by Cate Cameron
I had all the justifications lined up. I didn’t have a lot of friends because I didn’t have time for a lot of friends. It was good that I only ever talked to Oliver in this class, good that he was as studious as I was, because that way I wasn’t distracted from the teacher. I needed to do well in this course and I needed to actually understand and retain the important things I was learning. I was doing something with my life. I had a direction, and my eyes were on the prize.
All that was true. But when I heard a burst of laughter from the back of the room, heard Chris’s voice rise above it all and say something about how the cow had loved it, I didn’t roll my eyes and feel irritated like I normally would have. Instead, I felt kind of sad. And I wondered, I think for the first time, just how much I was missing by keeping my eyes fixed so intently on the future, rather than taking the time to look around where I was right then.
…
“Hustle!” one of the coaches yelled, and I groaned, at least in my head. I didn’t have enough breath to actually groan out loud. Instead, I gasped for what oxygen I could find and launched myself down the ice again, pushing with all the power I had left, driving myself forward, charging, fighting. In other words, I hustled. I might not be the hardest-working player on the team, but at least right then, I was making an effort.
I reached the far end of the ice and turned fast, racing back in the opposite direction. Only Tyler was in front of me, and Tyler was a center, and the team captain. It was his damn job to be ahead of me. I didn’t mind getting beaten by Tyler. But I could sense Christiansen, the rookie center, just over my left shoulder, only a half stride behind me, and that gave me the jolt I needed to keep racing, keep pushing. My legs felt like they might break right off my body, my lungs were on fire, and I damn well kept going. No way was I getting beat by a rookie.
I managed to stay ahead of him, crashing into the boards rather than putting my knees through the strain of stopping short at that speed, and Tyler peered up at me from where he’d collapsed off to the side of the drill, looking like he was trying to keep himself from puking. He grinned at me, and I shook my head at him. Tyler loved practice almost as much as he loved games. What a sicko.
But it was all paying off for him. He was already getting serious interest from NHL teams, getting scouted hard, and I was…not. I mean, the scouts talked to me, but mostly just while they were killing time, waiting to talk to Tyler. I hadn’t given up on the NHL, and I still had a couple years of OHL eligibility to finish off. Still lots of chances to make it to the show. But Tyler? He was practically there already. His future was clear. Mine was anything but.
Which didn’t actually bother me, to be honest. I was a live-in-the-now kind of guy. I could understand my mom’s point about keeping doors open, and I was fine with that, in general. It was a little trickier when keeping doors open meant I had to take really hard classes, but even that had gotten a bit sunnier as of lunchtime that day.
“Do you know Claudia Waring?” I asked Tyler as soon as I had enough breath to get the words out.
He looked up at the stands as if searching the rows of spectators for a face that would match the name. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
He looked a little guilty, like he thought I was going to say he’d banged her and couldn’t even remember her name. With his history it wasn’t completely out of the question. But I couldn’t picture Claudia as a puck bunny. “From school,” I prompted him. “She’s kinda small, with dark hair? Looks like she’s maybe part Asian or something.” Damn, was that just as bad as calling her friend “the gay kid”? But she did look part Asian. “Wicked smart, super serious. Hangs out with that girl who reads as she walks and the ‘As a Gay Canadian’ guy.”
“He doesn’t really do that anymore,” Tyler said, struggling to his feet to follow the rest of our line back toward the coach. “His name’s Oliver.”
“Okay—Oliver. Oliver.” I tried to imprint it on my memory, but I was positive it wouldn’t take. There are guys on the team I still call by their number half the time. Names are not my thing. Learning in general? Not a strong point.
“I know who you mean,” Tyler said, and I dragged my mind back to the conversation. “Pretty, but kind of quiet? Good student… Oh, is she your tutor?”
“Yeah.”
“And?” Tyler raised an eyebrow at me, but I was spared from answering because the coach sent us off on another drill. I’d way rather skate than do weights, but at least in the gym conversation was a bit easier.
I kept my mind mostly on business for the rest of the practice, but after we’d gotten cleaned up and were leaving the arena, Tyler said, “You like her?” and I didn’t have to think about who he meant.
“She’s different. I mean, I like her. I don’t like her.”
“So why are you asking about her?”
“Because she’s different. I’m curious. You know how much I love learning. I have a hunger for…no, not just for knowledge. Something deeper than that. I have a hunger for understanding.”
“You have a hunger for dinner, and it’s making you say stupid things that aren’t true.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. And maybe I kind of did like Claudia. I mean, very early stages, for sure. Half an hour of chemistry talk was no basis for a lasting relationship. But still, there was something about her. Something kind of intriguing.
“Want me to ask Karen to scout her out?”
“Karen? Dude, you’re dating the most antisocial girl in town. You really think she’s going to be an effective scout?”
“She’s not antisocial, she’s selective. And from what I’ve seen of your little scientist, they might have a lot in common.” He shrugged. “Except for the being super serious and really caring about school part. But you know what I mean. Neither one’s exactly a social butterfly.”
That much was true. Which kind of highlighted how stupid it was for me to even be thinking about Claudia that way. Because I might not be a butterfly, but I was a social…something. A social bear? Nah, it might fit my body type, but bears are too solitary. I was some sort of pack animal. “Would you say I’m more of a dog, or a horse?” I asked Tyler.
He didn’t even seem fazed by my randomness. “Horse,” he said. No explanation given, but that was fine.
“And what’s the opposite of a social butterfly? Like, in animal terms?”
He had to think about this for a bit longer. “I want to say groundhog, and warn you that you can break a leg if you step in the groundhog hole, but I think I’m kind of stretching it. Maybe a cat? But then I should have said you were a dog, right?” We were at his truck now, and he stopped by the driver’s-side door and frowned thoughtfully at the pavement. “Oh, how about a deer? They’re kind of the same as horses, but I don’t think they’re as social. Are they?”
I wasn’t sure about the deer. But I was absolutely sure that anyone hearing this conversation would be laughing their asses off. I mean, if we were stoned or something, sure, but as it was? Not what anyone expected from OHL players. “I don’t know. I’ll do some deer research.”
“And I’ll see if Karen can do preliminary scouting on Claudia. She can always ask the twins or something.”
The twins were Karen’s half siblings; Karen was the result of one of their dad’s many affairs, and the whole town knew about it all. It had been pretty messy for a while, but they all got along well now, and the twins were totally tapped into the town gossip. They’d have all the information anyone could want about any local. “Yeah, okay, she can ask them. But in a subtle way, okay? I don’t think this is actually going to be anything.”
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed. Then he pulled out his phone, his gaze locked on me in a way that made it clear he didn’t want me to leave quite yet. “Hey,” he said into the phone, his voice gentle and affectionate the way it was only when he was talking to Karen. “You got a minute?” Apparently she did, because he grinned wide and said, “Winslow’s got a crush! He’s trying to be all cool about it, but
he’s not fooling anyone.” I rolled my eyes as he listened to her response. “She’s at school. Claudia Waring? Do you know her? No? Maybe you should get to know her. You know?”
“Don’t do it,” I yelled, hopefully loud enough that Karen could hear me on the other end of the call.
“Did you hear that?” Tyler asked, turning away from me and shielding the phone. “He said, ‘Please do it!’ He’s really into this girl.”
I walked away in disgust, heading for my own pickup a few spots away. My truck was quite a bit newer than Tyler’s; his family didn’t have a lot of money and he was being careful about taking gifts from agents or teams, so things were tight for him. My dad ran a construction company and bought a new crew-cab pickup every couple years; I was driving one of his discards. Which was a sweet perk, but it was probably about all I was ever going to get out of the company—with two older brothers and an older sister who all loved the industry, there wasn’t a lot of room left for me to plan to make a living in the family business. Which explained why my mom was so sure I needed to keep my doors open; if I went through the same door all my siblings had, the room on the other side would be even more crowded than it already was.
I drove home, thinking about doors, and about Claudia. I liked the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and how she’d tapped the paper with the pencil eraser when she wanted to get my attention.
It wasn’t a big thing. I liked people, and I got interested in different girls all the time. Just…interested. Curious. Sure, there was usually a bit of attraction, but that wasn’t what it was about. For all my sarcasm with Tyler, I really did want to figure people out. I wanted to understand them.
I wanted to understand Claudia. It was that simple. So I’d take whatever scouting report Karen came up with, but more importantly, I’d pay attention to Claudia. I’d watch her, and figure her out. I was like a scientist, really. I should be taking some course where I could get credit for my work.
Chapter Three
I’d barely stepped inside the English classroom the next morning when I heard an unfamiliar female voice call my name. I turned toward the back of the room and saw Tyler MacDonald, the captain of the Raiders, and his girlfriend, Karen, the new girl in town, both watching me. “Claudia,” Karen repeated. “That’s you, right?”
“Yeah,” I said cautiously. Our school wasn’t like some movie, with the upper levels of society bullying and picking on the rest of us, but that didn’t mean the levels weren’t real. And Karen, and especially Tyler, were from a level so far above mine that they should have been worried about altitude sickness. The proper procedure was for them to pretend I didn’t exist, so this contact was completely inappropriate.
Still, it was intriguing. Just like the day before, walking down the hallway with Chris, I could feel the interest of everyone else in the room. Who was I, and what had I done to earn the attention of the gods?
So I took a few steps toward the back of the class. “What’s up?”
“Do you have room in your group for the poetry critiques?” Karen shook her head at Tyler in disgust. “All he ever says is ‘that’s really good.’ Kind of hard to pull any ideas for improvement out of feedback like that, you know?”
“It is really good,” Tyler protested.
“No. My poetry sucks.” Karen didn’t sound like she was fishing for compliments. She was just giving her genuine opinion of her work. “Or at least, it could be a lot better. But I need help.” She looked at me. “You and your friend are good at writing, right? Could I join your group?”
“Annalise is really good at writing,” I corrected. “I’m just trying to keep up.”
“Well, I bet you have something more useful to say than Tyler. Could we maybe try it for today, and if you don’t like me you can kick me out?”
I knew it was a setup. How could it not be? I tutor one hockey player, and the next day another hockey player’s girlfriend wants to be my buddy? Too much of a coincidence.
But I was curious, and it wasn’t like these guys were going to pull a Carrie on me. They weren’t that sinister, and I wasn’t that naive. If they tried to get me up on a stage, I’d be looking for the pig blood, for sure.
I looked behind me, but Annalise still hadn’t arrived. She was probably reading, somewhere, and would scurry into class after the bell, looking as if she’d been dragged out of her dream world. So I made the decision without her. “Sure. You want to move up with us?”
Karen nodded and grabbed her books, giving Tyler a saucy wave good-bye. “You couldn’t satisfy my needs, so I’m off to find someone who can,” she told him.
He grinned at her, then looked at me. “I want to ask if I can watch, but I’m not sure you know me well enough to know that I’d be joking.”
I tried to stay cool, but honestly, the innuendo was clear and I wasn’t good at that sort of talk. I mean, I wasn’t used to it, and even though he was being pretty gentle about it, it kind of freaked me out. The idea of joking about…about sex, and voyeurism, and— No. I wasn’t prepared for that. So I smiled weakly, and then I turned and headed for the front of the room.
Karen followed me a moment later and pulled an empty desk next to mine. She’d just gotten settled when the bell rang and we went through the usual announcements and anthem drill. Annalise scurried in and didn’t even notice Karen, and then Ms. Coyne took the floor.
When I say she took the floor, I mean it. Ms. Coyne had been an actor, doing a lot of stage work before she became a teacher, and she definitely knew how to play to an audience. She used all the techniques, and had us eating out of her hand pretty much every day. She had a trick when she wanted our attention: instead of raising her voice she’d speak more quietly, making us all lean forward to hear her, making it so nobody would even move because the sound of scuffing denim would make her inaudible. On this day, she started at regular volume, but there was just something about her body language that made us all pay attention anyway. She made it seem like everything she was saying was vitally important, even though it was just English class.
“Today is Poetry Wednesday,” she proclaimed, as if it was the most exciting announcement she possibly could have made. Really, we all should have thought she was cheesy and over the top, but somehow she made it work for her. “As usual, we will read poetry, we will write poetry, we will wallow in poetry and gorge ourselves on it. And most importantly, we will share poetry. We will open ourselves to one another and allow the poetry to help us communicate our deepest thoughts and emotions. We will expose our souls and use words to make them stronger and more beautiful.” She grinned. “And we will do it all in a seventy-five-minute period, so we’d better get cracking!”
We’d been doing Poetry Wednesdays all year so far, so we knew the drill. We moved our desks around, formed little circles, and took turns reading a poem we’d found as homework. We were allowed to just choose excerpts, if we wanted, one or two lines, even. Ms. Coyne said we should go for maximum impact, and share the words that either punched us in the gut or lifted us above the clouds. And we were also allowed to read our own work, which was what Annalise almost always chose to do.
On this day, she blinked a few times when I introduced her to Karen and explained the new grouping, then shrugged and said, “Okay. Should I read first?”
And, yes, she should. Because otherwise she just fidgeted and squirmed all through whatever anyone else was reading, as if the words she wanted to share were actually burning inside her and she could barely handle the pain of keeping them quiet. Honestly, it was a bit much. It wasn’t like I was jumping around and making faces with the excitement of thinking about a new equation in math, or anything. She could have cooled it if she’d really tried.
But, whatever, that was Annalise. So she started off on her poem, and it was…long, mostly. There were some parts that I was pretty sure I liked, some nice images, but it was all about elves and forests and mist clinging to things, and it was just long. And when it finally ended, she looked at me a
nd Karen and her expression was strange, like she wasn’t sure whether to expect our admiration or build a defense against our dislike. And I wasn’t sure how to react, either.
“I like the part about the leaves,” Karen said cautiously. “About them turning over, like it was going to rain? I could really picture that.”
That earned two blinks from Annalise, who was clearly waiting for something more. But I was impressed Karen had been able to come up with that much, so I jumped in. “It’s a bit hard to get ‘punched in the gut’ by elves, I think. So we’re really looking for parts that made us soar above the clouds? The part about the rocks talking was beautiful, I thought.” And Karen had already stolen the “I could picture that” line, so I was left with, “It’s nice to think about that. The idea of emotions being stored for a really long time.”
“Like immortality,” Karen agreed.
And that was all either one of us could think of to say about the poem, even though it clearly wasn’t enough for Annalise. “Do you want to go next?” I asked Karen.
“Yeah, okay,” she said reluctantly. I could totally understand her hesitance. It’s kind of scary, telling other people what words have power over you. Like you’re making yourself vulnerable just by admitting to feeling something. “I kind of cheated,” she said, her words rushed. “I mean, it’s not cheating, but it’s from a play we studied last year. Did you guys do Macbeth?”
I wanted to groan. Elves from Annalise, and now Shakespeare from Karen? I was in over my head. But I just nodded encouragingly. “We did.”
“Okay, well, I remembered how much I liked the line ‘Lay on, Macduff/ And damned be him that first cries, “Hold, enough!’” She shrugged self-consciously. “I don’t know if it exactly punches me in the gut, but it’s really powerful, you know? Like, this guy is fighting on even though he believes everything is lost, just because he’s a fighter. Because that’s how he wants to go out. I thought it was cool, that’s all.”
