by Anna B. Doe
“You really have to stop doing this,” he chuckles.
“You really have to stop just showing up,” I mutter crossing my hands over my chest. “Weren’t you supposed to be on your way to school?”
“And why did you come out?” he challenges.
Sticking my chin in the air, I narrow my eyes at him, my mouth closed shut. There is no way I’ll admit what Mom told me and that I don’t actually want him to leave without finding out what he wants.
Derek laughs softly looking at my stubborn stance. “Okay, I just wanted to give you this.”
My fingers clench around soft material that is shoved into my hands. I look down at the white shirt. “What is this?”
He squirms under my confused, yet watchful stare. And if I’m not imagining it, I think I can see traces of redness creeping up his cheeks. “My jersey.”
My heart skips a beat before starting to race rapidly. “And why would I need your jersey?”
“God,” he groans in frustration. “Can you be like a normal girl and just take the damn thing?”
Simply raising my brows, I stare at him, waiting for my answer.
“Okay.” He nods. “Yesterday, after I got home, I was thinking about all of that. How Sanders invited you and shit. I didn’t want you to wear his jersey, and he would do that just to fuck with my mind, so I came here and brought you this.”
“Why should I wear anyone’s jersey?” I frown at his admission, completely confused. “I have my own clothes, you know.”
Derek looks at me, looking for god only knows what, but when he doesn’t find it, he looks in the air muttering, “This girl...”
“Derek?” I shift my weight from one leg to the other waiting for his answer.
He looks at me, and for a few long seconds, we simply stare at each other. “Team colors? School spirit and all that shit.” He relaxes a little. “Take your pick.”
I narrow my eyes at him, not knowing if that’s the real reason, or if he’s hiding something.
“Okay.” I nod, watching his smile spread as he takes one step closer to me.
His hands are still cupping mine. “I should get going now, or coach will have my ass.”
“You definitely should go then,” I agree. “And I should go back inside. I still have to blackmail Brook into going with me.”
Neither of us moves away.
He’s in my personal space, so close that his wide frame is blocking my view of the front yard. His clean, masculine scent surrounds us, and it smells so nice all I want to do is get on the tips of my toes and bury my nose in his neck and inhale him.
“Going?” I remind him with a slight tremor in my voice. If he doesn’t leave soon, I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist doing just that. Talk about being freaky.
“Right.” He smiles. “See you later.”
“See you later,” I take one step back. But before I can even attempt to move a muscle, his lips are down on mine. Hard and fast. And then he’s gone while I keep standing in front of my front door looking at his retreating car.
The door opens behind me. I turn around, preparing some explanation, only to find Brook leaning against the frame looking at me with a big, goofy smile. “So you and King making out on your front porch in broad daylight?” she asks with one raised brow. “I didn’t expect that from you, Lia.”
“Ohh, shut up.”
“You were right.” I glance quickly at Jeanette before returning my gaze to the ice. “This is fast.”
“And violent,” Brook grumbles next to me, but I think she secretly likes it. “Get that fucker, you dumbhead!”
You see what I mean? She’s got so into it in no time, blending with the roaring crowd around us.
I, on the other hand, am transfixed with the movement on the ice. There is no stopping, and everything happens in a heartbeat.
One moment they are standing right in front of us—as it turns out Max got us tickets right there in the first row, he even got one for Brook although she never said she’s coming—and in the other they are on the other side of the rink, chasing that black thingy, (I think it was called puck or buck or something like that) all over the ice.
A long time ago, somewhere in the first ten minutes of first period and now we were in third, I stopped counting the number of times somebody crashed into the plexiglass or fell on the floor. It happens so much I’m surprised they can still stand on their skates, much less skate from one part of the rink to other in a few short seconds.
“Yeah, he is kind of slow tonight. I don’t understand why,” Mr. Sanders laughs at Brook’s outburst.
I still can’t believe Max didn’t tell me his Dad was coming with us! He is so going to hear me later. I don’t know who was more surprised when we met at the school parking lot—Mr. Sanders to see Brook and me there, the two of us when we saw Max’s exact, although older, replica, or Max when he entered the rink to do a few warm-up laps and saw Brook sitting next to me.
She put a good fight, but thanks to Mom, she didn’t stand a chance. I’m sure that if Brook didn’t surrender in the end, Mom would have thrown her out of the window. She was that excited for us to go and do something ‘fun’.
Her words, not mine.
“If this is slow, I don’t know what’s fast,” I defend him, although he is keeping secrets from me.
Our school is leading with two goals scored by Max and Derek, while our opponent has none, and only a few short minutes are separating us from the end of the game.
We watch in silence—if you can call silence the music blasting in the stadium but at the same time it’s muffled by the cheer of people—as the game unfolds.
Seconds tick down, but the action doesn’t slow. If I learned something today, it’s that hockey players never slow down or give up. They are going to skate until their last breath or last second, whichever comes first. And when one team scores the goal they are pumped up to score more, but the other team doesn’t get discouraged, they keep on moving and fighting to succeed.
One of our guys has the puck-buck. He skates and sends it flying to Andrew, who’s on his left, but there are two other guys on him so he slides it to Max.
I’m sitting at the end of my seat, my hands nervously clenching and unclenching as I bite my lip and look between the clock and guys on the ice.
Just as I’m thinking he will do it, another guy crosses into his way, and I want to groan in frustration.
Derek
In the corner of my eye, I see the clock counting down the time. I can even hear it tick in my head, and it’s such an irritating sound.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Yes, we already won, but that doesn’t mean we will pass the chance to score because we are safe.
Every goal counts just as much as every game counts.
I wrestle the guy off of me and start skating like the devil is at my feet. I see Andrew get cornered, and I see Max’s blurry form pass next to them with a guy at his feet catching the puck and leading it to the goal. In one slide, the guy is in front of him, impeding continued movement.
Sanders’ keeps the puck at the end of his stick just long enough for me to move closer. It’s like it’s in a slow motion; he feels me there, and with a quick move of his wrist, the puck goes over the ice to me. I’m so into it there is no slowing me down.
It’s me against the goalie, which means that the other guys do their job of keeping other players off my tail. He stares at me, ready to defend his territory, but I’m not about to miss my chance.
The shot is quick and hard. It goes straight between his skates and into the net. The light on the goal flashes, and the buzzer rings signaling the end of the game.
I barely manage to turn around avoiding the goal myself, but instead, I crush into the boards. I don’t get much time to breathe because soon my teammates are all crashing into me, singing and shouting, celebrating our first win of the season.
A huge smile spreads over my lips. We jump around, patting each other
on the heads, shoulders, and some even asses. Sanders comes to me last. We look each other in the eyes, visors standing in our way, and give each other a nod in acknowledgment. Maybe it doesn’t seem like much, but for us it is. If it wasn’t for him and that weird connection of ours like Andrew likes to call it, we wouldn’t have scored that last goal.
After a few minutes, when everything calms, we do a circle around the rink thanking the referees and congratulating our opponents on tough game.
As I’m going around I pass by the girls.
Amelia is standing there with Brook, Jeanette, and an older dude I assume is Mr. Sanders. She is standing close to the glass and has a big smile on her face as she looks at the ice. I come closer and wave at her. She waves back, her smile growing bigger which makes my smile widen.
I can’t help but notice that, although she’s wearing her jacket, it’s left unbuttoned and underneath she has on my jersey.
We return to the locker room where somebody has already turned on the music to the max. “The Winner Takes It All” is blasting through the speakers, and everybody is having fun. It may be only the first game, but the first game sets the tone for the rest of the season. Everybody knows that.
Coach congratulates us and gives us a brief speech about not getting too cocky and lazy now and that he’ll see us Monday morning for practice. I quickly take off my gear and go to the shower with the rest of the guys. Everybody just wants to get out of here and go celebrate.
After taking a fast shower, I put on some clothes, put all my stuff in the bag, and leave. Dad said he could come to the game, so I expect him to wait for me outside like always.
I see him almost instantly, standing next to his SUV. His back is to me so he can’t see me but he also seems focused on whomever he’s talking to. As I come closer I hear him laugh.
“Yeah, it was a good game. I didn’t know your son also plays hockey,” Dad says with a big smile. “You should have called once you decided to move.”
“They sure did. This will be a good season for them, I can feel it,” the other guy agrees. “It all happened so fast with transfer and everything. We barely settled down.”
“Once you are fully settled, you have to call me. We can do dinner sometimes.” He turns around when he hears me approach. “There he is, MVP of the game.” Dad claps me on the back. “That was one good game, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Just then, I notice Jeanette, Brook, and Amelia also standing there. “I’m missing something?” My smile is light, but I’m sure Dad can see the confusion on my face.
“Ohh, yes. This is Samuel Sanders,” Dad introduces us, and we shake hands. “He’s Jeanette’s and Max’s dad. We went to med school together.”
I can’t believe it. What are the odds? The only guy that I can’t stand to be in the same room with, the guy that wanted my spot on the team and that’s messing around with the girl I want, is the son of Dad’s old friend. I want to groan out loud, but I suppress the urge.
At that moment Sanders decides to show up.
He greets his Dad and then goes straight for his sister lifting her in the air and making her squeal.
“Nice game. Now put me down, you dumbhead!”
The sound is so girly and carefree that I have to look twice to confirm if this really is his sister, but he lets her down almost as quickly as he picked her up and does the same with Amelia.
My fists clench at my side, and I grit my teeth. All I want to do is go over there and take his hands off of her, no matter how much force I have to put in. The more, the better.
Dad coughs softly in his hand, drawing my attention. He’s giving me a curious look, but I glare at him, ignoring whatever he wants to tell me.
“Don’t even try!” Brook warns him, pointing her tiny finger at Sanders. His grin is big as he takes one step towards her, but she glares at him and starts walking backwards. “I’ll see you in the car, Lia.”
Then she turns around and almost runs away. Sanders stands there, looking after her and shaking his head like he can’t believe she’s being so silly to run from him.
“So guys,” Dad looks between all of us, “any plans for tonight to go and celebrate your win?”
“Don’t we always, Mr. Sanders?” Andrew puts his hand around my shoulder. “Pizza at Charlie’s, and then there is a party later at my place.” He looks around, pointing a finger at everybody. “I expect you all to come. Even you, Dotty.”
“Andrew,” I say in a low voice. My hand goes around his shoulders, squeezing him in warning.
“We’ll be there,” Sanders agrees.
“Brook and I will skip.”
“What? Why?” I turn to look at Amelia. I was hoping for her to go and make it interesting, but now I have no desire to go at all.
“Brook barely agreed to come to the game.” She sighs. “And I promised her we’ll have a girls night afterward. So we are going back to my place to watch a movie of her choice.”
“Such a party pooper.” Andrew shakes his head. I don’t know when was the last weekend he didn’t have a party at his house. The whole concept of staying home and doing nothing on the weekend is as foreign to him as French. “I’ll see the rest of you later,” he walks away, waving over his shoulder at us.
“I have to go too.” Amelia nervously looks back at her junk of a car. “I’ll see you all on Monday.” Her dark brown eyes meet mine, and I see color wash over her cheeks. “That was a good game.” She looks me straight in the eyes. This is only for me, her eyes say as much. Not Sanders. Not Andrew. Hell, not even all of us. But me.
“Thanks.” I wink at her. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I watch her go to her car. She gets in and starts it. I see her and Brook talk about something before she gets out of her parking space and drives away.
Not long after, we all say our goodbyes. Dad and Mr. Sanders agree to stay in touch and have dinner soon, and I really hope he doesn’t expect us kids to be there too; that would be way too awkward.
Amelia
“Not you again,” I hear Brook grumble from the hallway. Groaning, I let my head fall and hit the counter. Popcorn pops in the microwave, and the smell of butter fills the room.
Again?
What the hell is wrong with these people? I feel like I’m living dejavú, like I’m in a vortex and one day is put on repeat, happening over and over and over again. There is no running away from it. There is no escape. You can only live it over and over until you figure out what you did wrong to deserve this kind of thing happening to you.
“Do you really think I would be here if I had a choice?”
Jeanette.
What is she doing here?
She isn’t who I expected to be at the door, but then again, it seems like Brook has a special kind of attitude saved exclusively for Sanders twins.
Sighing, I lift my head off the counter and go to the hallway before these two start a fight.
“Oh, poor miss rich girl. She didn’t have a choice.”
“Brook.” My voice is low and calm, but she can hear the warning in it. Turning around, she looks at me and rolls her eyes. The palms of her hands are outstretched in surrender.
“Did you invite her?”
“Max decided I’m not big enough to be home alone so he dropped me off before going to the party,” Jeanette answers for me. Her chin is lifted high in the air, hands crossed over her chest.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Unreachable.
These are the first words that come to my mind when I look at her now.
Jeanette is wearing skinny jeans and a tight fitting purple sweater with a leather jacket over it. Her sleek black hair is falling to her shoulders, and she is barely wearing any makeup except on her lips. Dark purple lips make her light eyes stand out even more and match her sweater perfectly. Lips that are set in a tight line. She expects us to show her the door, I realize. I can see it under the facade she put on.
Jeanette Sanders, tough and mighty girl on
the outside, is waiting for us to close the door in her face. She doesn’t even want to give us a chance not to do it. She’d rather be alone all the time than risk being left aside or ask somebody for something.
She’s all the things I said before, but her brother is right. There is more to her than meets the eye.
Softness that can’t be seen.
Kindness that only a few can understand.
Breakable heart.
“You don’t have to worry. I’ll give him a few more minutes to get to the party, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“How are you planning to get home?”
There is no car parked in my driveway, so I can only suppose that Max took her car to the party. What better way to make sure she stays where he wants her to?
Jeanette shrugs, her mask carefully put in place. “I’ll walk.”
“What?” I ask, surprised. Brook groans behind me. “You can’t walk,” I tell Jeanette, and then turn to look at my best friend. “She can’t walk home.”
“You are doing it again.”
“I don’t care. Jeanette, you can stay with us. It’s a girl’s night. You are a girl so you qualify.”
“You don’t have to be nice.” Jeanette rolls her eyes at me, her hands tightening around her midriff. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“You are not going home. End. Of. Story.”
I cross my arms over my chest, staring them both down. Let’s see if they’ll dare to defy me. I may be a goody-goody as Andrew likes to say, but when I decide on something there’s no changing my mind.
Jeanette can be a bitch sometimes, but she’s not that bad. Deep, deep down anyway. And Brook should start to open her heart to other people no matter how messed up her life is.
There is a beeping sound coming from the kitchen, so I use this as an excuse to turn and walk away.
“Go to the living room and get comfortable!” I shout over my shoulder. “Brook said she needs her fix of Isaiah, so we’re watching Teen Wolf.”
