Page 30 of Snowballed

Helen calls out, “Noah! You’re going to the afterparty, right?”

A few of the guys had mentioned a party at the hockey house. I’m torn. I like to get to bed early during the season, but I also want to get to know the guys outside hockey.

“I have to check with my ride.” Man, I can’t wait to get my own car and some independence. “Hey, Zoe, are you going to the party?”

Zoe blinks, like she’s not quite sure what I’m talking about. “Uh. I wasn’t planning to.”

“Don’t worry, Noah. I can drive you home. Again.” Helen is reminding me how she saved my ass once already. I don’t really want to owe her, but I do want to check out the party.

“Okay,” I say. Maybe I’ll be able to scrounge up another ride once I get there.

10

Zoe

“Why aren’t you going to the party?” Rocky asks as we change after the game.

“What’s the point?” I ask. “It’s all the same people.”

“Except Noah. Noah is new.” She slides off her elbow pads and watches me.

“I already spend most of my days and all of my nights with Noah. That’s enough.”

Rocky growls like a panther. “Rawr. Imagine spending all your nights with Noah.”

“I’m imagining it. When he’s not looking in a mirror, he’ll be telling you how great he is. Good times. Did you know that he bossed me the whole time we were on the ice?Zee, go here. Zee, cover the back door. Zee, man on. He was driving me crazy.”

“Yes, but you played really well. Coach Cray commented on it.”

I say nothing, but she’s right. Lately I’ve been too nervous on the ice, too worried about making mistakes. Noah’s commands had bugged me so much that I forgot to second guess myself. Also, is he that bossy in bed? Because that’s kind of hot.

“C’mon, all your farm chores are done now, right? So, give me one good reason you can’t party tonight. Hey, I rhymed myself.” Rocky giggles.

Besides having to wake up at 5:00am and work? “I didn’t bring anything to wear.”

“Come to my place and I’ll dress you,” Rocky suggests. That’s what I love about my teammates: we’re all big, athletic women who can trade clothes. Of course, being from Montreal, Rocky wears stylish clothes that I could never pull off. That never stops her from trying to drag me to the dark side of fashion.

“Okay, I will go. I probably won’t stay long though,” I add.

“Don’t be so hasty. You might have fun,” Rocky predicts.

I end up in dark jeans and a top that’s sparkly and fluttery. I flap my elbows up and down. “I look like a fancy chicken.”

Rocky ignores me and produces a pair of turquoise flats. “No running shoes, Zee.”

I twirl in front of the mirror. I do look better. Rocky looks amazing in a black top that wraps around her body but has sheer black sleeves. Her faded jeans are stylishly ripped in places where real work clothes never tear.

“Is there someone on the men’s team you like?” I ask.

“No. I wouldn’t date any of those guys. They’re too conceited. But there will be other guys there.”

Since Rocky attracts guys like a doe in heat, I’m sure she’ll find someone in no time.

“I wish I could flirt like you do,” I say.

“It’s not your style, Zee. You’re more the sweet, girl-next-door type.”

Translation: Zoe can’t dress herself and is very awkward with men.

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