Hating the Rookie: Laketown Hockey Series Page 4

  Was this the modern-day version of my mom sending me to my room?

  “I can help.” I grabbed the pot from the trivet on the table, but my mom took it from my hands. “Go.” She directed with her head to the door.

  My cheeks burned. I knew I was acting like a child. “Thank you for lunch, mom. It was really good.” I hoped that my voice sounded stronger to them than it did to me. I was fighting hard to hold in my tears. I didn’t look at any of them as I rushed out into the fresh air.

  Buddy followed behind me as I made my way to my cabin. I kicked at stray stones and angrily pushed branches out of my way. But, with every step that I took, I got a little less angry, and in the end, I just felt embarrassed.

  Instead of continuing to Cabin One, I veered onto the trail leading to Cabin Three.

  Chapter 6 – Brodie

  THE WIND BARELY RUSTLED the leaves as I walked through the bush. My hair had gone from being lake soaked to sweat-soaked in an hour. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and took a swig from my water bottle, which was sweating as much as I was.

  Mrs. Corbett’s lunches were delicious, but Brianna was right, who cooks hearty stews in the summer? I checked the time on my phone, thankful that there was enough time to hop in the lake and cool off before practice. When I left the main cabin, something felt off. I didn’t have my golden retriever shadow – I whistled for Buddy, but he didn’t appear.

  As I emerged from the trail, I realized that he had beat me home and that he wasn’t alone. Brianna was sitting on my front porch, her freckled arms wrapped around her knees. Buddy sat dutifully beside her, his pink tongue hanging out as he panted in the shade.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “He followed me,” Brianna said.

  “I wasn’t talking to Buddy.” I unscrewed the top of my water bottle to let Buddy have a drink as I slowly poured it onto the porch. Brianna shifted as the line of water inched towards her thighs.

  “I came to talk to you.” She didn’t look at me, her eyes were trained on the lake behind me.

  “To apologize?” I asked.

  “What?” she muttered under her breath and then stood up. She brushed some invisible dust off the front of her purple nylon shorts. “Listen Brodie. I don’t like you and you don’t like me.”

  “That’s not true.” I leaned against the porch post, kicked off my flip flop, and patted Buddy with my bare foot.

  Her head jerked back slightly. “No?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t hate you. I don’t like you. I don’t feel anything towards you.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Is that so?” She rubbed her opposing bicep with her fingers, a nervous habit she’d had for years.

  I shrugged. “Yep.”

  Her fingers rubbed her arm harder and I could see the redness forming beneath them. “Well, I don’t like you. At all.”

  “Call the newspaper.” I was poking the bear, but I didn’t care.

  She exhaled so heavily it could’ve almost been a growl. “But my parents, this place,” she opened her arms to gesture in either direction, “they need you; they need us.”

  “They need more than us,” I said.

  Brianna nodded and stepped from the porch onto the ground. She balled her hands into fists and put them on her hips. “Be that as it may, if any of us are going to have a remotely decent summer, you and I are going to have to put aside our differences and pretend to get along, for their sake.”

  And ours. I thought to myself. I had no problem being civil to Brianna, but I wasn’t going to let her insult me and get away with it. “Fine,” I said.

  “Good...” she seemed like she wanted to say more.

  “Is that it?” I asked. “Because I have to get to practice.”

  She kicked at the cedar chips in front of the porch with the toe of her running shoe. “Are they okay?” Her voice was quieter.

  “What do you mean?” I continued rubbing Buddy, avoiding eye contact with her.

  “The cabins aren’t booked. It looks like they haven’t done any work here in months.”

  “I’m sure they’ll tell you,” I said.

  “Tell me what?”

  “I don’t know if it’s up to me to say anything.”

  She sat down on the bottom step. “Brodie. When it comes to this place, and my parents, we promise to be civil to each other, right?”

  “Right,” I said.

  “So, tell me what’s going on.” The anger had completely disappeared from her voice and had been replaced with concern.

  “It’s been in all of the newspapers.” I was drawing it out on purpose. She was the one who had run away from here leaving me to pick up the pieces she left behind. “You don’t follow the local news?”

  “I’m kind of busy.” The edge was back in her voice.

  “There’s a big development proposal for Buckwheat Bay.”

  “What’s that got to do with us?” she asked.

  “It’s a big development, they want to expand it to include Casper Cove.

  “Oh.”

  Buckwheat Bay was home to a marina, an aging motel, and a food truck. “They want to put in a luxury hotel spa, timeshares, tennis courts, you name it.”

  “I remember hearing about that plan, but when did Casper Cove get included?”

  “When the bigwigs realized that they didn’t want their staff living onsite.”

  “They want to use our cabins as staff housing?” Brianna knitted her brow.

  For someone so book smart, she didn’t get it. “They’ve given your parents an offer on the cabins.”

  “But they don’t want to sell, this is their dream property.”

  “I know. And the offer was shitty.”

  “What’s the big deal then?” Brianna turned to face me.

  “The developers are pissed and are being dicks about it. They’ve bought up all the advertising in the newspaper. They’ve got people leaving crappy reviews online for Casper Cove. They drove their dump trucks down the road in the spring before the frost was gone, didn’t you notice how bad it was?” I tried to keep my emotions in check, but the way the developers were acting got under my skin. “I even think they were the ones that cut the clamp on the waterline.”

  “Seriously?” Brianna’s eyes were wide.

  “I have no proof, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “They’re sabotaging us.”

  “Trying to.” I clarified. “The bookings that we have are returning guests, they know what a gem this place is...”

  “But there aren’t any new reservations.” She rubbed her chin.

  “Right.”

  “Fuckers.” She balled her hands into fists again.

  “Damn right. Fuckers.”

  “Well,” she chuckled. “At least we can agree on one thing.” She smiled meekly and held out her hand. “Are we agreeing? Peace when we’re here?”

  “Peace.” I held up my fingers in the peace sign.

  She nodded with pursed lips and dropped her hand.

  I couldn’t help myself. “But war everywhere else?”

  She shook her head, spun on her heel, and marched toward her cabin. She stopped a few feet away and turned. “Buddy,” she called.

  The old dog lifted his head lazily then set it back down. I could see her face getting redder by the second. She whistled. “Buddy.” She clapped her hands. The dog didn’t budge.

  I shrugged and raised my hands in an exaggerated, there’s nothing I can do motion. She stomped back to the porch. “Buddy,” she hissed. “Come on.” She tugged at his collar, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “He’s my dog.” Her fingers were looped in his collar.

  “I was there the day your dad brought him home from the shelter.” I pointed out.

  She released his collar and crossed her arms. “So was I.”

  “And he’s been with me every day for the past six months. Where have you been?” She took a couple of steps back as if I had hit
her. “No wonder he wants to sit on my porch.”

  I also had a year’s supply of freeze-dried liver treats on the shelf inside, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Well, at least stop petting him with your gross stinky feet.” She pointed to my foot deep in the long golden fur on his shoulders. “Do you want to give him your trench foot?”

  “I don’t have trench f...” I started to say but she had already stormed off. So much for our property-wide cease-fire.

  Chapter 7 – Brianna

  I SWATTED AT THE COBWEBS and squinted into the dark shed. First her parents, then that traitorous retriever, Buddy. Dogs are supposed to be able to sniff out the bad guys, aren’t they, I thought, as I aggressively pumped up the tires on my bike.

  The road remained impassible unless I had a douchey Jeep like Brodie. I didn’t mind. A bike ride would help clear my head. I had gone in to apologize to my mom for being such a selfish jerk at lunch, but she was nowhere to be found. I stole a box of tea from her cupboard but could only find various types of hemp and oat milk in the fridge. I was old school when it came to my tea. I liked Earl Grey with real bonafide cow’s milk. If I were going to get any studying done, I was going to need the real deal.

  My bike was not cool, but it was functional – two panniers flanked the rear wheel, and dad had zip-tied a green milk crate to the front handlebars. I hummed the Wicked Witch of the West song as I pedaled down the dirt road. The gears were rusty, but they did their job, and soon enough, I emerged onto the highway and headed into Laketown.

  I needed to grow up. High school was years behind me. Could Brodie and I have matured past a high school squabble? Could we put our animosity aside and become friends again? The clenching feeling in my gut told me that wasn’t the case. ‘You need to figure out a way to get over it,’ I whispered to myself, as my thighs pumped, the shocks squeaking as I gained speed along the pavement.

  About a mile outside of Laketown I heard loud pumping bass approaching. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I glanced behind me, and sure enough, Brodie’s blue Jeep was gaining on me. I couldn’t quite make out the song that he was blaring until he was about to run me over. The SUV was filled with four backward hat-wearing jocks and their mountain of hockey bags. Brodie swerved into the opposite lane to give me a wide berth when they reached me. With the jock brigade beside me, it was easy to recognize the song, Black Betty.

  “Ugh,” I groaned and tried not to look at the cliché mobile. Thankfully, Brodie stepped on the gas when one of the guys catcalled, “Hellooooo, Red.”

  After the taillights disappeared over the hill, I pulled onto the shoulder of the road and leaned on the handlebars of the bike. My heart was pounding against my ribcage, but it had nothing to do with the physical exertion. I could ride my bike two hundred miles back to the city and not break a sweat.

  “Helloooo, Red.” The catcall echoed in my mind and I clenched my stomach, hoping that the lentil soup wasn’t going to make an appearance. It was like I had gone back in time. Although this catcall was kind of...nice? No, not exactly nice, but it wasn’t mean.

  Two years ago, that catcall would’ve been something awful, like, suck my dick, slut...or something about my weight. But that was the past, and this was now. I might have been chubby in high school, but I was never, not now, not ever, a whore. Hell, I was two years into college, and I was still a virgin.

  “Dicks.” I whispered to myself and navigated my bike back onto the road. It wasn’t until I reached the main street of Laketown, Oak Avenue, that my heart rate settled down.

  I took the long way to the grocery store, avoiding Mill Street so I didn’t have to ride by the high school or the arena. Laketown was at the height of its beauty, and I could see why so many people wanted to spend their summer here. The maple trees along the main street fluttered in the breeze next to the sparkling blue of the Casper River that ran through the middle of town. Red and white striped umbrellas lined the patio of Valerock that overlooked the harbor filled with million-dollar boats. Pretty servers ferried trays of expensive-looking cocktails to tables of cottagers wearing Sperry Topsiders. I rounded the bend and pulled into the grocery store parking lot, which for a weekday, was packed. I stuffed my helmet into the milk crate and ran my hands over my hair.

  The cool air of the grocery store was a welcome respite from the heat of the afternoon. I hadn’t brought a reusable bag, but that was okay, there was only one thing on my list – okay, maybe two. Before hitting up the milk cooler, I headed to the pet food aisle. One of the first things on my to-do list was to get Buddy back on my side. I grabbed a bag of liver bites, one of his favorites, and then my silver bullet – a marrow filled beef knuckle. That should do it. I smiled to myself as I held the plastic-wrapped bone in my hand.

  I had subconsciously been humming along to Rod Stewart when loud laughter erupted an aisle over. “Something sure is funny,” I thought to myself and I nestled the dog treats into the crook of my arm. But the hair went up on the back of my neck as the group of women cackled again. I paused, pretending to study the ingredients of Snausages.

  “But isn’t there like a ton of sugar in that?”

  “What else do you mix with rum?” A second, slightly irritated voice asked.

  “Soda?” Voice one said with a level of uncertainty.

  “Rum and soda? Ugh.”

  I could practically hear the eye-roll an aisle over.

  A third voice interjected. “I don’t care as long as it gets me drunk.”

  “You mean drunk enough to get up the nerve to talk to Brodie?”

  I knew two things at that moment. One, I wasn’t going into the party aisle anytime soon, and two, there was a good chance that I knew at least one of the puck bunnies the aisle over.

  “I don’t think he’s too good at talking.” Voice one giggled.

  I stifled a laugh. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

  “I don’t need him to be good at talking.”

  Oh, barf.

  “Didn’t you already bang one of the rookies?” The uncertain voice asked. “I heard that he doesn’t do sloppy seconds.”

  I spun on my heel and walked the other way. I didn’t need to hear another word. If there was any doubt in my mind about why I didn’t want to live in Laketown, this afternoon had proven it in spades. I rushed to the milk cooler, grabbed some local stuff, and hurried to the checkout, taking my place in the express lane.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the group of women emerge from the aisle, arms filled with bottles of mixer and coolers. I turned my back to them, but not before I saw Jenna and Greer, two girls from my graduating class, balancing bottles of Diet Coke in their arms. Shit, shit, shit. I angled my face away from the coven of evil bunnies.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” A voice from behind distracted me from the bunny bullies. I turned, but the man behind me was pointing at the woman at the till of the express line. “It says twelve items or less.” His voice was loud and deep. The woman looked at him with a furrowed brow. “It’s just...I’m in a hurry.” She gestured to her groceries.

  “I know. We all are. That’s why we all have twelve items or less.” He said it a little louder this time and pointed to the sign above the till.

  I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. Everyone in the grocery store was staring at the extremely good-looking man giving the woman a grocery store etiquette lesson.

  “He’s right,” the cashier shrugged.

  “Oh, come on,” the woman huffed, but packed up her basket and marched to one of the other checkouts, her cheeks aflame. Nobody else in line turned around to look at the man until she was out of sight.

  “Thanks,” the guy in front of me turned to thank the good Samaritan.

  “It’s just the rule.” He smiled and shrugged like it was no big deal. The rest of the express line clapped.

  Great. A bystander next to a hero – I felt like I was on stage.

  I gathered the courage to look at the group of party girls. They
were looking right at me but there wasn’t a glimmer of recognition in any of their vacant eyes. Maybe it was because they were all staring at the tall forty-something man with the kind blue eyes and perfect biceps behind me, or because they didn’t recognize the freckle-faced girl they’d fat-shamed years earlier.

  Either way, I paid for the dog treats and milk and rushed out of the store as fast as I could. With the milk, bones, and liver all shoved into the basket, I mounted the bike.

  A blast of cold air hit me as the doors to the store slid open and my eyes met Jenna’s. This time, she did a double-take. She paused and I froze as I watched her gaze go up and down my body, not once, not twice, but three times.

  Her doe eyes narrowed, and her face contorted, her red lips angled into a joker-like smile. She walked right up to my bike, picked up the bag of liver bits with the cartoon beagle on the front, and shook them. “Looks like somebody’s got her lunch all ready to go.”

  She dropped the treats in the basket and pranced off in her black workout shorts that were hiked up to the bottom of her cropped sweatshirt. The group of girls laughed, then stared at me over Jenna’s shoulder. “Heeeeey, BJ ANNA’s back in town,” Greer sing-songed.

  I had to get out of there. I pumped my legs as hard as I could, the tears stinging my eyes. A horn sounded and tires screeched behind me, but I didn’t stop. The warp speed of my getaway drew my tears towards my ears.

  Welcome home. I thought to myself. I pulled onto a side street and wiped the tears from my cheeks while I waited until the coast was clear. Back on the bike, I didn’t stop to look at the flowers or notice the trees, I just pedaled. Hard.

  The ride home was not enjoyable. I held my breath every time a car approached, hoping to hell that it wasn’t going to be full of catcalling jocks, or name-calling puck bunnies. I had just about reached Mustang Point Road when I felt the bike wobble.

  “No, don’t do this to me.” I glanced up at the sky before looking down at the tire that I knew was going to be flat. If I kept riding, the rim was going to be ruined, or I was going to eat gravel. I stopped the bike and tore off my helmet and that’s when I heard the first raindrop. Plop. Heavy on the plastic of the helmet. Heavy enough to splash my face. I closed my eyes and waited, and my day from hell didn’t disappoint. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the raindrops that first fell like teeny tiny marbles danced on the pavement, then turned into sheets of a torrential downpour.