SEVENTY-ONE

Chapter One

SEVENTY-ONE

CHAPTER 1

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 1ST

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From upstairs, I can hear my mom's perky, uptight voice listing through my brother's hockey gear. I can almost feel his eye roll from all the way up here. This was his first game of the year, and showing up with no mouthguard was in no way near my mother's intentions. Although, with my dad's rushing, I'm sure we'll probably end up forgetting Nathan's hockey bag in the middle of our driveway.

Sometimes I'm glad I ditched ice hockey for soccer, especially at moments like these. Pre-game stresses, long car rides with annoying, over-encouraging parents, long lists of equipment weren't my idea of fun.

I continue to pack my duffle bag with countless non-necessities and crack a smile every time I hear Nathan snap at my mom, Natalie. It's obvious he's eager to get on the ice, that's all he ever wants to do.

When we finally all get our junk in our Suburban and my dad, Patrick jams the keys in the engine, it's almost seven pm, with an upcoming two hour drive to our hotel room in Cornwall.

As much as weekends like these are filled with annoyance, frustration and irritation, they're absolutely what I live for. Watching my brother hop on the ice brings the biggest smile to my face, and they're worth way more than getting wasted with trying-to-be-cool-hipsters.

Like usual, my dad blasts his pop music with a main goal to grind my gears as much as he can before I snap. Then, there's my mom who's constantly cracking jokes about anything she can. I guess I see where I get my self-embarrassment from.

Nathan, though, is probably the poster child. He's calm and cool headed and all he really does is sit in the back, back seat of the car and listen to cartoon movies. Not quite the genre a fifteen year old should be watching, but Nathan's Nathan.

So, I'm left gazing out the window, laughing my head off over Mom's stupidities and occasionally meeting eyes with my Dad through the mirror and grinning. If anything, my dad and I are the most similar; we both love getting a rise out of someone and act on impulse.

***

Once we arrive to our destination, Dad opens the trunk and shouts us all to take a bag. Naturally, Nathan grabs the biggest ones and heads straight for the stairs. That leaves us grabbing the rest and taking the elevator like the lazy people we are.

As we enter the hotel, a loud hum hits me, which I soon identify as an air conditioner buzzing over the collision of fingers on computer keyboards from the front desk and the business center a little to the left of it. Walking in the heart of the lobby, the smell of chlorine fills my lungs as I crinkle my nose; gross.

Dad walks up to the receptionist and converses about the room keys and whatnot. Meanwhile, I take a seat in one of the various red couches sitting along the wooden linoleum floors. In all honesty, the hotel is giving off a bad vibe, and I don't know if it's just me who's feeling it.

I try closing my eyes and letting the thoughts drift away. It's been a long day of practice, piled up with meaningless studying for my upcoming chemistry test. I just need to get organized and relax. A loud roar of what I presume to be a large crowd laughing snaps me out of my zen instantly, as the doubts of the manor return.

Don't get me wrong, the hotel is decent and all, but the flirtatious smiles the receptionist is giving my dad in addition to the rattling of the air purifier doesn't float my boat. Our hotel choice was once again, one of my dad's ways of grinding my gears. He knows I love to travel, so he decides to choose the hotel closest to the arena.