Hating the Rookie: Laketown Hockey Series Page 5

  I let the rain plaster my hair on my head, periodically pressing it back so I could see as I walked my defunct bicycle down the highway. I heard a vehicle slowing down behind me and steeled myself for the worst.

  “Miss, do you need help?”

  I turned to see the kind eyes of the grocery store vigilante behind the wheel of an old fixed up SUV and all the tension released from my body.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I need help.”

  Without a word, the man pulled over, and within seconds my bike, cargo, and myself were safely stowed in the warmth of his car. Was this man an ax murder? Based on my day, probably. But, I highly doubted that an ax murderer cared about the limits in the express checkout line.

  “Where to?” the man asked and shifted the SUV into first gear, gunning its loud engine as we pulled onto the highway.

  “Casper Cove Road,” I said. “It’s—”

  “I know where it is,” he smiled.

  This man had crinkles beside his icy blue eyes, but the crow’s feet made him look handsome.

  “Are you working at the Cove this summer?” he asked.

  “I am. Well, kind of. My parents own it.”

  “The Corbetts,” he smiled.

  I relaxed even more. He definitely wasn’t a murderer.

  “I’m Kent,” he smiled and extended his gear shifter hand.

  “Brianna.” I shook it, hoping that he didn’t mistake the rain for sweat.

  Kent turned left onto Casper Cove Road and downshifted.

  “The road is a little rough. I can get out and walk from here.” The idea of this man getting his suede shoes ruined in the mud after rescuing me seemed cruel.

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure the Land Cruiser can handle it.”

  “Pretty sure?”

  “It’s my son’s and we’re going to find out,” Kent smiled as he stepped on the gas and a giant mud puddle hit the hood like a tidal wave. The SUV didn’t hesitate, and the wipers cleared two perfect crescents on the windshield. Kent laughed. “That was exciting. Kane’s not going to be too happy though,” he grinned. I surmised that Kane must be the son that was going to be cleaning the mess.

  I directed Kent past Cabin Three. Brodie’s eyes followed the muddy vehicle as it stopped in front of Cabin One. Kent helped me unload the bike, lifting it under the shelter of the porch, and then handed me the groceries.

  “Looks like you’re going to have one happy pooch there.” He pointed to the bone. As if one cue, Buddy bolted from Brodie’s porch and up the stairs of mine, where he took a seat and stamped his front paws impatiently.

  “That’s Buddy.” I smiled at my opportunistic dog.

  “Hi, Buddy.” Kent scratched behind his ears.

  “Thanks again for the ride, Kent. The milk definitely would’ve spoiled if I had to walk all the way in the rain.”

  “No problem, Brianna. Say hi to your dad for me.”

  “Sure.” I waved goodbye and wondered how that sophisticated man and my dad could possibly know each other.

  As the Land Cruiser disappeared down the laneway, Brodie appeared beside me.

  “Do you know who that was?” he whispered.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  “Kent.” I skipped into the cabin. My phone buzzed again. Without turning back, I held up my phone. “I have to take a call.”

  Chapter 8 – Brodie

  THE HOME AND GARDEN Shows would define my house as a ‘fixer-upper’ or maybe even ‘a house with good bones.’ It was probably stylish at one point in its life – when it was built in the seventies – along with all the other houses on our block.

  Any hope of renovating the kitchen was gone the day my dad left – when I was twelve and Ramona wasn’t even a year old. It was the first thing that I was going to do for my mom when I got drafted. Next, I was going to send Ramona to private school. My mom had worked as a receptionist at the dental office in town my entire life; she didn’t make a lot of money, but she did make sure that after years of body checks and elbows to the face, I had a ten-thousand-dollar mouth full of chiclets.

  “How are those burgers doing?” she shouted from the kitchen. She was making a Caesar salad and I was in charge of grilling the burgers.

  “Almost done,” I shouted through the sliding glass door.

  The neighbor, a balding grumpy man, with an even grumpier looking wife, shot me a look. The yards between sixteen and eighteen Portage Street never had a fence until the Corbetts moved to the Cove Cabins. It was the first thing the grumpy couple did when they bought the house, after painting it and ripping up Bonnie’s gardens.

  I shook the memory of backyard barbecues and running through the sprinkler with the neighbor girl from my mind.

  “Things have changed,” my mom whispered from behind me. I often wondered if the woman could read my mind.

  “For the better,” I said, but didn’t quite believe myself. I longed for the simpler days. The days when my dad was still here, and my best friend and girlfriend were one and the same.

  “Sure, honey.” My mom wasn’t convinced of it either. I could tell.

  But they were going to get better.

  I stepped inside the house and my sister Ramona was bent over a thick book, her tongue stuffed in her cheek in concentration.

  “What are you working on?”

  “It’s my summer workbook.” She held up the light pink book. “It’s going to help me get ready for school in the fall.”

  “Is it fun?” I asked.

  She stuck her tongue out at me. “It’s math.”

  “I could help you. You know, I’m actually pretty good at math.” I flicked through the pages of the book and wondered if the math had gotten tougher since I was nine years old.

  “I can do it.” Ramona plucked the book from my hands.

  “Okay.” I smiled at her. “Clean off the table and help me set it for dinner.”

  The two of us got the table ready and we all sat down. “Now this is a summer meal.” I took the last bite and rubbed my stomach. “You’ll never guess what Bonnie cooked for us today.”

  “Hmmm.” My mom smiled. “It was almost one hundred degrees, so probably a stew of some sort.”

  “Lentil,” I laughed.

  My mom was a slow eater and picked away at her salad one piece of romaine at a time. “I heard that Bree is home for the summer.”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Heather from the office said she saw her get off the train. Said she wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t hugged Stan.” Mom’s eyes searched mine. “Does she really look all that different?”

  “She looks like Brianna to me.” It was true. I could see how others would think she had transformed, but I always saw the beauty in her, the freckles, the emerald eyes, her smile. She still had all those things, but now, an ass and tits to match.

  Mom sighed. “Are you two still at odds?”

  “We weren’t at odds mom.”

  Ramona looked back and forth between us. “Can she come and visit?” Ramona’s eyes sparkled and when she grinned, her awkward adult teeth stood out, big and choppy in her little mouth. “Of course, Mona.” Mom turned to me. “We should have them over for dinner. If you think that Bonnie can take it.”

  “Of course,” I said. “She’s doing just fine.”

  “Does Bree know?” My mom paused with her fork in her hand. “About the cancer?”

  “I don’t think so.” Judging by the way Bree treated her mom today, she had no idea about what was really going on at Casper Cove.

  “Maybe you should tell her.”

  I pushed my plate away. “Whoa, mom. That’s not my place.”

  My mom reached out to hold my hand. It used to embarrass me, but when I saw what was happening to Bonnie, and realized it could very well happen to my own mom, I let her hold my hand any time she wanted. “I hope that you and Bree patch things up. I always hoped that you two would end up together.”

  I smiled and squeezed her hand. �
��That ship has sailed, Mom.”

  “A mom can wish,” she said with a wistful look in her eyes.

  She had no idea what kind of girl Brianna had become. Seconds after telling me that she was in love with me she went and gave a blow job to some guy and then let another take her virginity. My mom didn’t know her now, just like I didn’t know her then. She showed her true colors that night, and my heart has never been the same.

  “How was practice?” she asked.

  “Good. Coach went easy on us but wants us back tonight to do some drills.”

  “He’s running you guys ragged.” My mom cleared the plates and started to rinse them in the sink.

  “It’s camp, Mom. That’s the whole point. Aaaand, it’s even more important when our practices are right before the Thunder’s Ice Time. Tanner told me that some of the Thunder scouts have been showing up early to watch us practice.

  “That’s great, Brodie.” Mom kissed the top of my head. But you know, you could always go to college. They have a hockey team there too.

  “Meh. College isn’t for me.” I helped Mom load the dishwasher. “You know that.”

  “I also know that it’s okay to change your mind.”

  “I don’t need to. I’m going to be the Captain of the Laketown Otters, then I’m going to get drafted and play pro for the Thunder. Then I’m going to get you a new dishwasher!” I grabbed my mom and spun her around, dipping her to the tune of the grinding and clanking of the mustard yellow dishwasher.

  “This one works just fine,” she laughed. “Now, go get ready for practice. Momma’s gonna need a new fridge too.” She laughed and pushed me out of the kitchen.

  PUCKS RICOCHETED OFF the boards like bullets. This morning had primarily been a stickhandling practice, my specialty. My slapshot, however, could use some improvement.

  “Raise it, B.B.,” Coach shouted. I wound up and shifted my weight from my back foot to my front foot as I swung my stick at the puck. It flew off the ice early, shuddered in the air, and dropped, sliding into the empty net.

  “This isn’t the golf course.” Coach passed me another puck. Beside me Leo was shooting rockets, the pucks practically ripping holes in the back of the net. “Don’t think so hard,” he said. “Just fucking slap it.” He wound up and repeated the exact same shot. I hated taking shots from a standstill, so I did a lap around the ice, deking around the other players, and as I skidded to a side stop, raised my stick in the air and executed the perfect shot.

  That no one saw.

  By the end of practice, my forearm was on fire. As the rookie, I had something to prove. There were three of us and I needed to shine next to the other guys.

  The buzzer sounded, but I kept taking shots until everyone had left the ice. Well, everyone except Tanner. He was superstitious about it. He had to be the last guy to leave the dressing room and the ice.

  “Come on B.B.,” he shouted as I took another shot. This time it was perfect. “Nice shot.” Tanner slapped his stick on my calf as I stepped off the ice surface. In the dressing room, I took my seat next to the rookies. After working out so hard on the ice, the dressing room felt like a sauna. I sprayed my water bottle into my mouth and then finished it off over my hair.

  “Tanner. Party at your place this weekend?” Leo shouted from across the room.

  “When isn’t there?” Tanner laughed. His parents owned a cottage on Lake Casper, but they were never there. Therefore, it had turned into the official party house of the summer.

  Everyone’s smiles dropped when Coach Covington walked in the door. Suddenly they were all busy examining their skates or stick blades. “Tanner, nice hustle out there today.” Coach tossed Tanner’s water bottle at him. “You forgot this on the bench.”

  “Thanks, Coach.” Tanner snatched the bottle out of the air and raised it like he was leading a toast at a wedding.

  Coach consulted his clipboard and then smacked his hand on the back of it. “We’re going to be short a couple of players for the exhibition game next week.” I looked up and glanced around the room to see if anyone else was surprised by this news.

  “There’s an exhibition game next week?” Leo asked. “It’s not on the schedule.” A murmur spread through the room.

  Coach smiled. “Jake McManus wants to organize a fundraiser for the minor league teams in town. It’s going to be the Thunder versus the Otters.”

  You could’ve heard snow falling from the blade of a skate onto the rubber floor. “Are you serious?” Mike Ryan was grinning from ear to ear. “They’ll crucify us.”

  “You’re practicing three times as much as those guys.” Coach’s voice reverberated through the room. “They’re spending more time on the golf course than on the ice.”

  “Who cares?” Kane Fitzgerald said. “That’s going to be some good hockey.”

  “That’s what we have to discuss.” Coach pulled the cap off a marker and wrote everyone’s names down on the whiteboard.

  The order seemed to correspond to the lines. The first names on the list were Fitzy, Tanner, Dylan, Leo, and Mike. My name was in the next set. I was a little disappointed that Mike’s was above mine; he was a sloppy and lazy player. He finished the list with a name I’d never seen before, and a murmur ran through the change room. It was hard to read Coach’s chicken scratches. It was someone named Sheer, or Sheen.

  Then, everyone’s eyebrows shot up toward the ceiling as he crossed off the top three names.

  “Coach?” Tanner, the captain, was the only one brave enough to speak up.

  Coach turned and had a wry grin on his face. “The Thunder are short a few players. The players that have been skating in their camp...” Everyone looked to Fitzy, Dylan, and Tanner, “You’re going to be wearing the Thunder’s Jersey.”

  “What?” Leo jumped to his feet. “Coach, they’re our best guys.”

  “Better get your A-game on then Lion,” Coach smiled. He rarely used our nicknames. Did he think that this was a joke? We were going to be embarrassed out there skating against the pros.

  Coach drew brackets breaking up the team into five new lines. My breath caught in my throat when I saw that my name made it into the first section.

  Holy shit.

  If I thought my smile was huge, the three guys across the room looked like they had won the lottery. Somehow the room went from silent as a tomb to as loud as an auction house.

  “Coach,” Leo shouted above everyone. He was the only one who seemed perturbed by the news. “Who is Sheen?” He pointed to the board with his stick.

  “Oh,” Coach chuckled. “New guy. You’ll meet him next week.”

  I walked out of the dressing room feeling like I was on a cloud. Nothing could bring me down.

  Nothing.

  Chapter 9 – Brianna

  A LOON CALLED TO ANOTHER across the bay. I pulled back the curtain and tried to guess what time it was based on the sunrise. It was a little game I played with myself and I’d gotten pretty good at it. The sun was fully over the horizon, but just. The sky was a light pink and the mist hung heavily right to the shoreline.

  ‘Six-thirty,’ I said to no one and hopped out of bed, slipping my feet into a pair of wool slippers so worn that my toe poked out a hole in the front. I padded to the table where I had abandoned my stack of biology textbooks at midnight and found my phone under one of the open covers.

  I winced as the display light blasted me in the face. Squinting, I was able to make out the time: 6:21.

  ‘Not bad,’ I spoke again to no one. I looked around the cabin. Buddy had been beside my feet while I was studying, but he must have let himself out sometime during the night. He was an expert at nudging screen doors open with his graying muzzle.

  “Buddy?” I poked my head out the door and looked on the porch, but there was no sign of him. I crossed my arms across my chest, tucking my hands into my armpits, hoping to conceal the fact that I was bra-less as I craned my neck to see if a certain man had spent the night in Cabin Three.

  I breat
hed a sigh of relief and released my chest when I saw that there was no blue Jeep parked in front of it.

  “Buddy,” I called out and then whistled. I listened for any sign of the retriever crashing through the bush, but the only thing I heard was more loon calls.

  I smiled to myself and went back inside to get ready for the day. I knew exactly where buddy had gone.

  I COULD SMELL THE PANCAKES before I could see the main cabin. The lights from the kitchen glowed, outlining the silhouette of my mom as she worked in front of the stove.

  “Good morning, Mom.” I opened the door gently. Buddy looked up at me from his spot beside the kitchen table. “I knew I’d find you here.” I bent down and scratched behind his ears. He groaned and his back foot mimicked the rhythm of my scratches.

  “Hi, Baby Carrot.” My mom flipped the pancakes and then turned to smile at me. The cinnamon smell in the air brought me back to mornings in the kitchen with her. I rushed to her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and rested my chin on her shoulder. We were both the same height, an average five foot five and it felt like I was hugging a friend, not my mother.

  She squeezed me tightly and then pulled back. “What was that for?”

  “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her upturned lips told me she knew exactly what I was talking about.

  “I don’t know what was wrong with me. I was acting like a...”

  I wanted to say bitch but didn’t think that my feminist mother would approve of me self-identifying as a derogatory term.

  “Child? Brat?” My mom threw out a couple of suggestions.

  I grabbed a pancake from the stack and rolled it into a tube and took a bite. “Both, I guess.” I finished the pancake in a second bite. “These are good.”