Page 87 of Facing Off
No.
My sisters were sometimes really annoying, but I couldn’t imagine life without them. They’re the ones that came up with the idea to bake stuff and sell it door-to-door to raise the money. It kind of worked, in that people looked at seven kids on their porch pleading for ten dollars per misshapen cookie and some hearts got stirred. We made a quarter of what the camp cost in a week. Our neighbor gave us a loan to cover the rest.
I remember my mom promising she’d do his yard work for the year and thinking to myself, one day it’ll be different.One day, I’m going to have so much money, I’ll be able to take care of all of us.
At twelve years old, I hadn’t figured out how exactly to get there, but I hoped and wished and prayed hockey could help. Thatthiscamp could take me one step closer to becoming the kind of player that got signed to play professionally one day.
But first, I had to get to Montreal. On the way there, the plane started rocking back and forth. It didn’t stop, and not knowing what was going on, thinking we were about to fall out of the sky, and terrified that I’d never see my family again, I threw up.
“What’s that smell?” our coach asked once the turbulence settled. He was in the furthest row back, behind all the kids. Some I knew, and some I didn’t. Boys from different towns, craning their heads and looking over their seats.
“Puker!”
“Ew!”
“Gross, did you just throw up?!”
Everyone laughed, and the coach tried quieting them down, but he was also busy flagging a flight attendant for some towels.
I shrunk as small as I could in my seat, and the kid next to me spoke up. The one who’d ignored my conversation attempts up to that point. Maybe because he was shy. “It was me. I threw up onhim.”
Everyone else was too busy jeering to hear me as I argued, “Don’t say that…You don’t have to… They’ll call you names.”
The boy rubbed the side of his head, going over his buzz cut. “It’s okay. I’m used to not having any friends.”
My clothes were a mess. I was still so embarrassed and upset about what happened, but another emotion clogged my throat and made my voice come out funny. “I’ll be your friend. What’s your name?”
“Jesse.”
Fast-forward to being on the Vancouver Wings, and we fly all the time. Dmitri calls me extra annoying on flights, always talking too much, always laughing, always making shenanigans go down.
The truth is, I’m hiding just how much I hate being in the air, more so when the flight isn’t smooth. It’s why I look up the weather every time I board with this impending sense of doom squeezing my chest.
Today was supposed to be good. There wasn’t supposed to be a storm, so why is rain coming down so hard that the clouds outside seem blurred? My elbows press into my sides as I cling to my grin. At least there’s no anxiety on my face. Nothing shows how I’m really doing as my lungs scream for air.
I should breathe now. Soon. Once that thunder stops—fuck—but it feels like something’s choking me?—
I’ll suffer through it?—
A soft palm touches my cheek, redirecting my attention away from the window. My eyes widen. She didn’t….
She did.
Sonya stands in front of me, her hand already pulling back as if she got singed. Her mouth parts like she doesn’t understand what she’s doing herself.
The plane tilts to one side.
My own anxiety blinks out. In its place are protective instincts raging into overdrive.Safe.Make her safe. I’m notthinking, just grabbing her by the waist and trying to get her to safety as quickly as I can, so she doesn’t go crashing anywhere. That means pulling her down until Sonya is crushed against my chest. My arms form an X across her front, locking her in tight.
I’m her seatbelt now.
She’s in my lap.
35
SONYA
It takesa full twenty seconds to come to my senses and realize:
