Stolen Jerseys / ✓

0.07: chapter six

I didn't think anything could be so bad.

When Coach blew the whistle, I quickly skated away from the net. I had managed to score a goal - one more than Jake - so I figured I was all right. Though, I was a sweating mess by the end and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep the rest of the week away.

Coach gave a long speech, though I mostly tuned out. When he ended it, I quickly walked onto the bleachers, kicked off my skates, and pulled my helmet off. I swung my gloves off and leaned backwards, trying to calm my erratic breathing. Sighing, I shoved my feet into a pair of sneakers and pulled my jersey off.

"Nice," a voice said, and I looked up to see Jake standing on the bleacher below me, "you did pretty good, Wilson. But I guess neither of us were at our prime, eh?"

I didn't answer, and watched Jake laugh and walk down the next bleacher. I glared and zipped up my bag quickly, "Fucking condecsending prick," I muttered, "hope you don't fall down the bleachers."

"Wow," a voice spoke out behind me, "who knew little Scott Wilson had such a mouth?"

I laughed and turned around, seeing Elle standing behind me. She was in an old-looking Marlies jersey and a pair of joggers. I smirked and shrugged, "Don't know. He just gives off that asshole vibe, you know?"

"Becuase he score more goals than you?"

"I scored more than him, thanks."

Elle rolled her eyes, "Not the point," she said, and I quirked an eyebrow at her, "I know you're gonna complain when I say this, and say I hurt your manly pride. But when I said I would help you out with a few things regarding your playing.. I wasn't trying to be rude. I was being sincere. You're a good player, Scott. I just want to help."

"I - "

"Don't say anything," Elle held up her hands and took a few steps back, "just promise to think on it."

That night, I laid in bed and did exactly as Elle asked.

I thought on her offer.

She was right. It did hurt my pride a bit to have her offer to, basically, tutor me in a few hockey things. I had always made the school teams without any extra help, but this was different. This was a real team and I was up against real people, who had managed to score the same chance as me.

Plus, I knew for a fact Elle was a brilliant player. Her dad was a coach, and I had even seen her in newspapers for her accomplishments regarding hockey. If someone like Elle - someone who was obviously good at hockey - wanted to help me out, what was the harm?

I shook my head and laid back in bed. I didn't want help. There was time before Coach started making cuts, and before the official team was made. I had time to improve my turns and even my stick handling, which, I noticed, could use a bit of improvement. I just needed to stay after more and practice.

I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to sleep, but it didn't work. I couldn't sleep.

I knew that what Elle was offering me was something I should take. Elle had said she thought I was a good player, and she just wanted to help. If she was being sincere, like she said, there really wasn't a reason to say no to her offer.

I groaned and pushed myself out of bed, knowing that if I didn't tell her that I agreed to letting her help, I'd never get the balls to do it. I wracked my brain for a way to contact her. Snapping, I remembered when Coach gave all of the players his house number in case we had to contact him. I bit my lip; I wasn't even sure Elle lived with her dad. But it was worth a shot.

I anxiously stood up and kicked my door closed behind me. I winced at the bang and heard Connor's bed creak.

"Go to bed, asshole!"

"Fuck off!" I called back, stumbling into the kitchen. I pulled out the paper with his number and typed it nervously. My fingers shook and I was about to hangout before I was connected. My mouth went dry and I muttered out the first thing I could, "Elle?"

"It's almost fucking midnight," she snapped, and I winced because I hadn't even realized how late it was, "what the hell do you want, Scott?"

I scratched the back of my hand and ran my fingers through my wavy, messy hair, "Um - about your offer?" I mumbled, drumming my fingers on the counter, "I want to, like, accept it? I mean.. I'm willing to go for one practice with you. If it works, then awesome. If it doesn't - "

"Great," Elle cut me off, "tomorrow. You don't have practice tomorrow, so meet me at the rink at noon and we'll start."

"You su - "

"Go to bed," Elle cut me off again.

I laughed, "Goodnight."

"G'night."

I hung up the phone and sighed. One practice.