Page 4 of Wild Blades

I changed my mind. I like him.

“Top of the class,” I tell him proudly.

“What’s your favorite sport?” He eyes me suspiciously. “Do you think you can be smartandsporty?”

“Hockey.” I’m awesome at hockey. I can’t hide my smile. “I’m going to be both. The smartest hockey player on the ice.”

The man, whose hair color is slightly lighter brown than mine, cocks his head to the side. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” I beam back confidently. The sooner I’m drafted to an NHL team, the better. That’s my plan. Getting out of this house, away fromMiranda. I think she’ll be happier without me in her life.

The smartly dressed man looks up the stairs at my mom, who is leaning casually against the banister.

My mouth drops open.

She’s relaxed and smiling at me. Actual lips curved, teeth showing, smiling. I rub my hands into my eyeballs to check I’m not dreaming.

Once the blurred spots have faded, I realize I’m not.

She’s actually smiling. Smiling, not sneering like she normally does.

It’s real, making her look prettier.

“Well, would you listen to that, Miranda? Boy got game,” the man says, jolting my gaze back to him.

When he looks back at me again, he’s smiling too.

I don’t know what I said to make them smile, but I like the feeling that I made them both happy.

A glint of something shiny catches my eye. “I like your pin.” I point to the gold and enamel hockey stick on the lapel of his suit jacket.

“I like hockey,” he says, brushing his fingertips over the badge.

“I’m going to play for an NHL team one day.” I stand a little taller.

“Really? Who would you like to play for?”

“The Edmonton Eagles,” I reply quickly. My heart feels huge when I say that out loud. I’ll make Gretchen so proud of me.

“I’ve no doubt in my mind you will make that happen, Wade.” He stands to full height and ruffles my hair. “Good meeting you, champ.”

The man surprises me when he blows my mom a kiss, then gives her a wink before he runs down the stairs and out of the house, softly closing the door for a change rather than slamming it.

Well, that’s new.

Mom walks down the stairs and I’m secretly praying it’s not the calm before she turns into the devil himself. She’s good at playing nice and then not so nice in the same way electricity goes off during a storm. It’s on or off and nothing in between.

Surprising me, she keeps on walking. Past me, down the next set of stairs.

She startles me with her words. “He liked you, Wadey. I knew he would.”

Wadey? Holy cow, she must be in a good mood. She’s never called me Wadey.

“You should come out of your bedroom more often.” Looking away again, she sings happily away to herself as she enters the good front room I’m not allowed in.

I stare wide eyed at the back of her, trying to figure out if my mom has been abducted by aliens.

It’s the only explanation.

---