❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜
chapter four: the losers club
if you understand the reference above, i love you so much
tw(s): none, i don't think
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
BOMBAY WORKED HIS magic and recruited Fulton Reed for the team. Emma considered him to be a lot more intimidating before she saw him plummet down a flight of stairs in the mall like Alan Rickman in Die Hard.
Goldberg and Emma shoot through the building side by side. He steals a churro from a man sitting in the food court, breaks it half, and tosses the other piece to Emma. She offers some to Charlie, who snatches it from her hand and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth. He smiles at her cheekily with a chipmunk-like face before turning around and joining Jesse.
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
Bombay proudly lays out a bright green jersey with a cheesy cartoon duck printed on it.
"The Ducks? We're the Ducks?" Jesse asks.
"Man, what brain-dead jerk came up with that name?" Peter giggles.
"As a matter of fact, I did," Bombay replies, looking a bit offended.
"Jeez, Pete, nice going," Emma mutters, nudging his side.
"But I didn't have a choice," Bombay continues. "We're being sponsored."
Emma guesses it makes sense, since Mr. Ducksworth is their sponsor. Oh, what she would give for him to be named Mr. Tigersworth or something.
"Sponsored by who? Donald and Daisy?" Averman grins.
"Hey! Don't you wanna be Ducks?" Nope. Not really. "You'd rather be district five? Some stupid number?"
"Better than some stupid animal," Peter shoots back. Bombay walks from his place in the room to where Peter and Emma are sitting.
"I'll have you know, Peter, that the duck is one of the most noble, agile, and intelligent creatures in the animal kingdom." Right. So, not us.
"But they're wimpy," Connie says.
"They don't even have teeth," Guy adds.
"Neither do hockey players," Bombay says. They all laugh. He has a point. "Have you guys ever seen a flock of ducks flying in perfect formation? It's beautiful. Pretty awesome when they all stick together. Ducks never say die. Ever seen a duck fight? No way. Why? Because the other animals are afraid. They know that if they mess with one duck, they gotta deal with the whole flock."
Well, same goes for bees, and millions of them die every day because of their "defense-mechanism." But Emma stays silent. Bombay takes off his coat, revealing the same jersey.
"I'm proud to be a Duck. And I'd be proud to fly why any one of you. How 'bout it? Who's a Duck?"
"I'll be a Duck," Fulton announces.
"Yeah, me too," Charlie says. They follow Fulton and Charlie to the jerseys and pick theirs out. Emma finds the one with her name on it. And she figures Bombay's a much better listener than she anticipated. Because her jersey is printed with a single name.
Hart.
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
The ref blows his whistle and Bombay gathers us into a circle.
"Alright. Let's forget the past," Bombay instructs. "We lost a few games, tough. That was district five. Now we're the Ducks."
"Yeah."
"Ducks!"
The team cheers and quacks wildly.
"What the hell was that?" Emma hears a spectator ask. She turns around, smiles at him, and raises both her middle fingers at him. He whispers something to the man beside him and looks away, shaking his head.
The game goes amazingly. As in, they actually win a goal.
"Defense, Karp, defense!" Karp and an opposing player stand nearly face-to-face. Emma can see it in his expression. He doesn't know what to do. She skates over to assist him, just as the player attempts to shoot. And it goes right into her face.
"Damn it," she groans. "I don't wanna go to school today."
"Hart, how many fingers am I holdin' up?" Bombay asks. She doesn't want to tell him that she doesn't know. Her vision is clouded with pain and a ringing sound in her ears.
"She wouldn't know that anyway," Charlie comments.
"Shut up, Charlie."
"Hart, you okay?"
"Look at this."
Emma spots her helmet, with a nasty dent on it.
"The Hart-ster used her head to stop the puck," Averman jests. "Miss Hart-a-lanee."
After much resistance, she's carried off the ice by her team, who replaces her with the secret weapon. Fulton. She gives him a light pat on the back as good luck. And it's easier than she expected. The mere sight of Fulton causes all the other players to run from their original spots. Out of his warpath. He shoots...he scores!
They all whoop and cheer in the locker rooms and take off their skates. Emma lazily wipes sweat off of her flushed skin, and Bombay appears through the doorway.
"Hey, why aren't you guys in uniform? We've got warmups in half an hour," he asks. "Alright, everyone, listen up! I got some good news. We're getting a new player. Adam Banks."
Banksie?
Everyone groans and yells words of disbelief.
"Yes, Banksie, my bitch," Emma celebrates, nodding her head in approval.
"He's a Hawk," Karp says, nudging her ribs.
"He's a good player," Bombay says back.
"Everyone hates him," Jesse says with a disgusted face. "Except for Hart. And she likes everyone."
"Yeah, even you, Jesse," Emma says, zipping up her bag. He glares at her.
"We don't need him," Connie declares.
"I'm the coach. I say we do need him. If we make it to the play-offs, he could be a big help."
"'If?' All of a sudden, you don't think we're good enough?" Karp asks.
"No, he thinks we're losers," Peter says. "That's what he told Reilly."
What?
"C'mon, we heard what you said. You said we were losers, that we didn't deserve to live."
"That's not what I meant," Bombay insists.
"Well, you better have a good explanation, because there's not a lot of things that can mean," Emma grumbles.
"I saw a picture of you missing that goal. You were a Hawk, weren't you? Guess you guys stick together to the end," Peter says, stepping forward. "Y'know what? I don't need your stinkin' equipment. See you around." He walks out. Okay. Wait. Rewind. What happened? Emma doesn't know if it's her headache or what's actually going on, but she feels super disoriented.
"Peter, come back here! I'm talkin' to you, son!"
"He's not your son," Emma says. "That'd be kind of unfortunate for him."
"Forget it, cake-eater. If you wanna play, play with yourself. Come on, Terry," Jesse says, patting his brother's jersey and getting up to leave. If that's what Bombay really said, that's really messed up. But Emma hates feeling like a quitter. But she also hates feeling alone. So she sends them both a pleading look, to which Jesse shakes his head. "We love you, Hart, but not enough to deal with this."
"Where do you guys think you're goin'?" The audacity of this man. They heard him say they didn't deserve to live, and he didn't attempt to explain any further than That's not what I meant. Of course they're leaving. They have the courage to stand up. They're not weak like Emma.
No. I won't be weak, Emma tells herself. I won't let myself be dragged around. I won't let someone who's actually kind of shitty have any authority over me, no matter how much I love hockey. I won't let it happen. I won't, I won't, I won't.
"Y'know. Just out n' about. Bye, coach." Emma doesn't say it as sarcastically as she wants to. So in an attempt to leave in less than a huff as all the others, she sends him an apologetic smile and walks out.
"Hart! C'mon!" Bombay tries.
"I need a break. Just a short one. Good luck, Bombay."
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
Emma hears that Bombay had to forfeit. She feels kind of terrible, because she's never one to hold a huge grudge, and she wasn't even that angry in the first place. She just did it to prove a point to herself. But she feels weird saying sorry as well because it seems pointless. After all, it's about one fourth her fault.
She walks into Mickey's Diner and is met with Casey Conway.
"Hi, sweetie. I need to take a short break, so is it okay if you cover for me for now?" she asks, untying her apron. "I have a basket of garlic fries for you on the counter."
"Yeah, of course, Ms. Conway. Thank you so much for the fries."
"No, thank you, dear. And call me Casey. Really, you're a lifesaver."
Emma goes into the kitchen to get an apron, but on the way, she notices Charlie, sitting alone on a barstool. Bombay approaches him and sits next to him. As she ties her pink apron, she contemplates going for the white one instead, since Charlie's here.
A memory from a year ago resurfaces. The whole team was at the diner, squished into a worn leather booth, scanning the menu. Emma walked through the door, the autumn air was cold and salty, and the rust on the hinges squeaked. She wore a baby pink dress with small white flowers on them. Her stylist had told her pink was her color. Connie wolf-whistled at her and said to give her a twirl. Guy elbowed Charlie, causing him to look up abruptly from his shiny, laminated menu. What do you think, Charlie? She's pretty, huh? Guy raised his eyebrows at Charlie like, Hello, say something. So Charlie did.
Pink looks terrible on you. Don't know what you guys are on.
Wrong. She looked gorgeous. But he would never let her know that.
Oh. You really think so? Emma asked, the cheerful creases below her eyes disappearing.
Yup. Averman could wear that dress better.
Really? Thank you! Averman said, not noticing how the atmosphere of the room had changed.
Emma shakes her head of the memory and continues to tie the knot. What the hell does Charlie Conway know about fashion, anyway?
Emma approaches Charlie and Bombay with a friendly smile.
"Hey, can I get you a cup of coffee?"
"Yeah, sure," Bombay says. "Thanks, kid."
Charlie scoffs as Emma walks away to the steaming pot sitting on the counter.
"Jeez, Charlie, why do you hate her so much?"
"I don't hate her."
"Oh yeah?" Bombay asks with a raised eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Sure, she has...many fine qualities that guys find attractive."
"Really? Care to elaborate?"
Charlie rolls his eyes.
"She's smart. Thinks real hard and gets straight A's and shit. She's funny in a way that I don't really get, but other people seem to enjoy. And..." Charlie scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Hmm."
"And uh, I guess she's pretty. Like, she's kind of...really pretty," Charlie mutters.
"And there it is," Bombay laughs to himself.
"But none of that means anything since she's so annoying," Charlie adds in loudly.
"Right," Bombay says, exaggerating the t.
Emma brings back Bombay's coffee, with a little stirring stick and some small packs of creamer and sugar.
"Can I get you anything, Charlie? Some pancakes, some waffles..."
"I'm fine, Emma. Jeez."
"Oh, okay." Emma's eyes flicker to the linoleum tile floor and she walks back into the kitchen.
"Wow. Super annoying," Bombay says sarcastically after Emma is gone.
"Right? She's gotta learn to leave me alone."
On Monday, the Ducks are in class. Emma's elbows are resting on opposite sides of the desk, and her head is between her arms. She is ready to lose herself in darkness and blissful slumber when Karp's taunting voice rudely interrupts.
"How'd the forfeit go, Spazway?"
"Yeah, did you score?" Peter asks.
"Guys," Emma says groggily. "Leave it alone, he didn't do anything."
"God, Emma, just butt out! I don't need your help defending myself," Charlie says.
"Y'know, what even is your problem with her, man? She never did jack to you and you act like she's the biggest nuisance in existence," Karp says, raising his voice.
"It's none of your business, Karp," Charlie mutters.
"No, actually, it is our business, because she's our friend and we don't get why she isn't yours!" Peter bickers.
"I know why," Karp sneers. "He's a total dick and a traitor."
"Take it back, Karp!" Charlie shouts. He grabs Karp by the shoulders. "Take it back now!"
Connie and Emma try to pry Charlie off of Karp. Then Guy gets involved somehow. Then Averman. Then practically the whole class. It's a colossal mess. And the then the teacher comes back in. With the principal.
"My atoms!" he shouts when he notices them tossing his models around.
"You! Sit!" the principal says, pointing at Charlie. Charlie looks towards Emma. She covers for him in these sorts of situations. But this time, she doesn't know. Maybe there is some truth to what Karp said. Emma doesn't think Charlie's a traitor, but he is kind of a dick. She's always known it, but maybe it's time she stops endorsing it.
"What're you looking at?" Emma says to Charlie as she walks away to her seat.
"I have never in my life," the principal starts. "What have you got to say for yourselves?"
"Quack," Charlie says, smirking.
Wait, what?
The whole class erupts in a chant of quacks, and the principal looks around in astonishment. Which is how they all end up at sprawling chalkboards in room 223.
Right when they're almost finished writing the repetitions, the door opens to reveal Bombay.
"What do you want?" Karp asks.
"I just want to talk to you guys," Bombay says.
"People," Tammy corrects.
"Sit down, please. all of you."
He gives them a short talk and kind of explains why he said what he said to Reilly. He says he was being sarcastic, and they misunderstood him. Emma senses some tension and unresolved history between Reilly and Bombay that she might have to do some digging into later.
So, long story short, the Ducks are back together.
Emma walks up the cobblestone path of her colonial-style house. The intricately carved white pillars would be looming and intimidating to anyone else, but to her, it was home. To the right of the path, a manicured lawn displays a fountain made of a marble statue of a woman in a silk tunic, holding a basket overflowing with water. To the left, there is a small garden that belongs to her mother; a rainbow of garden tulips, Juliet roses, hydrangeas, and forget-me-nots. The buds of the flowers droop their heads in exhaustion.
Emma jams her brass key into the lock, turning it with a click. The warmth of the heater melts the frost off her reddened cheeks. She takes off her hat and mittens and discards them on the kitchen table. Her mother is sitting at the counter with a bowl of Kraft mac n' cheese, her work attire still on, with an array of beige cardstock folders in front of her. Tiny little words in a boring font line the pages. She has a pink highlighter in her hand, and she is rocking it in between her index and middle finger.
"Hey, Ma," Emma greets. "Do you want me to make you something...other than mac n' cheese?"
Her mother looks up and sighs. Runs her fingers over her tired, pale face. Her eyes glisten with tears.
"Ma, are you okay? Is Ducksworth working you too hard?"
"No, Emma, nothing like that," her mother replies with a weak smile.
"What is it?"
"It's just...I hate that I've put you in a position where you have to walk home from school alone, where you have to ask me if I'm okay, and where you have to offer to make me food. I'm sorry. I really have failed, haven't I? I couldn't even make a guy stay so you could have a proper dad," her mother explains, leaning back in her chair.
"Don't say that. Dad did that on his own. And I understand, Ma. You do so much around the house and at work, I might as well take some responsibility for stuff," Emma says, pulling out a chair and sitting next to her mother.
"Yeah. But you should be taking responsibility for yourself. Not for me. And not because I'm not around enough, so you have to force yourself to be self-sufficient," her mother says, sighing again. "And I know I haven't been...participating in your life enough. How can I do that?"
"Well, I do have a hockey game coming up. You could bring Betty," Emma proposes.
"Yeah, I'll do that. I'm looking forward to it, sweetie."
"I love you, Ma."
"I love you, too."
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
CLARA'S CORNER
i made a benny rodriguez and a haley dunphy reference in the diner scene. did you catch it?? also, i didn't want to make emma's crush too obvious (blushing, being touchy, etc.) just because i feel like someone their age would try to keep it under wraps, but i also fear it's not obvious enough. what do you think?
"emma walked through the door, the autumn air was cold and salty, and the rust on the hinges squeaked."
ALL TOO WELL + AUGUST MASHUP ANYONE??