This chapter is dedicated to Maja, my latest new subscriber on Patreon. Thanks for your support!
"You didn't even look!" Nadine yelled in frustration as the puck clanged against the goal cage. I spun on the spot, and took a triumphant bow. We'd been planning to meet up today and chat about how we were getting on; it was our last chance to meet until school started again. But she'd suggested we get some practice in while the weather was good, so we were zooming up and down the rink, practising shooting or tackling, playing a freestyle one-on-one game and shouting questions at each other as we passed. Somehow the energy in the air made it easier to talk about things we might otherwise have missed.
"Why look?" I called back. "I know where the goal is. I know where I am. And I know which way is a straight line between them."
"That's what Hugo taught you?" her next question came as she grabbed the puck and started speeding back down to the other end of the rink, desperate to equalise the score. We weren't playing normal rules now, just taking turns to be on offence, so I was racing to catch up and get to my goal ahead of her. "For basketball, I mean."
"Yeah. Different sport, but it still works. He's taught me a lot of things, but..." I couldn't spare the breath to talk as I dived in closer, bringing my stick down in front of hers and taking possession. Turning around before I hit the back barrier was the hard part, and I skidded as I tried to check my speed. Nadine took advantage of that moment of confusion, sweeping the ball to one side so that it ricocheted off the barrier, and they were both scrambling to reach it first.
"But you wish he was your boyfriend, right?" Nadine spoke again a minute later. "He's teaching you all this stuff, but you wish it was more."
"Not more, it's just different. This is something I wanted, you know?"
"Truth or score?" she said, flashing me a smile. And I'd heard of that before, I knew it was a game between a handful of girls on the quads team. Kind of like 'truth or dare' I guessed, which I'd read about in some romance novel when I had nothing better to ease boredom, but never had an excuse to play in the real world.
After she put the puck in the goal again, I asked Nadine what she meant, and she explained. It was a thing to increase motivation in practice. When you take possession of the puck, you can ask a question. If you score, the person who let you past has to answer honestly. No lies, but more importantly, you have to look inside yourself and avoid saying what you want to think, or what you expect the right answer to be. I agreed to that, because I knew this game was my specialty, and I didn't intend to let Nadine past me if I could help it. Would a forfeit really make a difference?
"Would you rather have him be your boyfriend?" she asked, the first time she had the puck.
"Like, instead of a coach? I don't know. Lots of fun, and new friends, and a whole new hobby I'm getting into?" I really wasn't sure. I mean, Hugo was cute, and I loved every minute I spent with him. Even when he was pushing me hard; or especially when he pushed me. Even when it hurt. Was that what love was supposed to feel like, or was it just that we were doing something together that I really enjoyed? And was there a difference? As soon as I tried to think about what my answer would be, I realised I didn't even know.
Clang! The puck slammed into the back of the goal and skipped across the ground. I'd been so caught up in the question, distracted for just a second, that Nadine had gotten past me.
"Okay, that's too tough for you?" she smirked. "Would you be happier if he said he wanted to date you?"
I tried to imagine my response, and it wasn't hard.
"Yeah," I mumbled. "Wow, you got under my skin with that one. Easy point. And that's the point, isn't it? Think too much about the questions, you lose the puck. You have to trust your ability to answer on instinct."
"Something like that," she said. But I was already scooping up the puck, and starting my run down to her end of the rink. "Hey!"
"Your boyfriend then!" I called as she raced to catch up. Controlling the puck slowed me down a little, but I didn't think she was in any position to intercept. "You keep saying you're happy. Would you trade everything you've got going on now for a guy who wants sex, like you expected?" I pulled my stick back and swung before she could think about it, and called it a clean point.
"I don't know," she said, with bad grace. "I'm an adult now, practically. I'm ready for sex. But feeling so close, like somebody really cares, and the way he gets inside my head? I wouldn't trade that, not without knowing he'd be really good. And that was... cheating!"
"Hey!" I called after her, as I realised she'd set off towards the other goal before she even finished speaking. I pushed so hard that my calves burned, and managed to close the distance, racing straight down the centre field while she took the left.
"How would you feel if he said he'd be your boyfriend, and then all he wants to do is play some ball game?"
I spun on the spot, flicked it into the air halfway to the goal, and then kicked off against the boundary to chase the wild puck. Nadine had thought she had an easy shot, and it took her a second to react and turn around.
"My turn," I gasped. My mind was racing as I tried to think of a truth to demand, and put it in as few words as possible so that I didn't pause for breath and break my stride. Nadine was pretty open, talking about things I was nervous to even think about. She thought about her boyfriends or potential boyfriends every minute, and she knew there was only one thing most boys wanted. If talking about sex embarrassed her, she wouldn't have had such a complex and varied string of relationships. And then something occurred to me. I paused for a second, lining up my shot as I thought about it. "Hey, Nadine. Have you actually had sex with a guy?"
"What? I'm an adult, I can–" the pause gave her enough time to get between me and the goal, but I never quite stopped weaving and I shot straight past her. "Crap. No, okay? Happy now, going to call me a little kid?"
"No. I just thought... you're the one always telling me how important it is. I hardly know anything about it, and I don't think about it. I never had a boyfriend either, but if I enjoy spending time with somebody... who cares what we're doing? I don't get why doing this one thing together matters."
"I... Me neither, I guess. Everybody says you're not an adult until you've done it. I never questioned that. And it feels like a guy who won't is telling me I'm not ready."
"Or he isn't. It's not an age thing, right?"
She didn't go for the puck. She skated closer, circled me for a second, and then went in for a hug.
"That's kind of what Jim said, just in different words. I should stop thinking about like... boyfriend, or lover, or friend. And just think about what feels natural, and what makes everybody happy? That's what you're saying?"
"Works for me," I said, and then realised that she was on the move again, while I was facing the wrong way.
It had been a good psyche-out. There was no way I was catching her that time.
"If a guy wanted to date and then he treated you like a little kid, how would you feel?" she called back, and then took the shot. I was miles away, and I could only watch it go in.
"How like a kid?" I asked. "Like... saying we don't need sex?" That was all I could imagine she meant, after the last answer.
"Like... saying things that feel to you like he's treating you like a kid. Like you arranged a date to watch the new Shark movie on Netflix and he puts on freaking Deer Detective, and gives you a cup of juice or something."
"I..." I mumbled. I couldn't give her a real answer then, and not least because I couldn't clear my mind. The mental images were too real. Like, if I asked Hugo to go out with me and he treated me like he'd acted towards Lindy when he was babysitting a couple of years ago? I would have been over the moon just because he was there, and his presence made me feel so good. And to be treated like a baby too? I couldn't get those thoughts out of my head.
"Have to tell the truth, Sal. I don't make the rules."
"Fine. I'd love it, okay?"
"I don't mean like making it a joke like Jim does. Not like that pacifier, that's just us both laughing at the age difference. I mean actually treating you like a kid. Wait... you never even took down the Deer Detective poster in your room. Did you? Maybe you'd be okay with that. But what if he was treating you like a real baby? Further than anything you could put up with."
"Seriously? I'd be happy," I told her. "I won't change my mind. It's the person that matters, and doing something fun. Maybe we're wired different, but you can get used to anything. You can enjoy anything if you give it a chance. If it's somebody I really cared about, –"
"Like Hugo Eisen?"
"Yeah, like Hugo. If it's somebody I care about, I would do whatever he wanted. Just to be there with him. And I would be happy."
I grabbed the puck again, and Nadine kept pace with me this time. I wouldn't get such a clear shot. I jinked towards the boundary and faced her side on, not giving her a clear angle to steal.
"Okay, if you care so much about–"
"Sally!" she screamed, and I turned quickly to see where she was pointing. She'd dropped her stick to move towards me, so something had to be wrong. And it was; there was a broken bottle on the edge of the rink, and it was hard to believe we'd been here so long without noticing the debris. Big pieces as well, not just the powder that safety glass turned into; maybe some drunks had broken their glasses too. I did not want my skates to kick up glass and end up cutting myself. I tried to swerve away, but I was already turning to see where she was pointing. I didn't see the danger until I was right on top of it, and a moment's panic threw me off balance. I tumbled to the ground, my arms hitting the rink surface. Seconds later I could feel that I'd taken the skin off my left shoulder and elbow, but it was okay. I wasn't cut.
I pulled myself to my feet again, and mumbled wordless thanks to Nadine. There was no way of knowing how bad I could have been hurt if she hadn't seen that. I'd hit the glass anyway, but been lucky enough that the worst I'd suffered was a deep cut in my shorts. Looking down at the ragged tript of fabric that hung loose, I knew I would have to go to a skilled seamstress like Mum for half a dozen stitches.
"Thanks," I said again. "That could have been so..." I stopped when I saw that my friend had gone pale.
"Sally?" she asked, still pointing at the hole in my clothes. "Are you wearing a...?"
She couldn't bring herself to ask the question, but she wasn't demanding the truth this time. There was a unicorn print visible through the gap, and there was no mistaking my choice of underwear for the day.