Training the Team (Dougie Hamilton)

Dougie's Birthday (Part 1)

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were spent outside doing more team building stuff, and I found I got way closer to the guys. For instance, on Wednesday we learned Soupy is a great wakeboarder. On Thursday, it was that Pasta has a fear of bats from going caving. Friday was that Carl can rap Eminem faster than Eminem can himself. The whole week was great, and then the rest of the days seemed kind of boring. Another week passed in all its plainness, leaving me with a routine schedule. However, everyone's getting ramped up for tonight, which is Dougie's big birthday bash (Brad calls it that, not anyone else).

Wednesday, June 17

"Kylie, are you ready to paaaaaaaaaarty?" Brad shouts, running into the common room. 

Dougie is pushed in wearing a silver party hat and a feather boa around his neck, looking like he hates every minute of this.

"Tonight, Brad. Not now," I remind a vibrating Marshy.

"Since they aren't going to be able to focus at all, Claude said he'd run some on ice drills today. You're welcome to join them," Whitey informs me.

"No, no, I'm good-"

"It wasn't a suggestion," Whitey says mischievously, and I groan.

"Noooooooo!"

"Yes, go grab some skates. You won't need full equipment," he calls as I go to one of the storage closets.

"You probably wouldn't have my size pads anyway," I mumble to myself, rooting through boxes of skates until I find a pair.

I grab them and leave the closet, sitting down on a bench inside the rink to tie them on. I'm only wearing skates, so this should be fun. I don't have a helmet, gloves, or stick, and I'm currently wearing shorts. I hover awkwardly at the door to get on the ice, looking out at the smooth surface. It's been years since I stepped on. I back away and almost run into Claude.

"I've been looking for you! Here, we found an extra practice jersey. It's a little big, but I figured it was better than nothing."

I take the black jersey from Claude.

"Thank you very much. I was worried about skating in shorts and a t-shirt."

I pull the jersey over my head, and it hits me mid-thigh.

"You'll need a stick, too. What hand do you shoot?"

"Left," I say.

Claude hands me a stick, and I wrap my fingers around it. It's just the right height, and I have no idea whose stuff I'm using. I get gloves but no helmet, which makes me nervous. Instead, I'm given a baseball hat to wear. I pull it on my head, probably looking like a crazed fan, and wait for the guys to step out on the ice. As usual, Dougie's one of the first on. He sees me standing there and grins.

"Is my extra small jersey a bit big on you, Kylie?"

I shove his chest with both hands. "If that's a short joke, so help me...."

Dougie laughs, grabs my stick, and drags me onto the ice. I nearly faceplant as I get out there, and I attach myself to Dougie's arm and waist as he moves.

"What, have you never skated before?"

"It's been a long while," I say nervously.

"It's just like riding a bike. You won't forget."

Dougie peels me off of him and then sheds our gloves and sticks. He's standing so he's facing me, getting ready to skate backward and pull me. His hands are outstretched, palms up, and I hesitantly slide mine into his. His grip tightens and he moves backward. I jerk, nearly falling over, but Dougie's hands don't let me.