Authors: Maureen Ulrich
Tags: #college, #girls' hockey (or ice hockey or both), #YA, #teen, #team work, #sports, #dating, #friendship, #high school, #Saskatchewan, #sisters, #Saskatchewan, #university
Other titles from Coteau Books
in the
Jessie Mac
series by Maureen Ulrich
Power Plays
Face
Off
© Maureen Ulrich, 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll-free to 1-800-893-5777.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Edited by Alison Acheson
Typeset by Susan Buck
Cover photograph by Tracy (Kerestesh) Portraits
Published in Canada
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Ulrich, Maureen, 1958-
Breakaway / Maureen Ulrich.
EPUB-ISBN 9781550507201
I. Title.
PS8641.L75B74 2012 jC813'.6 C2012-903811-3
Issued also in print format.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012936050
Available in Canada from:
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–
2517 Victoria
Avenue, Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada
S4P 0T2
Publishers Group Canada
–
9050 Shaughnessy Street, Vancouver, British Columbia,
Canada
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Available in the US from: Orca Book Publishers • www.orcabook.com • 1-800-210-5277
Coteau Books gratefully acknowledges the financial support of its publishing program by: the Saskatchewan Arts Board, the Canada Council for the Arts, the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the City of Regina Arts Commission.
For Mom and Dad, Herman and Marlene
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Chapter One
–
I
t’s my first time
at a professional football game, and my first time wearing a watermelon. I’ve got a skullcap underneath, but juice keeps slithering down my back. “How do I look?” I ask Kathy Parker.
She turns away from the mirror where she’s been applying a green S to each cheek and stares at me, one blonde eyebrow cocked. “You look like that little Martian from Bugs Bunny. What’s his name again?”
“I don’t know who you mean,” I say.
“McIntyre, you’re pathetic. Didn’t you ever watch cartoons as a kid?” She tightens the elastic on each blonde pigtail, dyed bright green, before jamming on her own watermelon.
I don’t answer. After three years of playing hockey with Kathy, I know the majority of her questions are rhetorical.
Teneil and Miranda are waiting for us outside the bathroom, sucking on their fountain pops. From the smug looks on their faces, I know they conned somebody into buying them alcoholic drinks, and they’ve dumped them in their cups. Teneil’s wearing a green crop top and skanky shorts. Miranda’s got on a Roughrider halter and green beads in her jet-black cornbraids. Way too much chocolate skin showing on her.
Teneil beckons to us impatiently. “Hurry up!”
We don’t need to ask the attendant at the top of the stairs for directions since we’re using the Parkers’ season tickets.
I look up into the stands. It’s a scorching Sunday afternoon, the hottest day yet in August. Our seats are in the nineteenth row under the roof, but there’s scarcely a breath of wind, and the humidity is killer. I fan my program and try not to think about the moist, sticky patches between my shoulder blades, the lack of oxygen in this stifling air, and the watermelon compressing my head into an egg shape.
“It’s so
hot
.
What if I pass out on the way up?” I ask Kathy.
She smacks me on the head. “That’s what the melon’s for!”
I concentrate on every step until we finally reach Row Nineteen. The Parkers’ seats are in the middle of the section. Some guys wearing green body paint stand up to let us by.
“You ladies thirsty?” one of them asks.
Miranda and Teneil stop to flirt, but Kathy and I keep going. When we get to our seats, I sit down and take it all in – the prairie vista of browns and blue, Regina’s red brick skyline, and Mosaic Stadium’s patchwork quilt of greens. Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn around. A short, bald man who looks like he’s trying to digest a watermelon is beaming at me.
Bud Prentice, my coach from SaskFirst.
“Hey, Bud!” I stand up and give him a hug. Not a big hug because I’m too sweaty. “Kathy never said you had season tickets here.”
“I don’t. I bought these off a friend.” He gives Kathy a hug too. “Where’s your fella?”
“Sitting down there with his homeys.” Kathy gestures to a lower section.
“The Queen of the Penalty Box and the Referee.” Bud shakes his head and laughs. “So ironic.”
Kathy gives him a patient smile. “Yeah, you’re the first one to point that out.”
“You got a fella, Jessie?” Bud asks.
“Nope.”
“Evan’s a fella,” Kathy says.
“Not my fella,” I say. “Who are you here with, Bud?”
Bud turns his belly, so we can see the little boy absorbed in the video game he’s playing. “This is my grandson Zack,” Bud says. “Say hello, Zack.”
“Hello Zack.” The little guy grins at us.
“You’re cute,” Kathy says.
Teneil and Miranda squeeze past Kathy and me, balancing their cokes and now...cans of Pilsner.
“Made some friends?” I ask.
Teneil narrows her eyes at me. “What are you? The Fun Police?”
Bud raises a fuzzy grey eyebrow.
Miranda looks at Bud and puts both her drinks under her seat. “Hi, Bud.” If her dark skin could show it, she’d be blushing.
Teneil, on the other hand, tips back the Pilsner. She’s never made SaskFirst, and Bud’s never coached her, so I guess she doesn’t care what he thinks.
Embarrassed, I make the introductions.
“I remember you,” Teneil says to Bud. “You cut me last year at Zones, but I didn’t care. I play Club Volleyball.”
I don’t have to look at Kathy to know she’s rolling her eyes.
A tight smile tugs at the corners of Bud’s mouth. “Glad to hear it. Girls who play sports are more likely to finish school and stay out of trouble.” He removes his ball cap and mops his damp forehead with a handkerchief. “What was it you girls called yourselves in SaskFirst?”
“The Onerfuls,” Kathy says.
We all start reminiscing about the week we spent in Humboldt two years ago during the Winter Games.
But not Teneil. I can tell from her body language she’s ticked.
Zack tugs at Bud’s sleeve. “Grandpa, I’m hungry.”
Bud rubs his round belly. “What’re we having now?”
“Fries,” the boy says.
Bud introduces him to Miranda and Teneil.
“Hey, Zack.” Miranda holds her hand out for a high-five.
Zack rears back and smacks it.
“Zack’s from your neck of the woods,” Bud explains. “My daughter and son-in-law live in North Portal now.”
“Grandpa!” Zack says impatiently. “Fries!”
Bud sighs and sits down heavily. “The walk’s too much for me. Would one of you girls mind?”
Miranda holds out a hand. “Wanna come with us, little man? We’ll score you some fries.”
Without another word, Zack climbs over the back of the seat and leads Miranda down the row. Teneil starts to take her beer with her, but I snipe it out of her hand.
“I’ll hold it until you get back,” I say.
Teneil shoots me a dirty look.
“So tell me about Triple A,” Bud says after they’re gone.
“The league voted at their annual meeting to let us in,” Kathy explains.
Bud whistles. “Nine midget girls’ teams next year. I didn’t think the league would expand beyond eight.”
“Most teams wanted more games, so now there’ll be thirty-two in the schedule, instead of twenty-eight,” I say.
“How’ll you afford ice time?” asks Bud.
“An oilfield supply company is donating it.” Kathy spreads her hands. “We’re going to be the Estevan McGillicky Oilers.”
Bud whistles. “Very appropriate, since Estevan is Boomtown. Lots of oil money down there.”
“Dad says southeast Saskatchewan is the only place in the world untouched by the recession,” I point out.
Kathy snorts. “There you go, McIntyre. Trying to sound all grown up.”
“It’s true,” I say, sitting down.
“Big money usually means big problems,” Bud says.
“Tell me about it.” I try to waft some air under my tank top. “We go to a great high school, but there’re too many kids doing drugs.”
“I hope you girls are careful,” Bud says.
“We’re seventeen, Bud,” Kathy says.
Bud laughs. “Of course.”
“I’ll tell you what else big money does.” Kathy hovers over me, blocking what little breeze there is. “It builds a kickass rink. Did you hear about it?”
Bud nods while we tell him about Spectra Place, the brand new facility where the Estevan Bruins and our hockey team will be playing.
“Think you’ll have a decent team?” Bud asks.
Kathy steps down hard on my toes. A warning. The look she’s giving me is loaded.