Page 99 of Hockey 101

Good morning, Andy, they chorus.

Jack makes us coffee, eggs, and toast. When we sit down in the dining room, his roommates are still there, even though their plates are empty.

Before I can lift my fork, they start in on me.

You know, I always wondered why Jack didn’t have you sleeping here, in his gigantic bed. And now I know, says Ethan. He was protecting us.

From girl cooties? I ask.

No, lots of women have spent the night in this house, brags Bergy.

But nobody as…enthusiastic as you, Swanny says.

Ethan is wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his usually cynical face. If we gave out a prize for screamers, you would win. Maybe we should get a trophy made up.

I hide my face in my hands, but glare at Jack through my fingers. This is his fault, for being too good at sex.

Guys, could you shut the fuck up? he commands. Then he eats more toast because he’s completely unconcerned. Jack Sinclair is both beloved by his friends and teased by them. He just rolls with it, so his girlfriend will have to do the same.

You should be proud, dude. I think she compared you to God. Swanny laughs.

Jack, oh god, Jack, Ethan trills in a falsetto.

My voice is not that high, I retort and sip my coffee. New to-do list: train self to make fewer sex noises. Because we will be having sex here again, since Jack’s bed is insanely comfortable.

They finally give up when we ignore them and eat. But as Ethan gets up to leave, I toss out, I’d prefer gold.

For what? he asks.

My trophy? Gold, and maybe shaped like the Stanley Cup?

Sacrilege. Ethan shakes his head, then adds, Did you know you can’t touch the Cup until you win it?

No way. I look at Jack, and he nods. Yet another crazy hockey superstition.

Once we’re alone, I tell him all about the meeting where Bryce got dismissed. Jack reacts so satisfyingly, praising my brilliant answers and cursing Bryce once more.

Andy, don’t feel sorry for him at all. He brought all this shit on himself. Besides, it sounds like the only way he could have done the job well was if you were still giving him advice, Jack concludes.

Were you the one who started the letter-writing campaign? That’s what Bryce thought, I ask.

I wasn’t even the first one on the team to write a letter of support for you. That was all Schmidty.

Grant Schmidt? Didn’t he hate my first hockey story? Anna-Lee told me the hilarious story of how her boyfriend was all ready to confront me until he discovered I was a woman.

Jack nods. He’s your biggest fan now. He reads the stories as soon as they get posted and he hated the new guy. I think Schmidty was on his high school newspaper or something, so he knew that writing a letter to the editor was the way to go. Word spread after that.

I feel a glow of satisfaction. The support letters weren’t part of a campaign, but rather the natural reactions of people who actually read the sports section. And Bryce is proven to be a vindictive idiot once more.

Then it’s Jack’s turn to tell me about his promotion to top pairing. Tom O’Donnell was being as much of a jerk as ever, but Jack finally told him off.

All I’m doing is learning and trying my hardest. It’s not like I’m scheming to take his place in the line-up. Who cares what he thinks, anyway? Jack says.

Exactly. You can’t make everyone happy, I agree.

Now that I’ve made the top pairing, I really want to stay there. I’m learning so much from Coach Norman, and now I’m getting to use it in new situations.

As you said, the only way to control that is through your play. I’m no expert, but I thought you looked amazing last night. And those Hunter College guys seemed to be targeting you. That must be a good sign, right?

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