“I cannot believe this,” he said, grinning.
“What, that someone with hockey equipment would end up at a hockey camp?”
“No, not only did you take my sticks, but now you took my seat.”
“Does it have your name on it?” I challenged him.
He pointed, and too late I noticed his gray hoody on the floor at my feet. “Feel free to throw my stuff on the floor,” he jeered.
I picked up the hoody and dumped it on the seat in front.
“I’m sure you’ll find that seat equally comfortable.”
“I don’t know,” he said, looming over me. Did he want to sit beside me? This bus had lots of seats, no need to share mine. I plopped my pack on the seat beside me. He seemed okay, but kind of weird. Not my type.
Did I even have a type? Well, maybe like Phil: tall, dark, and fun. And this year, I had finally stuck a toe into the dating pool in Montreal. I met J.P. Denis at the rink. He was also tall, dark, and fun, but way more laid-back than Phil. So laid-back, he barely bothered to let me know he was moving back to Europe to play hockey. We weren’t that serious anyway, and J.P.’s departure hardly bothered me. We had fun while it lasted.
It took all of five seconds to relive my entire love life. In any case, I was here to get hockey experience and not to pick up guys. Especially not an L.B., I wasn’t into little boys. Besides, I wasn’t really getting a flirty vibe off him—more of a bratty little brother vibe. Although without his hoody, he looked even better.
He sat down in front of me and immediately turned around. He draped an arm over his seatback, an arm than was tanned and muscular with a bicep so big that it stretched out his t-shirt sleeve. I had time to notice this because he didn’t say anything for ages. His mouth fell slightly open, and he was thinking hard.
Finally, I felt sorry for him. “Hey, I’m Kelly Tanaka.”
“I’m Jimm—James,” he said. It sounded like he was going to say Jimmy, but wanted to switch to the more grown-up version of his name.
“Have you been to this camp before?”
“Yeah, when I was a kid. But I’ve taught there for two years now.” He paused again. “So, you’re not from around here.”
“No, I’m from Vancouver. You know, in beautiful British Columbia.”
“Yeah, I was just in Vancouver—in June.” He said that like it was some big accomplishment and not something anyone with a plane ticket could do. This guy was definitely weird. Too bad, because he was kind of cute. Maybe he was awkward because he was young.
“How old are you?” I wondered.
“How old are you?” he responded with a definite edge in his voice.
“Nineteen—with a birthday real soon.”
“Oh yeah, when?”
“July 21st.”
“So, then you’ll be twenty.”
Obviously a math major. “Yeah.”
My age seemed to stump him for a bit. Then he steered the conversation into a bizarre direction. “Your hair looks good like that.”
“Um, thank you.” That was something your girlfriend would say after you’d gotten it cut. Maybe they didn’t have scrunchies in New Brunswick?
There was another long pause, and I jumped in again. “I’m a winger, what position do you play?”
He snorted. “Oh, a winger. Float around near the goal and benefit from all the centre’s hard work.”
“Let me guess: you play centre.”
“Yeah. I’m on the top line at UMaine.”
That was bullshit. No way a guy this young was on the top line at a top school, although I still didn’t know his exact age. What was certain was that Jim-Jam was pretty conceited. I stopped pitying his lack of social skills and looked out the window. It was pretty, lots of green and occasional glimpses of rivers.
“So, are you the cook or something?” he asked.
“The cook? That is such a sexist assumption. I have hockey equipment, why wouldn’t I be a hockey instructor?”
He grinned, “I knew I could get you to talk if I got you mad again.”
I couldn’t help laughing; he was kind of funny in a goofy way.
“So, where do you play hockey? At a U.S. college?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I play at McGill.”
“Oh yeah? How good is McGill?”
“We’re good. I think we have a decent shot at the C.I.S. championship this year.” We came close last season, and most of our players were returning.
“Same here, last season, the Black Bears had our best—” He stopped talking and frowned. “Uh, do you like Taylor Swift?”
“She’s okay, I guess.”
“What’s your favourite movie?” What was it with all these random questions?
“Slapshot,” I replied.
“No way, really? I like that too. How about television, what’s your favourite TV show?”
“What is this, Twenty Questions? Why don’t we just talk about hockey? Did you watch the playoffs?”
“You want to talk about the playoffs? Really?”
“Yeah, did you not think the series momentum completely shifted when Conklin let in that goal?”
He nodded and we talked hockey for the rest of the bus ride. It saved the day.
4
In Too Deep
Jimmy
When the bus pulled up to the camp, Kelly was up and out of there in no time. I knew exactly how she felt; I hated being cooped up for too long. I figured our talk on the bus had gone pretty well and maybe my social skills were already improving and I could check that off my list.
Burt Iverson and his wife, Trudy, were there to greet us. They handed out schedules and room assignments. I already knew the three guys I was bunking with; most of us had known each other for years from hockey. I overheard Kelly asking about running trails.
As the last one in my room, I got the bed by the door. I unpacked, and then I headed out to have a look around. Things looked pretty much as they always did. The main lodge and cabins were a camp used by the Boy Scouts in August, and then by different groups the rest of the year. Burt used the lodge for his hockey camp; the arena for the camp was only a 15-minute walk away, through some wooded trails.
I remembered the first time I went to the camp as a kid. I was so impressed by the instructors and totally pumped at the idea of doing nothing but hockey and hockey-training all week. I heard that lately enrolment was not as good at the camp. People preferred to put their kids in camps with fancy equipment. Burt emphasized hard work and polishing basic skills, which was the most important thing for young players.
I walked over to the lodge and followed the voices to find the guys on the big deck that overlooked the lake.
“Holy jeez, check out that ass.”
“Finally, Ivy is stocking this place with some scenery.”
“Merde, she’s taking off her clothes. Well, her shoes anyway, Keep going, bébé.”
“Seriously, I’m in love. She’s as hot as fuck.”
“Riley, you’re always in love. You were in love with the waitress at lunch.”
“You wouldn’t have a chance with her anyways. Outta your league, boy.”
“Who is she?”
“It’s Kelly Tanaka,” I answered, as I joined them. “She’s from Vancouver.” Kelly was stretching at the edge of the dock, completely unaware she was being watched by half the staff of the hockey camp. I leaned over the deck rail and joined the group. I could see she was sweaty after her run and she wearing only a tank top and running shorts, which was pretty hot. She was really flexible, which was also hot.
“Look who it is, boys.” Xavier LeBlanc came over and slapped my back. “Freshy! Whaddaya sayin’? You just get home?”
I nodded. “Straight from the airport. How’s she going, X-man?” Xavier was a good guy; we’d played minor hockey together.
“So, Kelly, right? How d’you know her?” Riley asked. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“We were on the same flight from Montreal. And the
n on the bus together.”
Dusty grinned. “Lucky dog. The only girl in camp and you’ve already got the inside track.”
“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Steve Owen laughed. “Freshy’s not getting a sniff.” Steve-O was slick and he’d had girlfriends since grade six.
“You never know,” X-man said. “Girls’ll be throwing themselves at him now that he’s going to the show.”
I suddenly realized that might have been Kelly’s agenda. Talking to her had been easy. What if it wasn’t me getting better, but her making it easy? I guess the proof was that she lived in Vancouver and was really into hockey, so she knew me from the draft. It didn’t really matter—she was cute, but she didn’t look anything like my dream girlfriend.
Steve-O snorted. “He’s not in the show yet.”
Well, I could have been if I signed that contract in Chicago, but there was no point bragging on this stuff. I was used to this hassle when I saw guys I used to play with. Everyone measured themselves against me, and some figured the only reason I made it farther was due to luck or chance.
Suddenly, some of the guys hooted. Kelly had run down the dock and done a cannonball into the water, with water exploding everywhere. She was so free.
Everyone broke into spontaneous applause.
“10 out of 10!”
“All right!”
Kelly finally noticed us and waved from the lake. “The water’s great,” she called out. I considered going in too, but with only fifteen minutes until dinner it wasn’t really practical.
Dusty nodded. “She’s some hot out today. Maybe we should join her.”
“No way, I’m staying here for the show,” Riley said. “She’s gotta come out of the water, with her clothes all wet and no towel.”
My feelings about Kelly did another seesaw. I watched as she did some lazy backstrokes and then swam back to the dock. She hauled herself out of the lake, and the water poured off her. Her running top was purple and stuck to her tits now. Her wet shorts clung to her legs and she was perfectly proportioned with a tiny waist and flaring hips. She shook off the water.
“It’s like fucking porn,” Riley sighed. “Should be in slo-mo though.”
“Holy fuck, she’s mint,” Eric said.
Suddenly, Steve-O appeared at the end of the dock. The guy had conjured up a beach towel and offered it to Kelly. He smirked up at us as he wrapped it around her. I could see them talking.
“He’s so fucking greasy.” X-man laughed.
It was weird. On the bus, I liked Kelly and felt comfortable with her. But now all the guys were going nuts over her, it made me look at her differently. I hadn’t thought she was my type, but now I didn’t want anyone else getting near her.
5
Back To Guysville
I felt a million times better after a run and a swim. Trudy had given me a detailed schedule for all three weeks. Tonight, supper was at 5:30 and I was starved, so I went straight to the dining hall. Since none of the kids were here yet, the meal was pretty casual: hot dogs and various carb-laden salads. Not exactly the fuel of champions, but all the guys were gobbling the food down pretty rapidly. I tried to eat clean, but there weren’t a lot of choices here. I grabbed a hot dog then found a bowl of fruit on a side table and helped myself.
One table was already full, so I sat down at a table with only one guy. He was tall and gangly and busy ploughing through a tray with three hot dogs, a mountain of macaroni salad, and three glasses of milk.
“Hi, I’m Kelly.”
He looked up at me then swallowed his food awkwardly. His eyes bulged, and he started choking.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded but kept on coughing and started turning red. I got up to whack him on the back, but he waved me off. I heard noise behind me and turned to see the other table laughing their heads off at us. That seemed mean. I sat back down and waited until the kid had recovered.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Eric.”
“Have you worked at this camp before?”
“No.”
This was like pulling teeth. I introduced the topic of hockey and got some two-word answers. Eric played junior in the QMJHL, so he must have been good.
“Hey, is this seat taken?” It was Steve Owen, the guy from the dock. He had already given me a creepy vibe when he tried to cop a feel while handing me a towel. He probably figured he was God’s gift to women with his tan and flashy looks. Also, he had streaked blond hair I suspected was done in a salon. Ridiculous.
“Uh, no. Have a seat,” I offered.
“So, my little mermaid, I’d like to know more about you,” Steve said. Unlike Eric, he had no trouble making small talk.
“What’s to know? I’m from Vancouver, and I play hockey. Obviously.” I figured everyone here was a good hockey player. I turned back to Eric. “So, what were you saying about the Q?”
Eric muttered something unintelligible, clearly put off by the suave Steve. A big guy with dark hair came over to the table and introduced himself.
“Hi, Kelly, I’m Riley Williams.” Everyone here seemed to know who I was already.
“Kelly, if you want to hear about the Q, you should talk to a guy who’s a star and not a scrub,” Steve said, clearly meaning himself. Riley nodded. He seemed to be Steve’s sidekick.
I ignored that insulting suggestion and tried to find my hot dog fascinating.
Steve was relentless. “So, what position do you play?” He emphasized the word “position” like a dirty joke.
Since I spent a lot of time at hockey rinks, I ended up meeting guys like Steve, who put an innuendo on every remark they made and spent more time staring at my chest than my face. My way of dealing with them was to play it innocent. You didn’t know what they were talking about, you didn’t get why they were laughing, and you kept as far away from them as possible.
“Left wing,” I replied. How could anyone put an innuendo on that?
“So, you must be—fast—with soft hands.” Wow, this guy was good. Zero to stomach churning in 2.5 seconds.
“No, I am slow with hands of cement,” I lied. Well, I wasn’t slow anyway.
“Ha ha. Funny, too, I like that in a girl.” Steve leaned towards me, and I leaned back. “Have you got a boyfriend?”
Oh, for crying out loud. Time to stop this train in its tracks. “Yes, a huge one. 6’ 5.” 275 pounds. His name is Thor, and he’s a D-man with big muscles and a bad temper. Did I mention homicidally jealous?”
“Why do I not believe you?”
“Your mistake then. You can say goodbye to those shiny white teeth if you make the wrong move.”
“Which is?”
“Any move in my direction.”
I wanted to get away, but I couldn’t be totally rude to this guy. I had to work with him for three weeks. I looked around desperately.
Jimmy was walking by with his tray, all finished with his dinner.
“Hey, Jimmy, is it time for our tour?” I called out.
He turned and gave me a look. Not totally stunned but close.
“Did you already forget? You were going to show me, uh, everything around here.”
Steve interrupted. “If you need a tour, Kelly, I would be more than happy to give you a very special one.” Yeah, and I bet I knew where that tour would end up.
“Maybe next time, Steve-O,” Jimmy said, the light finally going on in his head. “I did promise Kelly, and I gotta keep my promises.”
I stood and gathered up my half-eaten dinner. “Okay, see you guys later. Bye, Eric.” Eric snorted up a little bit of pudding when I said his name, and he started coughing again. As I walked out of the dinner hall with Jimmy, I breathed a sigh of relief. But in some ways it was out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“Where exactly did I promise to take you?” Jimmy asked with one eyebrow raised.
“Argh. You don’t have to take me anywhere, I was only trying to get away from Steve.” I bit into the apple I
had snagged from my tray. I didn’t even get to finish my dinner.
“No, it’s cool. You don’t have to make excuses. I get that you want to be with me. But you could ask me out like a normal person instead of stealing my stuff and making up dates.”
“Oh my God, you’re worse than he is. I am not coming on to you. Is this hockey camp or hook-up camp?”
Jimmy smiled smugly. “Most girls actually like Steve-O. He’s a bit of a ladies man.”
“Maybe for the terminally desperate. Oh sorry, is he your friend?”
“I used to look up to him when I was younger, but he had some setbacks in the Q and now he’s kind of negative, so not really. We get along good though.”
I pitched the apple core into the woods. “Well, I think I’ll be going back to my room now. Thanks for the save.”
“But Kelly, what if Steve-O or one of the other guys sees you? I think we better do at least a short tour—to protect your reputation.”
I snorted in reply to that. Jimmy was more interesting than anyone else I had met so far, but that wasn’t saying much. He was fun to talk to but kind of odd. We walked around the camp, and he was actually useful, showing me the trail that led to the arena and taking me to all the other areas, like the activities room, the campfire pit, and the dryland training zones.
“You’ve been coming here for years?” He seemed familiar with every corner.
Jimmy nodded. “The first time I got here, man, I was pumped. To do hockey stuff all day, and to be coached by Burt—he played for Detroit you know—well, it was the best thing I could imagine.”
I smiled up at Jimmy and nodded. “That’s sweet. It’s easy to imagine you as a boy here.” Mainly because he still looked like a kid.
He blinked his wide eyes at me and cleared his throat. “We’re playing a little pickup hockey tonight. You in?”
“Sure.” I wondered if it was full contact. I doubted it, since nobody wanted to get hurt before the camp even began.
“Seven-thirty, at the rink.”
Our tour led back to the camp, and I went to my room to unpack and get settled. I had a ton of restless energy. I called my parents to let them know I got here okay. Then I arranged my limited t-shirt and shorts collection in my drawers. I re-taped my sticks. Finally, I grabbed my gear and headed to the rink. Some of the guys looked surprised to see me, but others smiled in a friendly way.
Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Two Page 3
