Page 8 of Slapshot
“Couldn’t you find something else? Hockey players are the worst and now our weekends are ruined. What about the soccer team? They’re not tools and I could come with you and help.”
I chuckle lightly. As if it’s as easy as snapping my fingers and getting any job I want. Don’t I wish. “No, they already have one. Equipment manager jobs hardly ever come available. I lucked out that the hockey team had an opening. Besides, I could do this job in my sleep.”
“Sounds like a nightmare. Be careful. Don’t let the sweat and pheromones make you dumb.”
“I will be fine.”
She tilts her head and purses her lips.
“I solemnly swear not to fall for a hockey player.” I raise my hand as if I’m taking an oath.
“If you say so. Go put something on from my closet. We’re going out andI’mpaying.”
“No, I don’t feel up to it.”
“Is this about Dylan? You can’t hide from him forever.”
“No. Although I did see him and Chastity on the way here.”
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing, I pretended I didn’t see them. They were walking ahead of me, holding hands.” I hate how happy they are. No, that’s not true. I hate how happy they are with zero regard for what their relationship did to me.
“The best revenge is moving on. Look at the back of my closet. That’s where all the really skimpy dresses are.”
“They aren’t why I can’t go out. I have no money.”
“I’ve got it. If this is our last Friday night without hockey, I want to enjoy it.” She winks playfully at me. Her green eyes are bright and big. Lashes coated to perfection and her lips are painted in this season’s new shiny red. Vivian is always meticulously put together. Even her casual wear is expensive and trendy. She’s the quintessential rich girl to everyone else. To me, she’s a girl projecting one image and hiding all her insecurities. It’s the number one thing we have in common. Well, that and our habit of doing exactly the opposite of what’s expected of us.
“I can’t believe I’m going to be working with the hockey team. This year just keeps kicking my ass.” I shake my head. “I need a night in. Just the two of us and absolutely no talk of hockey.”
“A night in? No way. This is your last night of freedom. Let’s celebrate!”
I don’t give in.
“Fine.” She huffs a sigh and sticks out her bottom lip. “We will stay in, but tomorrow after the game, I’m treating you to a night on the town.” She lifts her glass to cheers. “You got a job!”
I’m pretty sure she’s faking her excitement, but I still love her for it. Hopefully some of that fake enthusiasm will rub off on me.
4
Kaitlyn
Saturday morning, I meet Coach Garfunkle in the equipment room. It’s down the hall but attached to the locker room. Some of the guys are already here dressing for their morning skate. They won their game against Michigan last night and today they play Northeastern University.
“How long have you been without a manager?” I ask as I take in the state of the room. It’s clear there was once some concept of organization, but it looks like it was long abandoned.
“Two weeks. Alec, the last manager, had planned to be gone one of those weeks, so we didn’t realize he wasn’t coming back at first.” He moves to a desk hidden under a pile of papers and snatches a tablet off the top. “Everything you need to know is on here. Alec created checklists for home and away games. He has information on each player’s preferences, and probably a bunch of other stuff I don’t know about. He was thorough, the guys on the team loved him. He really kept us up and running.”
“Great. No pressure.”
“I have a good feeling about you. You have a red aura. It’s dim and there’s a lot of darkness surround it, but it’s there.” He squints his eyes and studies me. I dumbly look around myself like I expect to see colors emanating from my body.
“Thank you?” I have no idea if that’s the sort of thing you thank someone for.
He keeps staring for a beat and then straightens and gives me a big, cheeky smile. He digs something out of his pocket and holds it out to me. “I almost forgot. This is for you.”
I stare at the white and blue rock in his palm.
