“Hi, Rose.” My father opened the door and poked his head inside. “I’m home.”
“I see that,” I replied, and got up to give him a kiss on the cheek. There was alcohol on his breath and it was potent, but I did my best not to make a face. I guessed I was wrong and Dad wasn’t doing better at all. “Dinner’s in the oven. It’s chicken.”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, his voice flat and sad and slurred. “But I’m not feeling well. I’m going straight to bed.”
Another dinner Dad wouldn’t eat. Jim was right—I am alone. I looked hard at my father but he turned away, pulling the door shut, his footsteps shuffling slowly down the hall as the rain pounded the roof even harder. I pulled the iPod back out from under the blanket, cradling it with both hands, allowing myself the memory of Mom singing along to a song she liked. I knew she was right, that music was too important to shut out for good. I would take my time and little by little I would add it back into my life, and maybe with each song I would feel a bit more like myself again. Maybe music would give me something to feel good about again. I hoped it would, since I really needed to find that new something soon.
NOVEMBER & DECEMBER
A Sound Track for the Holiday Season
14
HOCKEY WEEK
“Ten minutes, that’s all it takes. Come on.” Krupa turned to me from the driver’s side of her car, one hand still on the wheel. We were parked outside MacAfee Arena and the first hockey game of the school year was about to start. The rainy weather had continued throughout this week and it streamed across the windows. My fingers curled around the edge of the old cracked leather seat like she’d need to pry them away. “It will be good for you. Besides, there’s absolutely no chance you’ll run into Chris. Football players don’t go to hockey games.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I just do. The play-offs start tomorrow so there is no way they will be out on a Friday night. I am going to make a lot of money this weekend,” she sang happily, and took a sip from her Coke Slurpee.
Maybe waiting alone in Krupa’s car would be more depressing than going inside and having to see other people. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go with you.”
“Fantastic,” Krupa said, and began to drumroll her hands against the steering wheel. “And then we’ll go have pancakes for dinner!”
“Okay,” I said, and laughed. Krupa had been amazing since the breakup.
She opened the door and got ready to run inside. “Let’s go,” she beckoned, and I got out, putting my arms over my head to protect myself from the rain, following her through a door with big blue letters that spelled “MacAfee Arena” across the glass. Soon the noise of a cheering crowd was audible. Krupa glanced back at me, her eyebrows raised, and I shrugged. Neither one of us had been to a Lewis hockey game so we didn’t know what to expect. We hurried through the ticket lobby and into the rink. The air was cold enough that I could see my breath and the arena was packed with people buzzing everywhere. We stood by the wall, taking in the sheer number of fans.
“Wow,” she said.
“No kidding. Who knew hockey was this popular?”
“No wonder they’re paying me a hundred bucks a game.” Krupa rubbed her bare hands together to create warmth. “Where do you want to wait for me?”
I scanned the bleachers, searching for a space high enough in the stands that I could see over the boards onto the ice. I cupped my palms and blew into them, wishing I’d brought gloves. It felt like winter in here. “I don’t know if I’ll find a spot to sit so how about we meet by the snack bar?”
“Okay. I’d better go. I’ll see you in …”—she glanced at the clock on the giant scoreboard overhead—“eight minutes.”
“Try not to fall,” I called after her. Krupa had sung the anthem a million times, but never standing on a sheet of ice. Maybe they would make her wear skates, I thought gleefully. Without turning around she waved me off just before curving around the rink and out of sight. I went in the opposite direction and climbed the metal stairs to the bleachers, the clanging of my boots against the rungs nearly drowned out by the noise. People maneuvered by as I stood at the top and sought an open seat, their Excuse me’s clipped by the shouts and cheers that filled the arena.
I saw Kecia Alli sitting in the center of the stands. She waved.
I had to respond. Kecia had seen me for sure and if I didn’t say hello I would officially be rude. She patted the open seat next to her and pointed to me. I didn’t have another place to sit anyway so I climbed even higher toward the row where she sat with Mary McCormack and Tamika Anderson, also cheerleaders. I hadn’t spoken to Kecia since my last cheer practice on the day Mom went into the hospital.
“Hey, Rose,” she said with a warm smile. “Nice to see you. It’s been ages.”
“Hey,” Mary and Tamika echoed, equally friendly. The three of them stood so I could squeeze by. I noticed Mary and Tamika wore heels, which seemed over the top for a hockey game.
“Hi, guys,” I said, and took my seat, feeling rather nervous. I opened my mouth to say something else, then stopped.
The three of them wore sympathy stares. Whether the look in their eyes was about my mother or my breakup with Chris, I wasn’t sure, and I waited for one of them to mention either of these unpleasant topics, but then Kecia took the conversation in an unexpected direction. “I’m so excited that hockey season has finally started,” she burst out. “I wish we cheered for them instead. It’s way more exciting than football. Don’t you think?”
My eyes blinked back surprise. “I’ve actually never been to a game. This is my first,” I confessed.
“Seriously?” Tamika said, the ends of her long Lewis-blue scarf brushing the toes of her shoes as she leaned forward. “You are going to love it. Nonstop action. The refs, like, rarely blow their whistles and there’s never any waiting around for those awful drags between football downs.”
“And don’t forget all the fights,” Mary said.
Tamika rolled her eyes. “She loves it when the players get in fights.”
“Really? Interesting,” I said, and felt myself smile. Their enthusiasm was contagious. Even with two years on the squad I was unaware of my teammates’ winter activities. Maybe this was what happened when you dated the center of the universe—you missed out on other things. “I’m not staying, though,” I added.
“What do you mean? Why not? You have to,” Kecia said. “Because you’ll love it. Really.”
“After Krupa does the anthem we’re off to grab food and see a movie.”
“If you wait one minute after they drop the puck you won’t be going anywhere. Cross my heart.” Kecia made an X across her chest with her index finger. “Your eyes will be glued to the ice the rest of the game.”
“You sound dedicated,” I said.
Mary nodded. “Don’t let them fool you. It’s not just for love of the game, but more like love of hot guys on ice.”
Kecia and Tamika laughed and eventually I joined in. I was starting to have fun.
Suddenly the crowd erupted into cheers and people stood up, screaming, clapping, stomping their feet.
“Speaking of hot guys,” Kecia said, pulling me up off the bench.
The two hockey teams filed out of their boxes, the Lewis players wearing white home jerseys with blue numbers and bright blue rings around the edges and the sleeves. They lapped the rink at breakneck speed and then lined up in two rows, stopping so fast they sent shards of ice high into the air. Everyone in the stands faced the American flag that hung from the ceiling at the back end of the arena.
Krupa made her way out toward the center and everyone quieted.
I was a little disappointed she wore normal shoes.
“Wait for it,” Kecia said as the crowd hushed.
At first I thought she must mean Krupa’s voice, but then every player removed his helmet, revealing faces once obscured by protective masks.
“The moment we’ve all been waiting for,” Tamika
said in a dreamy voice.
That’s when I saw Will Doniger. He was on the ice at the very end of Lewis’s line of players.
No. Way. Will Doniger was on the hockey team? How could I not have known this?
Krupa’s voice rang out but my eyes were glued to his face.
Kecia began to whisper. “The players to watch are numbers ten, twenty-two, and six. They’re the best. You know, the same as in football, like with …” She trailed off in time to avoid saying Chris’s name but at the moment I didn’t care. There was a blue number six stamped on Will’s jersey.
The cheers got louder as Krupa’s voice rose for the final crescendo until the crowd was almost deafening. Once Krupa finished, the players took off around the rink, skating in a wide circle, banging their sticks against the ice. Kecia, Tamika, and Mary clapped and cheered and whistled.
I tapped Kecia’s arm. “Am I right in thinking that number six is Will Doniger?”
“That’s him. The team lost the state championship without Will these last two years. Everyone is very happy he’s playing again.”
“Lewis lost because he wasn’t playing,” I said with disbelief.
“That’s what people say.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“He was redshirted. You know, injured. At least technically.”
“Technically?”
“Different stories were going around. Supposedly it was a back issue. Or an arm. I don’t know for sure. A lot of people are here tonight just to see if he still has it in him. He was, like, rookie of the year back when we were in eighth grade and he was a freshman. Second-highest scorer in the state. Then he just kind of dropped off the face of the earth.”
That explained why I never heard about Will Doniger, Lewis hockey star. He hadn’t played since I began high school and when I counted back the years I realized that he must have stopped the winter his father died.
Loud techno music blared over the speakers and my body automatically tensed. The urge to make excuses and leave was powerful, and besides, Krupa was probably wondering where I was by now. I half expected my former cheerleading teammates to break into a choreographed routine like at football games, and Kecia, Tamika, and Mary were dancing—like everyone else their arms were above their heads and they bounced to the beat, just not in unison. Watching them made me feel wistful, especially since they looked like they were having fun. Kecia grabbed my hand and tried to raise it above my head. “Come on, dancing is an important part of the game. It helps warm you up!”
I stiffened and pulled away. “No thanks,” I said, hoping she could hear me over the thumping. “I don’t dance.”
Kecia looked at me funny. “That’s absolutely not true and you know it. You were one of the best dancers on the squad! You love to dance. I’ve seen you.” She waited for me to say something but I didn’t. Eventually she shrugged, letting the subject drop, and turned back to Tamika and Mary.
I reached underneath the bench and felt for my bag, my fingers reaching into one of the pockets. The iPod was there, safe where I’d put it. When the music stopped, signaling the game was about to begin, each team lined up to face off on either side of the thick red line down the center of the ice. A referee stood in the middle, ready to drop the puck. I searched the jerseys for number six and there was Will, at the center of everything. Krupa must have been waiting by now, but still I hesitated. The possibility of seeing him play held me there.
“You should stay,” Kecia said.
I craned my neck to see if Krupa was by the snack bar, but again my eyes were drawn back when the puck hit the ice and number six skated so fast after it he was almost a blur. “Well, maybe just for the first couple of minutes,” I told Kecia. Will trapped the black disk, his stick flashing back and forth. Shouts of “Come on, Will!” rang out from the crowd. An opposing player shot in his direction, slamming him so hard against the boards they thundered.
I gulped. “Do you think he’s okay?”
Kecia turned to me and laughed. “You’ve really never seen a game, have you?”
I shook my head, wondering if his time as a landscaper was over due to the broken bones he’d just sustained.
“Hockey is vicious,” Kecia said. “They do stuff like that all the time.”
“What, kill each other?”
“It’s called checking,” Kecia said.
“How do you know so much about hockey?”
“My older brother played. First I was forced to go to games. Then I got addicted.”
On the ice number six went after the player who’d checked him less than a minute ago with such ferocity I almost covered my eyes. Again they smashed into the boards, but this time it was Will slamming someone against the glass. He was no doubt one of the team’s stars, and I had to admit, I was riveted.
“Krupa’s looking for you,” Kecia said, pointing to the bottom of the stands.
Now I was sure I couldn’t leave. Quickly, I pushed by Kecia, Tamika, and Mary, who bent to see around me so they didn’t miss anything. “I’ll be right back,” I said, and ran down the stairs. “Krupa,” I called out. She saw me and smiled, automatically moving to leave, so I caught up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Wait,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I want to stay.”
Krupa turned and stared at me hard, curiosity in her eyes. “Really.”
“Yeah. I’m kind of having fun. Sorta. I guess.”
“At a hockey game? By yourself?”
“Well, not exactly. I ran into Kecia and a few other cheerleaders. Come sit with me.”
“Um, definitely not. I have a football game tomorrow if you recall. That’s two too many sporting events in one weekend for me.”
“Do you care if I bag on our plans? I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t want—��
“Please,” she cut in. “You don’t have to apologize. I can handle a night on my own.”
I smiled. “Thanks for understanding.”
“Kecia’s nice. And you haven’t spent time with the cheerleaders in ages. I think it’s a good thing.”
“Hanging out with them is less weird than I thought it would be.”
“That’s great. But I’m going to leave now,” she said, bouncing up and down as she tried to warm up. “It’s freezing in here.”
I gave her a quick hug. “Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Of course,” she said, and we parted ways.
The rest of the night, three periods of hockey players crashing, racing, and almost killing each other to get behind the puck, to take the perfect shot at the goal, fronted by a goalie so padded and monstrous he looked like something out of a horror movie, my eyes never left Will, whether he was on the players’ bench for a breather or in the penalty box for doing something violently against the rules. The constant movement on the ice, how aggressive it was, took me in and kept me.
“Go to hell, ref,” Tamika shouted, in the company of other, slightly more vulgar catcalls around us as the penalty clock was reset for a Lewis player. She turned to me, a smile forming on her lips. “What? Don’t give me that look. I am not in uniform right now.”
I laughed. “I wasn’t giving you a look. Yell whatever you want. I’m not the cheer police.”
When the final buzzer rang and the crowd let loose a frenzy of cheers on behalf of Lewis’s win, I was almost disappointed—I didn’t really want to leave. Amid a rising tally of penalties, Will scored twice. Watching him out there was pretty amazing and for a couple of hours I’d forgotten about everything else: my responsibilities, the sadness about my mom, my breakup with Chris. I’d needed this, though I didn’t know it until tonight.
“Do you want a ride home?” Kecia asked as she gathered her stuff from under the bench and we began to file out of the stands.
“Oh. I guess I do. I hadn’t really thought about how I’d get home after Krupa left. Thanks,” I said, as much for the offer of a ride as for her pushing me to stay tonight. We reached the bottom of the bleachers and an interesting id
ea popped into my head. “Hey, do you know where the players come out after the game? Or don’t they?”
I suddenly wanted the chance to congratulate Will. I wanted to tell him how much fun I’d had tonight. And I wanted him to know I’d seen his game. Though maybe I was just being crazy. “You’re probably leaving right away, though, right?” I added. That this was likely made me feel relief.
“We’re not going anywhere for a while. We usually hang around and talk to people so you’ve got plenty of time. The players come out down there.” She pointed toward the far end of the rink below the stands. “If you walk in that direction you’ll see signs for the locker rooms and people waiting outside. We’ll be in the ticket lobby.”
I hesitated. Will and I hardly knew each other, and then, he might get the wrong idea. But my curiosity about meeting Will Doniger, star hockey player, to see if he was any different from the boy I saw at the house eventually won out over my uncertainty. “Okay, thanks,” I said, and headed toward the crowd of parents and girls lingering at the back of the rink. One of the mothers smiled and waved me over. She had two young girls with her and she seemed familiar but I couldn’t quite place her.
“Rose,” she said when I was close enough to hear. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t remember me. I’m Cindy Doniger. Will’s mom? This is Jennifer”—she placed her hand on the shoulder of the taller girl—“and this is Emily. His sisters.” The girls were fidgeting, distracted by all the activity around them.
“Hi,” I said. “Nice to meet you. Or, I guess, nice to see you again?”
“I knew your mother,” she explained, and I recognized the mix of apology and sadness in her voice.
“Oh.” I never knew what to say when this subject came up.
SURVIVAL KIT Page 7
