Just One of the Boys

by Lexie Syrah

I hope Ma doesn’t see my eyes start to glaze over. I can’t deal with this right now. Ever since I was old enough to put on skates, Mom has been trying to force me into figure skating—and I’ve done it every single year to shut her up.

  “—and all I want is for my beautiful daughter to perform the final dance—”

  How am I supposed to commit to it when there’s so much work to put into the Falcons? Our first away game of the season is coming up next week, and I have to be ready.

  “—I’ve even got the Chicago Falcons involved in a promotional event! Doesn’t that make you happy?”

  I’ll be taking a bus to Detroit and staying in a room with another player. Pretending to be a boy on the ice is one thing, but the real challenge will be pretending full time. Although that’s probably easier than dealing with all this girl crap.

  “And so will you please just care about this? A little!”

  “Yes, Ma!” I say, shaking my head and making eye contact. Hopefully she couldn’t tell I was zoned out for that entire lecture. I stab my fork into the meat. “Can you just tell me one more time what I signed up for?”

  Ma’s lip recedes ever so slightly, and she sighs. “I just told you! The promotional event and the Ice Ball in the spring! I want you to skate beautifully.”

  “Oh yeah! Of course. I promise I’ll be there!” It’s only two events, I repeat in my head. I can make it through that.

  A lipstick smile spreads across Mom’s face. “Oh, wonderful.” Her cell phone in her lap begins to buzz. “Oh my, I must take this. The trials of a working woman! Please excuse me.” Mom dances off, trilling into her phone.

  Xander pushes his chair away from the table and grabs his crutches.

  “Where are you going?” I say, mouth full.

  “Not hungry.”

  “Dude, what’s your problem? You haven’t talked to me all day. Didn’t you watch the live stream of the game last night?”

  “Yes, I watched it.” Xander’s gaze shoots through me like a slapshot. “What the hell, Alice?”

  I recoil back. “What do you mean, what the hell? I scored in the shootout!”

  “I know!” Xander burrows his head in his hands. “What were you thinking? What part of lay low don’t you understand?”

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “I wanted to play well. For you.”

  “For me?” Xander scoffs and shakes his head. “How am I supposed to replicate the way you play when I come back, huh? You’re just supposed to be place holding, Alice, not stealing the show.”

  I lean back in my chair. “Chill out. I’ve got it under control.”

  “And now you’re going away to play the Ice Wolves…” Xander can’t meet my gaze.

  “Why don’t you come up to Detroit for the weekend? All of our old teammates will be in town. You could say hi to Freddy and Ben Walker—”

  “No!” He physically recoils at the mention of it. “I just…I just want you to stay out of sight. Don’t talk to the team that much. Don’t show them up at games. Just…be a little less Alice, okay?”

  I stand up and wrap my arms around Xander’s shoulders. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, baby brother,” I say, nestling my head in his ear. “Because I’m not Alice. I’m Al.”

  …

  The bus’s roaring engine has become more of a comfort than an annoyance after the six-hour ride. I let my eye lids droop, drifting off to the choking rasp of the engine.

  Sure, I’ve been trapped in this tin can for six hours while my teammates fart and make dumb comments about the first thing that comes into their brains, but I’m used to that. Usually it’s nice to have Xander beside me on these big team rides, but my excitement is the only company I need today.

  My first away game with the team is tomorrow! And it’s in Detroit! And to make it even more exciting, we’ll be facing the Ice Wolves—my boyfriend’s team. I’ve gone to so many of Freddy’s games, I can picture their plays in my head. It should be a piece of cake—if Hayden decides to pass to me.

  I pretend to scratch my back, but actually adjust the medical tape, strapped tight around my chest like an elastic band. I’ll get to see Freddy, too, so there’s that. I called him last week and told him I would be in Detroit to watch Xander’s game. I’ll have to make sure my dress and makeup bag are well hidden so none of my teammates see.

  We pull up in front of our hotel. It’s a rather warm evening for October; orange leaves scatter the sidewalk.

  I pull out my phone and send a text to Freddy:

  Me: Just got to the hotel. When do you want to meet up?

  Does that sound excited enough for a girl who hasn’t seen her boyfriend in two months? I add a smiley face for good measure.

  Freddy texts me back almost immediately:

  Freddy: wat time do u hed back to Chi-town?

  Me: Not until the day after the game.

  Freddy: Coach wants us to stay in n get sum rest 4 tom’s game. Can we meet up after I kick ur bro’s ass tomorrow?

  Me: Sure.

  I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but add:

  I’ll console you after your loss.

  I place my phone back in my pocket. Now what am I going to do? Coach Z hasn’t put any restrictions on us, as far as I know, but I definitely don’t want to spend my night awkwardly bro-bonding with whoever my roommate is. Maybe I can see what Madison’s up to…

  I walk into the lobby and straight into a heated argument between Hayden and Coach. Hayden shoots me the nastiest glare, and for a second, I think the argument is about me. But it can’t be—I haven’t done anything to him.

  “You.”

  At least I don’t think I did.

  “Room with Bell?” Hayden snarls, turning back to Coach. “Are you kidding me? I always room with Sacs!”

  Daniel Sacachelli wraps an arm around Hayden’s shoulder. “Yeah, come on, Zab. Tremblay and I have a routine.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m separating you two.” Coach shoots them each a dirty look. “No more of your shenanigans. No more raiding mini-fridges. No more parties. No more girls. And no more—” He pokes Sacachelli hard in the chest. “—punching cab drivers.”

  “That was one time!” Sacachelli moans.

  “You two are bad influences on each other.” Coach crosses his arms. “Sacachelli, you’re with Evans. Tremblay, you’re with Bell.” He walks toward me and places the key card in my hand. “Keep him out of trouble, rookie.”

  I look up to give Hayden a reassuring smile, but he’s already storming toward the elevator. I hike my bag up on my shoulder and hurry after him. This should be perfect; I’m pretty sure Hayden hates me, so he’ll ignore me…which is all I can ask out of a roommate right now.

  But my stomach shrivels up into a tight ball.

  Hayden doesn’t talk to me when we enter the room, so I walk past him and throw my duffle bag on the far bed.

  He makes a sound in the back of his throat like I just insulted his family’s honour, storms over, rips my bag off the bed and hurls it at me so hard, I tumble back onto the other bed.

  “Dude, what the fuck!”

  He doesn’t respond. His back is to me, and he looks out the window. His hands are clenched in his hair. And I realize for the first time, maybe this isn’t about me at all.

  But that doesn’t sit with me for long, because even if it’s not, he’s still being a goddamn asshole about it.

  I storm over to him and clear my throat so I can summon my most powerful manly voice. “Hey!”

  “I always sleep on the bed closest to the window.” He turns around. “And I told you to stay out of my way.”

  “What is your problem with me?” I shout, cautious of my voice going up an octave.

  “You ruin everything! On the ice—” He cuts himself off. On the ice, he has to work a little harder to keep the puck now that I’m here. But there’s no way in hell that he’s going to admit that out loud.

  Someone pounds on our door and a bunch of rowdy voices jeer outsid
e. I guess our bickering will have to wait.

  Hayden goes to the door and Daniel Sacachelli, Tyler Evans, and some other boys file in the room. They’ve all got their coats, hats, gloves, and scarves on.

  “You ready, man?” Daniel says, looking at Hayden.

  “Yeah, give me a minute.” He grabs his bag and fishes out a jacket.

  “You coming, rookie?” Tyler says, looking at me with a big smile. I’ve decided I really like Tyler. I’d razz him for being obnoxiously happy, but he’s just so genuine.

  “Going where?” I take a step back. I’m hardly ever around these guys without skates and suddenly I feel really small. I smooth out my long-sleeve blazer—one of several outfit options Xander gave me. Without my helmet and jersey, I feel so exposed. Can they see the softness of my jaw? My narrow shoulders? Can’t they hear it in my voice?

  “There’s always a bonfire the night before the big game,” Tyler says. “We go every year. You should come.”

  It does sound sorta fun, but it wouldn’t really classify in Xander’s book as keeping my head down.

  “No thanks,” I mutter. “I’m pretty tired.”

  “Probably a good thing. Don’t want to show the Ice Wolves what a small fry we got on the team now,” Daniel says, pushing me in the elbow. He’s got an easy grin on his face, and I know he’s just teasing.

  Normally, I’d shoot him a witty comeback. But his words are still making their way through my head and all that comes out is: “The Ice Wolves are going to be there?”

  “Unfortunately,” Tyler says. “They always put on a bonfire the night before we play them, to try and psyche us out by talking shit. Doesn’t work for us though! We just go and steal their beer.”

  But…Freddy said their coach told them to stay in. That can’t be right.

  “Comin’, Al?” Daniel looks back as they all start filing out the door.

  “Yeah, wait for me!”

  “Great,” Hayden throws his head back and moans. “My agony continues.”

  I reach for my knit cap and the biggest jacket I own. Anger pinches in my belly. Why would Freddy lie to me? Maybe the Ice Wolves are disobeying their coach. But Freddy wouldn’t do that.

  Heat rises to my face. Sure, Freddy’s been known to skip a practice or two in favor of sleeping off a hangover. But he’s always told me. And we haven’t seen each other in two months. Why wouldn’t he want me there?

  I set my jaw. Freddy wouldn’t lie to me, so there’s no way he’ll be at this bonfire.

  But I better go just to make sure.

  …

  Hayden

  “And don’t even get me started on the way he does his shootouts.” I take a sip of my beer and look up. “Hey, where did Sacs go?”

  Evans gives me a pained grin. “He left when you started talking about the way Bell chews on his mouthguard.”

  “Well, it’s stupid! Mouth guards are supposed to be in your mouth—not chewed on when you’re about to score a goal.” I lean against a table and look around the bonfire. The Wolves set it up on the outskirts of the city, in one of the player’s giant backyard. There’s a big fire in the middle, surrounded by camp chairs and bales of hay.

  There’s about fifty people here, drinking, laughing, doing dumb stuff. I find Sacs in the crowd. He’s found a group of pretty girls. Normally I would be right there with him, but there’s too much annoyance simmering inside me.

  I turn back to Evans, and his blond hair glows orange in the firelight. At least he’s still my friend.

  “I just don’t understand why Coach even put him on the team.” I glance at Bell, who stands alone on the outskirts of the bonfire, dressed in a jacket more suited for a blizzard than a party. “And have you noticed the way—”

  “NO!” Evans snatches the empty can out of my hand. “I haven’t noticed! Hayden, I know you love to obsess over everything—your workouts, diet, practices—but I’ve never seen you obsess over another player.” He shoves a beer in my gaping hand. “So what if Coach put him in the shootout instead of you? He’s a good player. We should be happy he’s on the team.” Evans swigs his drink. “Now I’m going to rescue that poor girl from Sac’s horrible pickup lines, because if I have to hear one more complaint about Al Bell, I will personally throw myself in the fire.”

  I down my drink and toss my empty cup on the table. Obsessed with Bell? Hardly. Yeah, other players have riled me up before… Okay, a lot of players have. But no player has ever gotten quite under my skin the way Bell has.

  I hate everything about him. I hate that he’s so small, he shouldn’t even be able to play hockey. I hate how he can deke around the players so fast, no one can catch him. I hate the way he talks like his nose is always stuffed. Even his sister is annoying.

  And why the hell is he standing so far away from everyone? Way to be a team player. Before I know it, I walk toward him to see what the unsociable loser is up to.

  Bell looks up at me when I get there. “So,” he says, “I guess it’s true all Canadians wear plaid.”

  I look down at my plaid jacket and wonder if he’s trying to be funny. “Eh?”

  “Eh!” He laughs as if I’ve said something hysterical. “Have you come over to say sorry, too?”

  I cross my arms. Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe its just cause he’s so damn pathetic right now, but my anger from earlier is gone.

  He gives me a sideway glance, almost like he expects me to hurl an insult his way. I grab him by the arm and pull him toward the fire. “Don’t stand out in the shadows like a weirdo. You’ll give the Falcons a bad name.”

  Bell reluctantly trails behind me. Something is up. He’s usually super chatty—to an uncomfortable extreme. But he turns dead quiet, his eyes darting around. “You used to live around here, didn’t you?” I ask. “You know any of these guys?”

  “I never told you that.”

  Shit. Well, obviously I had to creep his hockey history. How a kid I’ve never heard of suddenly made it on the Falcons—and is good enough to take the puck from me—that’s something I have to find out. And my background research on him doesn’t turn anything up. Bell played in a small town local league, and his stats were average at best. “Uh…” I pull my toque further down. “It’s important for me to know about my teammates.”

  “Because you want to be captain?”

  “I never told you that.” I look down at him. Usually when people bring up the C, I get defensive, but there’s something about the way he asks. It’s not an accusation, and that makes it feel all right.

  Bell shrugs and looks around again. “I know one guy, but I don’t think he’s here. Galen Fredlund.”

  I laugh. “How do you know an asshole like that?”

  “Uh…” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “My twin sister’s dating him.”

  I squint my eyes. Why would that hot figure skater be dating an asshole like Galen Fredlund? “I saw him earlier.”

  “He’s here?”

  “Yeah, on the other side of the fire.”

  Suddenly, Bell moves so fast, I have to jog to keep up with him. When I make it around the fire, Bell has stopped completely, staring at Fred. The asshole is sitting on a hay bale, surrounded by a pack of Ice Wolves. On his lap sits some blonde girl, wearing a dress that can’t be keeping her warm at all. Not that Fred’s letting her get cold with his tongue down her throat and his hands on her ass.

  Bell rushes forward.

  Fuck. He’ll get his ass kicked if he calls out Fredlund right now.

  “Al, wait!” I grab his arm, and he spins around.

  “Fuck, I’m Al—” he mutters to himself. His hands clench at his side, and his face is twisted in indecision. Or constipation…I can’t really tell.

  I’m not one to ever back down from a fight, but Bell’s half the size of Fred, and there’s a bunch of his dipshit friends around. Bell gives me a nod, and we start to walk away.

  “Xander?!”

  I turn around and Fredlund stands up, pushing the blonde off
his lap. Bell hasn’t turned around; he grabs the corners of his toque, pulls it down over his ears, and mutters something. Then he clears his throat and charges toward Fred.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Bell roars.

  Fredlund squints. He wavers on his feet, clearly drunk out of his mind. “Xander? How in the hell did you make it on the Falcons? Good for you, man.” He tries to hug him, but Bell dodges out of the way.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? What about Alice?” Pain is etched across his face.

  Fredlund runs a hand through his blond curls. I guess he just realized he’s not gonna be all buddy-buddy with Bell after cheating on his sister. Idiot.

  “Look,” he mutters, looking down. “You know how it is, man.”

  “No! I don’t know how it is! And neither does Alice!”

  Fredlund’s eyes go wide. “Alice knows I love her. Jesus, she lives so far away, we barely see each other, and even when we do…you know how she is. “

  “Yeah, I do know how she is. She wouldn’t put up with your shit, so you found someone who would. I get it!” Bell turns to leave, but Fredlund reaches forward and roughly grabs the hood of his jacket.

  “Fuck that, Xander,” Fredlund says. “Don’t you fucking act like you have morals! Just cover for me one more time.”

  Bell breaks free of Fredlund’s grasp. “C-cover?”

  “You heard me!” Fred grabs Bell by the arm, pulls him close, and whispers something in his ear. Bell’s eyes go wide, and Fredlund pushes him away. “You think I’m joking, Xander?”

  Anger bubbles in my chest. Sure, Alice was annoying, but she doesn’t deserve this. I can’t take this asshole anymore!

  I walk forward and yank Bell away from Freddy’s grip. Fredlund looks at me for one confused moment, before I pull back my fist and punch him in the mug.

  He staggers back, clutching his nose and screaming. Luckily, he’s too drunk to fight—but his friends aren’t. I glance down at Bell. “Wanna get outta here?”

  Bell nods, and we sprint onto the road. The streetlights stream over us as we dart away, listening to the jeers and laughing die away behind us. Finally, when we’re deep into the suburbs of nowhere, and the party is long behind us, we stop running.