Hope wrestled with the thought of how to break the news to her mother that she was no longer part of the team without revealing her true reasons. The weight of guilt over her feelings for girls had been a constant companion. Despite several attempts to date guys and fit into the expected mold, by the age of seventeen, she had accepted her truth. However, she was determined to shield her mother from any potential hurt or disappointment, for as long as possible.
Hoping to transition to a new team before informing her mom, she sought to minimize any overtures her mother might make to rectify the situation with her previous coach.
First on her list was the Frostbite Vipers.
Years ago, Hope had auditioned for a spot on their roster, but things didn't pan out. While her speed and passing skills were exceptional, tension between her mom and another parent had led to her withdrawal from consideration. Despite the setback, the Vipers had gone on to clinch six championships in the past decade. Reentering their domain, this time as a prospective player and not an opponent, felt vastly different.
She had scheduled a meeting with the Vipers' coach, but it was cut short. Rumors about her had permeated through the hockey community. It wasn't her sexuality that was the issue, but rather the label of being "disruptive" that her former coach had slapped on her. The implication was clear: her skills were undeniable, but her alleged ability to disrupt team cohesion made her a liability.
Subsequent visits to other teams that day ended in similar fashion. Brief meetings, polite rejections, and a clear message that she wasn't the right fit.
Faced with dwindling options and the inevitable conversation with her mom looming, Hope pondered her next move. How could she articulate her decision to abandon hockey in their town without revealing the full story? The challenge of crafting a convincing excuse loomed large.
As Hope approached her home, a lingering thought resurfaced — there was another team she could consider. Yet, considering the tumultuous history she shared with one of its members, it seemed like an impossible choice. The alternative was to come clean about her well-guarded secret, a truth she deemed unspeakable.
Facing her mother, the warmth and affection in her mother's eyes stopped her short. She couldn't drop a bombshell that would shatter that trust. Without a word, she retreated to her car and headed thirty minutes across town, arriving at a more modest stadium than the one she was accustomed to. As she entered, players from the evening's practice streamed out.
Navigating the familiar corridors, she found herself outside the coach's office. A knock later, she was greeted with an inviting, "Come in."
Upon recognizing Hope, the coach's face broke into a genuine smile. "I had a feeling you'd show up."
"Does that mean you've already made up your mind about me?"
"Stories and first-hand experiences are poles apart. I don't put stock in rumors, but you should be aware of what it means to wear our jersey."
Hope waited, uncertain of his intent.
"Look behind you."
Turning, Hope's eyes landed on a sign that read, "Honor your teammates, honor the game, honor yourself."
"Do you believe you can embody these principles?" he questioned.
With a determined nod, Hope replied, "Yes."
"Then lace up. We're hitting the ice."
A mix of exhilaration and trepidation filled her. This wasn't a straightforward inclusion; it was a tryout.
Emerging onto the ice, she spotted the coach positioned beside the net. He didn't go easy on her, setting her through a grueling series of drills. However, Hope's resilience was evident. At the end of the session, the coach extended an offer with a caveat. She was a newcomer, and she'd have to earn her stripes. No special privileges would be given, irrespective of her reputed prowess in the league.
Walking off the ice, a shadow of doubt clouded Hope's thoughts. Her previous successes were tightly linked with Ava. Was she capable of shining just as brightly without her?
Still catching her breath, Hope was startled by the distant sound of skates on the icy surface. Curiosity piqued, she approached the rink's edge to see who would still be practicing this late. The graceful figure that met her gaze was unmistakably Lizzie Saltzman — a cascade of blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a fiery spirit to match.
The sight of Lizzie, adorned in a delicate figure skating attire, was in stark contrast to the fierce hockey player Hope remembered. Each stride, spin, and jump she executed seemed to defy gravity, an embodiment of grace and strength. The very air around Lizzie seemed to shimmer, capturing the magic of her performance.
As if sensing Hope's gaze, Lizzie slowed her pace, eventually stopping just inches from the glass separating them. A palpable tension filled the air as their eyes locked, conveying a myriad of emotions words couldn't capture.
Without breaking their gaze, Lizzie pushed off once again, continuing her dance on the ice. Watching her, it became evident to Hope why Lizzie was such a formidable opponent in hockey. Her background in figure skating had given her a unique edge, enabling her to weave through opponents with unparalleled agility and grace. It was a revelation, providing insight into the enigmatic player that was Lizzie Saltzman.
Hope's fingers itched to lace up her skates and join Lizzie on the ice, to share that space of freedom and expression. Yet, the memory of their previous confrontations held her back, reminding her of the unseen wall that stood between them.
Lost in thought, Hope tried to pinpoint the root of their rivalry. Had it been pure competition, two top players butting heads on the ice? Or had it been more than that? Was it a tinge of envy she felt towards Lizzie's unparalleled skills? Or perhaps it had been something deeper, an emotion she hadn't been ready to acknowledge or understand.
Their past encounters replayed in Hope's mind — every shove, every sharp word exchanged. But interspersed among those memories were fleeting moments of mutual respect, admiration, and even camaraderie. Moments that made her question the real reason behind their animosity.
Absorbed in thought, Hope was startled by a knock on her car window. She looked up to see Lizzie, her eyes gleaming with mischief. As the window descended, the charged atmosphere between them was unmistakable.
"Hey," Hope murmured, her voice softer than she intended.
"Heard you made the team. Just remember, keep your distance and we'll be just fine," Lizzie flirted back with a teasing tone.
Hope leaned a bit closer, her eyes locked onto Lizzie's, "With the way you glide on the ice, I'm not sure I could get close even if I tried. But who knows? Maybe I'd like the challenge."
Lizzie's lips curled into a playful smile, "You do have a killer wrist shot, Hope. I'll give you that. It's something you have on me.
What was expected to be a confrontation quickly evolved into playful and flirty banter, the spark between the two undeniable.
Seeing Lizzie in just her socks, Hope beckoned her over. "You want to go somewhere with me?," she offered. After a quick dash back to get her shoes, Lizzie joined Hope in the car, a bubble of silence forming between them.
Lizzie smirked as she got into the passenger seat. The two found themselves stealing glances at each other amidst the silence.
"Do you like ice cream?" Hope ventured.
"Who doesn't?" Lizzie replied with a grin.
Hope pulled out of the parking lot, asking, "So, favorite flavor?"
Lizzie thought for a moment, the playful spark still in her eyes. "Nuts over caramel. And you?"
Trying to keep the mood light, Hope responded, "Every single one."
"No cheating. Choose."
"Alright, alright, nuts over caramel."
Lizzie feigned a pout, "You can't just steal my favorite!"
"Watch me," Hope challenged as they pulled into the ice cream parlor's drive-through.
A cheerful voice came from the intercom, "What can I get you today?"
"Two pints. One Nuts over Caramel and one Cookie Dough," Hope ordered.
Lizzie smirked, "Knew you'd go for the cookie dough."
The two settled into a comfortable silence as they began to savor their ice creams in the car's dim light.
"You know," Hope started, hesitatingly, "I genuinely despised you once."
Lizzie's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Despised? That's a heavy word. But, the feeling was mutual."
Drawing a deep breath, Hope said, "Now that we're on the same side, let's channel that energy and show everyone what we're made of."
Lizzie's expression turned serious, "I'm in. But I have to ask... Why did you leave your old team? Didn't you guys just secure the top spot?"
Hope's face clouded over. "It's... a long story."
"We have time," Lizzie prompted gently.
Hope's grip tightened on her ice cream container, her voice barely above a whisper, "It's not something I'm ready to talk about. It's still too raw."
Lizzie quickly sensed the depth of Hope's pain. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried."
As they finished their ice creams, Hope offered to drive Lizzie home. However, Lizzie preferred to return to the stadium. Hope, understanding Lizzie's respect for boundaries, silently nodded, dropped her off, and drove home, steeling herself for the conversation with her mother.
The dim glow of the living room lights welcomed Hope as she entered her house, the hour already late. She could hear the subtle hum of a TV show, punctuated by the occasional dramatic music typical of vampire dramas. Her mother was still awake, her eyes fixed on the screen, yet her presence felt distant.
Taking a deep breath, Hope made her way over, sinking down onto the couch beside her mother. The weight in her heart made her feel even more tired than she already was. "Mom, can we talk?" she asked, her voice hesitant.
Without turning her gaze from the TV, her mother responded, "Is this about the new team you've joined?"
Surprised, Hope turned to face her. "How did you...?"
Her mother finally looked at her, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and hurt. "The coach called. Asked for my consent. You're still underage, remember?"
Hope's heart rate picked up. "What did you tell him?"
"I said yes," her mother replied, her voice strained. "But I want to know why. Why you left the Pythons without telling me, and then joined a completely different team?"
Swallowing hard, Hope whispered, "I didn't like the atmosphere there anymore, Mom. It wasn't right for me."
Her mother's gaze softened slightly, but the hurt was still palpable. "Just that? That's the only reason?"
Hope nodded, her eyes downcast. "Yes."
A heavy silence settled between them. "You know," her mother began, her voice breaking slightly, "it hurts that you felt you had to go through this alone. That you couldn't trust me enough to come to me with your problems."
A tear rolled down Hope's cheek as she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Mom." She got up, feeling the weight of the conversation. "I truly am."
As she made her way upstairs, she was grateful for one thing: her mother hadn't pressed for more details. Not tonight.
As the soft glow of the moonlight filtered through her curtains, Hope lay cocooned in the warmth of her bed. The sheets felt comforting against her skin, and for a moment, a smile danced on her lips as she replayed the memories of the night. It was strange how life could twist and turn so unpredictably. Lizzie, someone who she had once regarded as her fiercest rival, was now part of her team. The laughter, the shared ice cream, the easy banter - it felt surreal.
However, as the night deepened, a shadow of sorrow began to creep over her happiness. Memories of Ava, her once inseparable companion, consumed her thoughts. They had been more than just teammates; they had been soulmates on and off the field. Their nights used to be filled with endless conversations, shared dreams, and promises of a forever bond. Those cherished moments under the starlit skies, where they spoke until the first light of dawn touched the world, seemed like a distant dream now. The piercing realization that she had not just lost a teammate but a part of her own soul left Hope in a torrent of tears. With each sob, she felt a piece of her heart break, the pain so intense it felt physical. She clutched her pillow tightly, her tears soaking it, each drop echoing the deep sorrow she felt. The tranquility of her bed was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging within her. Sleep eventually claimed her, but it was restless and filled with dreams of what once was.
On a starkly different part of the town, the grandeur of the stadium stood tall against the night sky, its vastness enveloped in darkness. Lizzie, far removed from the comfort of a home, found a corner for herself. She meticulously spread out her backpack on the cold floor, placing it strategically close to the heater for some semblance of warmth. Pulling out a blanket emblazoned with the team's logo, she wrapped it tightly around herself, taking a moment to absorb the heat radiating onto her back. The silence of the stadium was deafening, each creak and distant echo amplifying her solitude. Lizzie's thoughts wandered to Hope, wondering if she too was reminiscing about their newfound camaraderie. As she closed her eyes, the weight of her current circumstances pressed heavily on her heart. Yet, deep down, she held on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow would bring a brighter day.