Hutch
"Hutch!"
I wince when Coach screams my name. Everyone looks up, startled. The locker room has been loud and boisterous up until this point. What the fuck did I do? Is he going to switch me up to the second or third line? Panic hits fast and hard, but I do my best to school my expression so I don't show it.
"Mondoza, Wilson, get your asses in here too!"
The small intake of breath from Collin says it all. What the fuck is wrong?
The three of us trudge towards Coach's office where he's waiting with a glower on his face.
"Is that little spitfire of yours in the stands?" Coach asks, his voice dropping to a soft murmur.
"I don't know. She's sick. Got a fever. I took her meds, but I told her she didn't have to come if she's not feeling up to it. Why?"
"The owner of the Raptor's is here. He came by before earlier to get my take on you three. He'll be in the stands watching tonight's game. I wish that girl of yours were here."
Coach is just as superstitious as the rest of us so I don't understand why he told us the owner of the Raptors were in the stands tonight. It'll only put more pressure and stress on us.
"You three are starting tonight. Don't fuck this up."
We all nodded and wandered back to our lockers in a bit of a daze. I expected scouts, sure, but the owner? Owners rarely scouted players. They had other shit to do.
This is big.
"What do we do?" Noah whispered.
"We play like its our last game. We show up and put up. We make this our best game."
What if I'm not fast enough?
Nope. I'm not going there.
"We play for us, for our love of the game. We forget the fans, we forget the scouts, hell, we even forget the other team. We simply play for the sheer joy of being on the ice. It's the pressure and the stress that will make us fail. We just need to focus on what we love about the game and not think about the rest."
"Easier said than done," Collin muttered,
"I did it yesterday and I beat my best time."
They both stared at me shocked. I'd been fighting all month to get my time back and nothing worked.
"What the hell? How?"
"I brought Daisy here to show her why I love hockey. Why I love the ice. Girl can't skate for shit by the way. She called her skates weapons of mass destruction. She wasn't wrong."
They both laughed.
"But I put her on my back and showed her what it felt like to fly on the ice. Coach, the sneaky bastard, timed me. I beat my best time with her on my back. I wasn't thinking about the scouts, about making it into the NHL, about anything but how it felt to fly across the ice, the wind in my face, the cold, and the smell of the ice. I just skated for me. That's what we do. We skate for us. Or in your case, Noah, you block every puck. Don't think about anything but the game and why you love letting people throw pucks at your face at the speed of light. Why do you love that anyway?"
He shrugs, his messy blond hair falling into his face as he does. "My dad played goalie in high school. It's what he knew and what he taught me. I've tried other positions, but I always come back to this. I'm good at it."
"Family tradition, then." Collin nods and slaps him on the back. "Good enough."
We finish suiting up and then go to stand in line with the rest of the team waiting for them to announce us.
I say a silent prayer and then put on my game face.
Daisy
Why am I even here? The cold is just as bad as it was yesterday even with all my layers and a steaming cup of hot chocolate in my hands. My teeth chatter and I pull the soft Sherpa wool jacket tighter around me. Jenny loaned it to me when she found out I was going to the game and I was sick. I forgot her boyfriend is on the team. So I'm sitting here between her and Christa, while they chat and I do my best to stay warm.
"You good?" Christa asks after a few minutes.
"Yeah. Just cold."
"You get used to it." Jenny takes a sip of her own hot chocolate. "I got sick to the first time I came to a game. I didn't realize how cold it could be. Dylan warned me it was cold, but I wasn't expecting it to be this cold."
"Yeah. It slaps you in the face when you come in." I sip the hot drink in my hands. "Why do they willingly come here for hours every day?"
Jenny laughs. "They love the game."
"Hutch pulled me in here yesterday in jean leggings, a t-shirt, and a hoodie."
"Girl, that wasn't enough layers. No wonder you woke up sick as a dog." She shakes her head. "You have to have several layers and a good coat. Some of the girlfriends and puck bunnies brave the cold and wear skin tight short skirts and barely there shirts with no coat." She points behind us and I glance over.
Sure enough, there's a section full of women decked out in hooker gear and their faces are covered in so much makeup, I'm not sure what they actually look like. Don't get me wrong. Any guy looking for a night with a hot chick, that's where it's at. They are hot. Tight, slim bodies, but all their assets are on display. Why would a man pay for milk when he gets the cow for free as Nana used to say. I shake my head and turn back to my friends.
"I'm freezing just looking at them." A shiver rolls through me and I sneeze into my tissue. "I should have stayed home."
"Hutch doesn't invite girls to his games." Christa looked out over the ice.
"So?"
"So, he not only invited you to his game, he went out and got you medicine."
Christa nods like Jenny's words mean something. Deep down, part of me knows it does mean something, but I brush it aside. Not happening.
"He's being nice and superstitious at the same time."
Christa tells Jenny about mine and Hutch's adventure last night when I sneeze. I really shouldn't be here, but he seemed so hopeful. He's been so nice to me and I couldn't say no.
"So you're Daisy."
I glance up when I hear the woman sitting a little ways down say my name. She's older. In her early forties maybe? Her brown hair is up in a bun on her head and she's suited up in a warm jacket and jeans. Her eyes catch my attention, though. They're the same shade as Hutch's.
"I'm Kathleen, Jonathan's mother," she says and scoots down until she's next to Christa.
"Who?" we all ask.
She laughs softly. "Hutch. His name is Jonathan Wayne Hutchinson."
"Oh, nice to meet you," I say and scrunch up my nose to stop the sneeze. "How do you know my name?"
"Jonathan told me about you yesterday. He said he invited you to the game so I switched shifts at work to meet you cause Lord knows when that boy would bring you by. Though I did give him a two week deadline to bring you to the house for supper."
"Uh..." What do I say to that? "I barely know him."
She smiles wider. "I know, that's what got me curious. You look frozen, honey."
"I am. We don't have hockey in West Virginia so we're not out in the cold twenty-four seven."
"I'll get you the website where I buy jeans that are lined on the inside with Sherpa wool. I only buy a few pairs to get me through the hockey season."
"Oh, I, uh, I..."
She goes on like I didn't say a word. "They also have shirts along the same line." She unzips her jacket and shows me the plaid shirt that's lined in wool on the inside. "Keeps you from freezing half to death. I'm from Texas originally so it took me a long time to get used to how cold it gets here."
"It's colder than I thought it would be when I moved here."
"It's the lake," Jenny says, trying to hide her smile. "The wind blows in off the lake and it gets really cold. Wait until it and all the small ponds freeze over. Minnesota winters can be miserable, but I grew up here and wouldn't trade them for all the hot humid air in the south for anything."
"I hate the heat." I huddle deeper into the jacket. "I'd rather be cold than hot any day of the week."
"My kind of girl." Jenny bumps my shoulder with hers. "We just have to teach you to dress for the cold. West Virginia winters may be cold, but not near as cold as we get here. Do you plan on staying here after you graduate or going back to West Virginia?"
"No, I'm not going back. Now that my Nana's not here anymore, there's nothing for me to go back to. If I fall in love with Minnesota then I'll stay or find somewhere they get lots of snow in the winter and move there after graduation."
"Minnesota will give you lots of snow and ice."
"Can you drive on ice?" This from Hutch's mom.
"Sure can. My grandma taught me and my brother both to drive on ice."
Kathleen smiles and sips on her straw. She looks to have gotten a pop instead of hot chocolate. Or at least I think it's pop. I doubt its beer because I've seen people with beer bottles in their hands.
Music starts playing and a team skates out onto the ice. Their jerseys are orange and blue, but that's about all I notice. Are hockey shirts jerseys or are they called something else? We're sitting right behind where the team sits on the ice so I can see pretty well, but it's hard to distinguish anything when they move to the opposite end of the ice.
Then our school song comes on and the entire place erupts into chaos. It's so loud I think maybe my eardrums ruptured. Jenny hauls me up into a standing position and she's screaming along with the rest of them, shouting Dylan's name. Christa is the only one besides me who is behaving like they have some sense. Even Kathleen is shouting.
I guess hockey is as big of a deal in Minnesota as football was in West Virgina. Who would have guessed it?
Our team skates out on the ice and the only thing I really pay attention to is how tall the guys are. Most of them are well over six feet. There are only one or two who might be five ten or so. Are all hockey players tall? Maybe its a criteria to play the sport. I have no clue.
They skate a lap around the ice, smiling and waving to the fans before taking up positions on the benches in front of us. Everyone seems to love them. I wonder if the same can be said for the football games here? Do the fans go this wild over football too or is it really just a hockey school?
I'm startled out of my thoughts when there's a bang directly in front of us. Hutch is grinning along with Dylan as they tap their sticks against the clear shielding between us and the ice. He looks happy and I smile back at him. It's the honorable thing to do. I can hear Nana telling me to remember my manners.
Dylan blows a kiss to Jenny and then they skate back to the team who's starting to sit on the benches. Dylan and Hutch both remain standing.
"Hutch and Dylan are both on the first line," Jenny explains. "They get to play first. It'll be fast and hard to understand at first, but the more plays you watch, the more you'll understand it."
And she wasn't wrong about it being fast. They flew across the ice, the little black puck moving so fast, I couldn't keep up with it. I barely registered who was who. It was like a big blur. I only knew when Hutch scored because his mother screamed his name and jumped up and down. Christa and Jenny both yanked me up when either Hutch or Dylan did something special. I held on tight to the hot chocolate to keep it from spilling not because I wanted to drink it, but because it was warm.
"What do you think?" Christa asks during a lull.
"I can't make heads or tails of it."
She laughs. "That's okay. I felt the same way my first game. We'll rewatch the game tomorrow in slow motion and I'll explain it all."
Before I could tell her I wasn't interested, Jenny jumps in the conversation. "I'll ask Dylan and Hutch to come over. They're probably better at explaining than we are."
"Good idea," Christ agrees.
The last push on the ice begins and the entire stadium goes quiet. There's not a sound except for the skates slicing the ice as the teams try to take control. They're tied one to one. I'm guessing whoever wins this, wins the game. Or they stay tied maybe? Or do they go into overtime like they do in football?
"Hutch has the puck," his mother whispers, her voice anxious. I only hear her because its so quiet.
I honestly can't tell which one is him they're moving so fast. I lean forward to try and make him out.
"Right there." Jenny points her hand to to the middle of the ice and I can just barely make out his name on the back of his jersey as he skates away from us and toward the other team's net. He really is a good skater.
The puck flies away from him and to someone else as he continues to skate right toward the net and I just make out the puck moving straight across the ice to another player who deftly gets it before the other team can snatch it and then he shoots back toward Hutch who catches it and hits it so hard toward the goal, it does sound like a slap.
The buzzer sounds and people start screaming. I guess he made his goal as his team surrounds him and starts jumping around on the ice like lunatics. If one of them fell all those blades would destroy them. Shouldn't they not be jumping around like that on blades of mass destruction.
"He won the game," Jenny screams. "He won!"
"He made both goals and the game winning goal," Christa explains, whispering in my ear. "It's a big deal."
"I can see that. Hopefully no one falls and gets damaged by the blades of mass destruction."
His mother full on belly laughs when she hears me. "Oh honey, you and I are going to be good friends."
"Come on." Jenny tugs me up. "Let's go wait for them."
"Where?"
"Outside the locker room, duh."
"Uh...is it cold in there?"
"Yes." Kathleen shakes her head. "You're frozen sweetheart. Let's go wait for Jonathan in the team family room. It's warmer in there. Christa, Jenny, you're welcome to come with us or you can wait by the locker room."
"Family room," they both say at the same time.
Kathleen takes my hand and starts pulling me out of the emptying bleachers. At least it'll be warmer.