Page 74 of Hockey 101

That’s a straight-up lie, since Andy is always on top of her studies. I suspect her mom knows that too. Should I be eavesdropping? We’re sitting two inches apart, so it’s hard not to. But I pick up my economics textbook and pretend to read.

Andy rubs her temple. Well…actually, I have a new boyfriend. My ears perk up. His name is Jack Sinclair. He’s a hockey player. From Canada. And he’s very nice.

I grin and do a little shimmy. Andy bops me on the thigh and signals me to shush.

Yes. He plays defence.

Another pause, then she says, Okay, I’ll send you one. Talk to you later.

She disconnects and lets out a long sigh.

You told your mom about me? Things are getting serious, I say gleefully.

Ugh. It was a defence mechanism. She wanted me to come back for part of the weekend, instead of being alone here. So, I sacrificed you on the altar of privacy.

I wish I could go home for a weekend. I miss my family like crazy. But I’ll get to see them at Christmas. I only wish that Andy could come home with me.

She scrolls through her phone. You’re the one who’s always taking photos of us. Do you have a nice one I could send my mom?

I pull out my phone and select some and forward them to her. Why are you sending a photo? Did you want to show her how handsome I am? I joke.

Andy makes a face. It’s my own fault. Once she was nagging me about dating, so I showed her a photo of an indie musician and claimed he was my boyfriend. I didn’t know she was going to show it to other people.

I laugh. Hey, if you did want to go home for Thanksgiving, I could drive you for the day. I’m not sure exactly where her parents live, but I know it’s somewhere in Minnesota.

Did you not hear me making excuses? Look, I love my parents. But going home for holidays is like the festival of microaggressions.

What happens? I ask.

Boom, Andy goes off. It’s a bunch of little things. Like my Aunt Ellen. Every time I see her she mentions her son’s one Hmong friend. I’m not sure if she thinks I’ll know him or she’s showing off that her kids aren’t racist. And my Uncle John tells me how lucky I am that my parents chose me. He must think that adoptions are like shopping at Amazon or something. But if I complain about things like that, my parents say I’m being overly sensitive.

I pull Andy into my lap and wrap my arms around her. The last time I saw her this upset was when one of her profs complimented her on how good her written English was. Like I haven’t lived in this country my whole life!

I hug her tightly, and we rock until she relaxes. There’s really nothing I can say in this moment that would ease her pain, so all I can offer is physical comfort.

I know people aren’t trying to be mean, but it hurts when they make me feel different. Her voice is muffled since her head is buried against my chest.

Some people want to be different. Like Dawn and all her hair colours, I point out.

I can feel Andy nodding. I don’t mind being singled out for things I’ve actually accomplished. Like if people pointed and said, ‘There goes the person who wrote that amazing article in the Messenger.’

That seems like a long shot to me, but I get what she means. I like it when other students congratulate me on a goal or good play. But I don’t like it when people fawn all over me just for being on the team. It feels fake.

Just then there’s a knock on her door. Andy sighs and gets off my lap to answer it. She only opens the door partway, so I can’t see who’s there.

Hey, Andy. I heard you have a list of tutors and stuff. I need some help with my stats course, a woman says. The voice is familiar, and not in a good way.

Oh, sure. I can send you the resource link. But if you’re having issues with a specific topic, it might be better to ask your course’s TAs. They’ll have suggestions too, Andy offers politely. She has so much patience with her residents.

I tried. My TA is kind of a jerk, the mystery woman replies.

Then it hits me—that’s Jenny. I react by sliding away from the doorway but accidentally knock my textbook to the floor. The noise causes Andy to turn and Jenny to peer inside.

Jenny stares at me, then at Andy, then back at me. Oh my god. Are you guys going out?

Uh, yes, Andy admits.

Even though Andy is the one answering her, Jenny’s gaze stays fixed on me. And you met because of me?

---