Page 9 of Lucky Sucker

Wren pushed the tip of tongue between his teeth, pinching it sightly. “Well,” he said, glancing at me. “Including you?”

“No, just them, and I guess not including the freshmen,” I said.

His mouth moved strange as he went to biting his teeth to gnawing his lips together, mashing them around. My initial thoughts had been right about him not forming an opinion was going to hurt the team, especially when it came to writing about us. And just when I was about to leave, he answered the question.

“Well, Tyler is probably up there because he’s in goal and his stats are great, but if we’re talking defenses, I’m looking at number five. The way he throws himself in the way of the puck is amazing, but he’s also more likely to be injured, so he’s good for a game or two until he gets injured. Then there are the forwards, and not talking about you, I’d say Snipes is good, he’s got a lethal wrist, the way he can just go for goal in those high-pressure situations. But if we’re talking about players who take focus, I’d probably say number seventeen. Everyone wants to punch him.” He paused to let out a giggle. “Last season, I went to a game when he lost a tooth from body checking someone and then they didthiswith their elbow and just smashed his cheek.”

Slowly, I nodded my head in agreement with him. He had some great insights into the team. Jack aka Grinder from the way he will pin you to the boards was an easy one though, it was in his nickname. “And what about me?”

Wren glanced from me to Coach, as if he was asking permission to talk about me. “Well, you’re the captain,” he said. “You bring the team together. You’re the glue. And you’re a lucky shot. But obviously, I think being called lucky kinda downplays the skill it takes to pull off some of those shots.”

The smile that appeared on my face, warming my cheeks was irreplaceable.“How long have you been watching us?” I asked.

“I’m going into my sophomore year, so just last year,” he said. “I’m probably not that good at putting my thoughts into spoken word, but I’m a good writer. At least, my grades always said I was good at writing, and it’s what I love the most.”

From someone in their passion to someone chasing their passion, I could appreciate where he was coming from. “Ok, well, if you’re going to be reporting on the team for the paper, you need to start wearing the merch,” I said. “And that means more than just the stuffed animals.”

He flinched, pulling at the killer whale against his chest. “This isn’t—” he paused, but I wanted to hear what he had to say. “I made this. It’s crochet. And I—I made it before I came to college. One of my extra credit classes in high school was in textiles and so, I made toys like this.”

Now he’d started talking, he didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. “Sounds good. Maybe it’s a sign.”

He nodded his head, still so wide eyed as he stared at me. “Maybe it is,” he said. “I hope I get assigned to the Orcas. I prefer ice hockey over football.”

I laughed. “Everyone should.”

Being on ice was poetic, the way skates moved like a fancy pen signing its name on a contract. Way better than the brute nature of football, even if we did have our body checks and grinders.

5. WREN

The college paper, the Caldwell Chronicle met up before the semester started, and I was in the meet up, in the back of the room, watching as anxiety swelled in my throat and I was going to be given the worst assignments because there was a part of my brain that refused to co-operate and allow me to advocate for what I wanted.

Sometimes, not often enough, bouts of confidence took over me, like when Luke, the captain of the Orcas asked me about my thoughts on the team and I came out with it, full throttle, all my thoughts blurted out onto the table. It was absolute chaos because I knew I wasn’t going to be assigned to the team if I didn’t prove myself, and I really wanted the perks. Free tickets to all the matches, and maybe even get to go with them on their away games.

The paper was student-run with a couple of faculty members from the journalism and English lit departments overseeing everything. I liked seeing the teachers, hoping they would see me sat there and acknowledge me. But they never did, they probably had so much going on with the semester starting this week.

Harper Lin, the editor-in-chief stood in front of the group. There had to be thirty or more of us, so attentions were spread thin. I was a speck of a person compared to everyone else as they raised their hands to ask questions on every little thing that was mentioned in the meeting.

“Assignments have been given to students with seniority,” she said. “Followed by teacher recommendations across the campus, we want to make sure everyone is where they want to be. So, to the sophomores who are now regular contributors to the Chronicle, I want to make sure you’re all aware that you have the least amount of seniority, and you will be given any assignments that remain.”

She was basically telling me I was going to be stuck in something I wasn’t passionate about, but that didn’t even matter because I knew that I could write about anything.

“Lead journalist for our news section is Avery Johnson,” Harper said, followed by a quick applause. “The upcoming semester is going to be full of campus events, so there will be plenty of opportunity to pitch and write ideas.”

As they went down, handing out assignments, the pit in my stomach gargled and everyone glanced at me. It wasn’t the ideal way to pull focus. Everyone had bodily functions, mine was just starving after refusing to eat and only get by on a morning full of French vanilla lattes.

“Ok, we have this one coming in by special requestion,” they said, glancing at the sheet in front of them. “Wren Duffy,” she said. “Where’s Wren Duffy?”

I raised my hand and once more, the creek of all the chairs echoed in the room as everyone turned to see me. “Hi,” I said.

“Okay,” she said. “Coach Michael Sullivan for the Caldwell Orcas has requested you as the journalist for the team.”

A girl in the front row scoffed. “No,” she said. “I’m supposed to be assigned the ice hockey team. I’m dating one of their players. Come on. That insight is invaluable.”

Frozen to my seat, I was hoping for the assignment, but now that I’d been given it, those nerves were back and angrier.

“Actually, it’s best that we have someone who isn’t personally connected to the team,” Harper said. “Wren is going to be reporting for the team. Whatever you said to their coach seems to have worked. It’s not often we have the team coaches come to us, but it’s better they come to us about happy news rather than the expose they’re trying to bury.”

“It’s really not fair though, is it,” the woman said. “Well, do I at least get an assignment for another team?”

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