Page 3 of Rookie Season
Back in our junior year of college, our coach was giving a speech before our first playoff game for the Frozen Four title, and announced we were going out there to win “every motherpucking game” we had left that season. We did. And the word “puck” stuck as a replacement for the F-word, to the point where it became a revered team superstition. One Penn and I intend to continue in our pro careers, because we aren’t taking any risks.
Fisher shoots a look in the rearview at me, and I tilt my chin up in agreement.
“We are,” I second. “And if you’re going to live with us this season, you’re going to join in with the tradition.”
“Pucks’ sake,” Fisher says with a dramatic sigh, but he’s smiling, and I know he’s on board. Hockey players know not to mess with each other’s superstitions. “Now, back to tonight…should we hit up SkyBar, or check out The Elbow Room? I hear it’s cool.”
“Absolutely not.”
“To which place?” Fisher asks blankly.
“Both,” I respond. “I’m not going out tonight, period.”
Penn shakes his head in dismay. “You never went out in college, Noah. You made it to the NHL; relax and have a little fun.”
Fisher holds his fist up and Penn pounds it. “Our first game’s not for another couple of days. You can totally let loose tonight and still be back in top form before the game, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he adds.
“Listen, I won’t deny you two your fun, but that’s not for me. If these asshats really think the only reason I got on first line is because of Mitch, then I’ll work even harder to prove them wrong.”
Penn sighs. “You’re going to work yourself into an early grave.”
I bristle, the comment a reminder of my parents and how unfair it was that they died so young. Quickly, I recover and pull my seatbelt across my lap. “No distractions for me. But you two have fun.”
CHAPTER 2
ALLEGRA
I would killa man for a shower right now.
Which I know sounds a bit dramatic, but thirty-six hours of cross-country driving squeezed into a two and a half day period—broken up by an overnight stay at a motel where the mattress doubled as a rock—is enough to make anyone dramatic.
How did I end up here again?
I shake my head, pushing the thought away, and refocusing on the airy, bright San Francisco dance studio I’m currently standing in, grounding myself with the reminder to stay present for the remainder of the class and act like the professional I am.
As if on cue, my cat Harry mewls from his crate in the corner, where he’s been unceremoniously posted for the duration of the lesson. He has not been shy about letting me know how much this displeases him.
Make that the professional I know Icanbe.
“Go ahead, Allegra.” Cora, the dance instructor whose class I’m shadowing this evening, gives me a nudge. “You can take this part.”
“Thanks, Cora!” I reply brightly, trying to radiate positivity.We’re fifty-five minutes into the hour-long lesson, and I’m going to take her asking me to lead the end-of-class stretching session as a sign that my orientation has gone well.
Shadowing today’s class was the last step before officially getting an offer to teach dance here, so I should be—am—super glad…but I’m sure I’ll be even more so after I finally drive over to my new apartment, shower, and get some sleep.
I can only hope that Fisher was telling the truth when he said my room came equipped with the world’s most comfortable memory foam mattress. His words, not mine.
I tighten the lilac scrunchie in my hair—which has been dry shampooed within an inch of its life—and smile at the line of expectant kiddos in front of me, peering up at me like I’m the oracle who holds the answers to all of life’s biggest questions.
“You guys did amazing today,” I tell the group of chubby-cheeked, wide-eyed girls. “And now, we get to relax and stretch out, all while feeling really proud of ourselves and the hard work we’ve just done. So let’s all get down on our mats and start with our legs wide, then we’re going to raise one arm up to the sky and…”
I go through the motions of taking the littles through a simple stretching routine, taking a moment between each stretch to compliment them on things they either did particularly well or looked insecure about.
One girl, Paige, looked a bit downtrodden at the start of class, and confided to me that she was sad because her mommy was sick today, so I lavish extra praise on her. I’m pleased when her face lights up at the encouragement from my tired, unshowered self.
Originally, I’d planned to get to San Francisco yesterday. Give myself a night to get situated in my new apartment, meet my new roommates, and get unpacked before heading to orientation for my new job this afternoon.
An overturned semi truck a couple hours past Flagstaff yesterday forced me to get a room at that disgusting motel after sitting still on the highway for multiple hours. I barely slept and was on the road again long before the sun rose this morning, but endless construction put me hours behind where I wanted to be, again.
