Breakaway (13 page)

“I know,” Bud says patiently. “They hired
me.”

“Bud – are you crazy?” I ask him. “You live in Regina!”

Bud sits down beside Carla and rubs his round belly. “I’ve relocated. I’m staying with my daughter in North Portal until the end of April. Family stuff,” he explains.

Half the girls look totally confused because they don’t know Bud. But the ones who
do
know him are thrilled.

“That’s awesome, Bud,” Kathy says. “This means a lot to us.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me, Parker,” Bud says.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally. The hockey gods have thrown us a bone.

Sue briefly outlines Bud’s coaching credentials – they are considerable – then Bud addresses us.

“I’m not expecting you to win every game, but I do expect you to improve,” he says. “Let the points fall where they may. Let’s play with passion. Let’s play with confidence. Let’s support our teammates.”

“Anything else you ladies want to say – or ask – before we meet with each of you individually?” Sue asks.

Miranda raises her hand. “Is it true we’re doing a barbecue fundraiser?”

Sue threads her fingers through her short blonde hair. “Looks like it. Amy’s parents have volunteered to donate the meat.” She fills us in on the rest of the details. “How does that sound?”

“Sounds delicious,” Kathy says.

“Anything to add, Jaclyn?” Bud asks Crystal’s mom.

Mrs. Jordan smiles nervously. “Just be honest with your coaches, girls. Tell us who you want for leaders.”

Bud stands up slowly. “Go straight home after you meet with us. No texting each other as you leave. No ‘I said, they said.’ That’s going to be very important as this team moves forward.” He backs towards the door. “Bear in mind – there’s no changing your vote tomorrow or the week after tomorrow. You have to live with the decisions you make, so make the best ones you can.”

One by one Bud and Sue start taking players into the referees’ room down the hall to get input on who should be wearing letters. We’ll each have the opportunity to air our concerns, ask questions, and in the end, name some names.

They start with the younger girls and work their way up to the senior players.

“This is going to take forever,” Jennifer moans.

But surprisingly, it doesn’t. After forty-five minutes, Mrs. Jordan comes to get Amy, and it’s just Kathy and me left in the dressing room. As far as we can tell, the girls have all lived up to their promise of leaving with their parents right after the meeting.

“What do you think our chances are?” Kathy says.

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I don’t care if I wear a letter, as long as Whitney doesn’t have one.”

“I was referring to the team,” Kathy says dryly.

“I feel a lot better than I did when I came in here.” I slump back against the wall, feeling the cool brick through my T-shirt. “Bud’s going to be awesome.”

“Yes, he is.”

Silence.

You need to help her understand about Evan, my little voice says. Now is the time. The longer you wait, the harder it will be.

My pulse vibrates in my neck.

I don’t say anything.

And neither does she.

When Mrs. Jordan comes to get her, I am left alone. I sit. I pace. I stand.

“I’m not afraid,” I say to the door.

The brick walls absorb my words. I pull out my phone, tempted to check for texts from the other girls or to go to Mainpage, where some will have posted stuff already.

Mrs. Jordan’s at the door. I follow her down the hallway, which is much colder than the dressing room. I gratefully slip into the referees’ room and close the door behind me.

Sue and Bud are waiting.

“Okay, Jessie.” Sue turns over the clipboard she’s holding. “Fire away.”

I gather they’re expecting me to be full of questions, but I have only two. “Is Jodi okay to play?”

“Her GP and specialist say she is.” Sue stands up and sets her clipboard on the counter. “Jodi deserves a chance to play again.” She gives me a wry smile. “Anything else?”

“Did you have to cut Amber? Would it have hurt the team to carry
one
more forward?”

A ripple of emotion crosses Sue’s face. “It would have hurt Amber, Jessie.”

“Why?”

“She can’t play AAA,” Sue says. “She doesn’t have the physical skills or hockey sense. It wasn’t fair to ask her to give up so much of her time – hours and hours a week – to sit on the bench. And it’s not fair to put her on the ice when she isn’t as good as the other girls. Do you see?”

“I guess so,” I say.

“Notre Dame and Saskatoon and Weyburn are strong teams. To coin one of Kathy’s colourful phrases, we’ll probably get shit pumped for the first season. But even so, we need to give those younger girls an opportunity to improve, so they can be successful after you and Jodi and Kathy and Carla are gone.”

“What do you think, Bud?” I ask.

“I think any team can beat any team on any given day,” Bud says, rubbing his bald dome. “That’s why we play the games, all thirty-two of them.” He pauses and jams his cap back on his head. “Now, who would you like to have for a captain?”

I take a deep breath. “Jodi.”

–

A
ll the way home, I quiz Mom about the parents’ meeting, but her responses are maddeningly vague.

“Mr. Johnstone tried to charm the hell out of everyone, didn’t he?” I ask.

“He was persuasive,” Mom says.

“Do you think he’s going to try to get on the bench with Sue and Bud?”

“I never got that impression,” Mom says.

“Why didn’t he just send Whitney to Notre Dame?” I take a drink of water before continuing. “He can afford it.”

“I think you should stop worrying about Mr. Johnstone, and start thinking about how you’re going to balance this AAA commitment with your school work,” Mom says. “Bud’s going to run a tight ship.”

“Speaking of Bud – how come he’s moving to North Portal?” I picture Zack, Bud’s grandson. “His daughter’s marriage didn’t break up, did it?”

“Nothing like that,” Mom says. “His son-in-law’s going to university in Regina, finishing an education degree. He was living with Bud to save expenses, but Bud’s daughter was having a tough go of it back in North Portal, juggling her job and three little kids. She asked Bud to move in and help out for a while.”

“Wow,” I say.

“Sue said Bud’s been pretty lonely, since his wife passed away,” Mom explains. “This is a good move for everybody.”

“Including us,” I say.

“Including us,” Mom agrees. She doesn’t say anything else until we pull into our driveway. “When will you find out how the vote went?”

“Bud said he’d call before ten.”

My stomach starts rolling.

The gloves will come off as soon as somebody gets, or doesn’t get, an A. Sue created a monster when she put one on Whitney last season. It totally went to her head. No surprise our coaches have decided to let us vote on the letters this year.

“I wonder why your dad left the Prius parked on the street,” Mom says as we wait for the garage door to open.

Then we see Courtney and Gia. They’ve got my road hockey net set up where the Prius is normally parked, and they’re shooting on it. I notice right away Courtney’s using Rambo, my favourite weapon on penalty kills. Chopping a stick in half diffuses a power play damn quick.

“Hi Mrs. McIntyre! Hi Jessie!” Gia calls as Mom and I climb out of the Explorer. “How did the meeting go?”

“I don’t know yet.” I come around the back of the vehicle, so I’m standing right beside Courtney. “What’s up with using my stick?”

Courtney shrugs.

“Those blades are expensive, and I buy them with my own money. If you’re going to use the shaft out here, at least put on a plastic blade.” I wrest Rambo from her hands. “Next time, ask permission.”

“Sor-ry.” Courtney’s apology doesn’t sound sincere. “I didn’t know you’d be so touchy.”

“Well, now you know.” I turn Rambo over and examine the blade.

“Where did those energy drinks come from?” Mom asks, pointing at some cans sitting on the step.

“I brought them, Mrs. McIntyre,” says Gia.

“They’re loaded with sugar and caffeine.” Mom picks up one of the cans and examines the label. “Jessie and Courtney aren’t allowed to drink these.”

How refreshing to be lumped with my baby sister.

“My mom doesn’t mind me drinking them.” Gia exchanges glances with Courtney. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d disapprove.”

Mom looks at her watch. “It’s time for you to go home, Gia. It’s a school night.”

“Sure, Mrs. McIntyre. See you tomorrow, Courtney.” Gia picks up her bike, which is lying on the front lawn, and glides into the twilight.

“You know the rule,” Mom says to Courtney.

“I know
all
the rules,” Courtney says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Courtney yawns and stretches. “I’m going to bed. Okay?”

Mom points at the energy drinks.

Courtney picks them up and tosses them in the recycling bin before climbing the stairs to go into the house.

“Nighty night!” I call out to her. “Good luck sleeping after two of those!”

Courtney gives me the finger before she disappears inside, but Mom doesn’t notice.

You are
so
going to pay for that, I think.

“Gia knew she was breaking one of your rules,” I tell Mom. “She’s a bad influence on Courtney.”

“She was respectful enough,” Mom says. “Don’t be so hard on her.”

The phone rings inside, and Mom and I look at one another.

“Do you think you’ll be wearing a letter?” Mom asks.

“Judging from the talk in the dressing room before the vote, I think Kathy and Jodi are for sure,” I tell her.

The door opens. Courtney’s standing there holding the cordless phone. “It’s some old guy,” she says. “He wants to talk to Jessie.”

I reach up and take it from her.

It’s Bud.

“Tell your mom to go down to JL’s and pick up a letter,” he says. “Make sure it’s a C.”

“You’re kidding,” I say.

“I’m not. Kathy, Carla, and Jodi get the A’s. I’ll email you a list of duties,” Bud says. “I hope you like meetings.”

–
Chapter Nineteen
–

W
ednesday morning
I pick up Amber earlier than usual because she’s got a student council meeting. When I get to the courtyard, Teneil’s at our table.

Waiting.

I try to be polite to Teneil. She’s been my friend a long time, even if she isn’t acting like one lately.

“Don’t you have volleyball practice?” I ask.

Teneil gives me a smug look. “You talked to Kathy yet?”

I sit down across from her and pull my calculus textbook out of my bookbag. “Want to help me study for my quiz?”

She ignores my obvious ploy to change the subject. “Kathy’s pissed at you.” The only thing that seems to delight her more than this news is the fact she gets to deliver it.

My heart quickens. “Is that right?”

She leans across the table. “She told Miranda you got voted captain because you sucked up to the new girls.”

“Hi,” a voice says.

Amy sits down beside me, stuffing her knapsack and long legs under the table.

“Hey, Amy.” I push my textbook aside.

Teneil narrows her eyes at Amy. “No offence, Amy, but this is a private conversation.”

“No offence, Teneil, but it’s not,” I say.

Teneil glares at me. “Maybe you should think about who your
real
friends are.”

“Maybe you should think about growing up.”

Teneil picks up her stuff, swears under her breath, and stomps off.

Hell hath no fury like a scorned hockey player.

“I’m sorry,” Amy says.

“It’s not your fault.”

The other girls start drifting in a few minutes later. Kathy’s tight-lipped when she sits down across from me. Oh she
is
pissed, I think.

Everyone steers clear of the topic of letters. Instead, they talk about mice. It seems Crystal’s parents are doing a major reno, and Crystal has been banished to the basement storage room, which is frequented by the little rodents.

“It’s like living in a prison movie. I can hear them romping across the ceiling tiles at night. It’s grossing me out,” she explains.

The Rookies offer solutions: poison, sticky pads, traps baited with cheddar cheese or peanut butter. Kathy watches the girls, more like a cat than a mouse. But there’s one person she’s definitely
not
looking at.

Me.