looked at each other for a minute, then he jumped up. "I have a present for you."
"You didn't have to get me anything."
"I know," he replied, digging through his backpack and coming up with a small wrapped package. "Here."
I opened it carefully. It was a card, encased in protective hard plastic. I turned it over, and a face familiar face stared back at me. He was wearing green and white instead of red, black and white, but hell, I had his poster on my wall. He was recognizable even 20 years younger. And scrawled across the front of the card in thin black sharpie was the autograph. Ron Francis. I looked up at Chris, who was grinning, proud of himself. Slightly shocked, I hugged him. "Where did you get this?"
"My secret," he said.
"Wow," was all I could say, still staring dumbfounded. I had lots of cards, of course, a couple hundred, but not this card. It was a '82-'83 O-Pee-Chee. His rookie card. And the fact that Chris had thought of it for me made it that much better.
He took the card out of my hand and set it gently on the bedside table. He pushed me gently backwards on the bed and kissed me. "Happy birthday," he murmured again.