I had no idea what I was signing up for. It was 5 something am as I sat in the lobby of the inn, blowing over some particularly vile brew of coffee as I waited for the will power to venture outside in the damp, dark cold of the night or the guys to pick me up. Whichever came first. The only thing keeping me warm was the memory of my dad going livid once he saw what I'd done with my hair, and me casually destroying any of his arguments with the fact that this was going to help us both blend in. I took advantage of the morning loneliness to snap a series of selfies and send a couple to Miguel. He didn't reply right away as I expected, but I snickered as I imagined his bulging green eyes.
They were going to lose their shit when they saw me playing hockey with boys.
I finished up the cup of mud and tears I'd been drinking and tossed it in the bin. I opened the door and flinched at the biting gust of wind that greeted me. I questioned the sanity of anybody who moved here with the intention of staying. Weather up here was hostile. I started heading over to the ice rink, thinking back of the cold virgin margaritas on a yacht from summer. A year or less of this, I reminded myself.
"Hey."
I screamed and jumped half a mile, only to find Pace gaping at me.
"Has no one told you not to sneak up on people in the dark?" I half screamed, half snarled at him. My heart was beating in my throat with such vengeance I almost barfed the horrible coffee.
The only thing I could see clearly was his wide eyes in the dark. "Sorry. I didn't know you were so jumpy."
I clamped my mouth shut and turned back toward the ice rink. I figured then that there were advantages to being raised in a small town like this. No one had reason to distrust others.
"I've noticed you're like, jumpy."
I harrumphed. "Yeah, well. I originally come from one of the most dangerous cities on Earth."
We fell in stride, only the sound of our steps echoing in the still town. I struggled with this. Always. It was one of the reasons why I had such a hard time making friends. It was hard to trust people when you've already come face to face with the worst of them.
"Where, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Caracas," I told him, because there was no harm in sharing that much. But he noted the finality in my tone and didn't pursue the topic. For that I was thankful.
"Did you read what I sent you yesterday?" he asked instead, and we launched on a conversation about the rules of the game. There were so many things that were unclear to me, like why icing was an issue but why it was okay to catch a flying puck in your hand and bring it down to the ice to keep it in play. I could tell this was the most important topic in his life to him, because he launched on a monologue about the history of the rules until we made it to the rink. He reminded me of my cousins back home, who were all in on baseball. I was passionate about boxing, but not to the point that I could be a scholar about it, so at that moment I was feeling considerable admiration for Pace and his group of hockey-obsessed friends.
The front door to the ice rink was unlocked and I shook my head at the small town antics, but we strutted right in and headed for the arena.
"I asked Dean to bring you some of his old stuff," Pace said. "I'd have brought mine but my little brother couldn't bear to part with a single pad for a couple of hours," as he said this he rolled his eyes, but I could tell it didn't bother him one bit.
A sharp swooshing sound caught my attention and I turned to see Dean braking across from us in the middle of the ice. He was decked in full Bear uniform, and the only reason I recognized him was because I didn't expect anybody else in there at that time. He skated over and swung his legs over the sideboard easily.
"I brought the stuff," he said. Then he took off his helmet and I realized that he was drenched in sweat. Like he'd been here for hours. "It might be a bit too big for his frame, though."
I folded my arms and gave him my best resting bitch face. "What is that supposed to mean?"
His lips curled and he put his hand on his forehead before extending it toward me, where it hovered over a good expanse of empty air over my head. "Let's just say, the last time I was your height I was maybe... 10 years old?"
I gave Pace a pointed stare. "Do we really need him?"
His friend just grinned and shrugged. "Well, he is the best."
"Just so we're clear," I said. "Just because you're helping me learn doesn't mean I'll kiss your ass, got it?"
They looked at each other with shared amusement, but Dean replied with, "That's okay, that's not where I like to be kissed anyway."
I gasped, my mind racing with a number of possible meanings to that, but he grabbed a bag that had been on the bleachers and tossed it at me with no warning. I caught it in my arms and nearly crumbled under the weight. What all was in there, boulders?
"C'mon, I'll help you get dressed," he said.
Pace pointed to the side. "Locker room's that way."
I stood frozen, looking at them like a deer in the headlights. I assumed there were two locker rooms, one for men and one for women. And even though I knew I had to go to the men's, my entire being rebelled. I couldn't risk them seeing, well, something that boys didn't usually have. They noticed the reluctance in my face, and for a wild second I thought they knew exactly what was going through my mind, although there was no way. Their ensuing conversation confirmed that I was losing my marbles by myself.
Dean tossed his gloves on top of a pile of his things and ran a hand through his sweaty curls as Pace told him about the intended training ahead. Skating had to come before puck handling. The other boy retorted that it'd be best if I learned in as real an environment as they could manage. So instead of just practicing isolated skating drills, they'd simulate a game environment and for that I needed to wear all the equipment.
"Plus, that way he'll learn how to balance while wearing it," Dean finished. Then he turned to me, eyebrows raised. "Well, are you coming or are you planning on wasting more time standing there?"
I punched him on the shoulder, softly because he was wearing pads and I didn't have gloves on. It sent the desired message not to give me crap anymore, and I followed both of them. I paused for a second looking at the sign of the women's locker, but followed into the men's. Somehow I expected it to be nasty and smelly, but it was just the same I'd expect from the women's, with the few obvious additions lined up on a wall far from the entrance.
The boys got to work quickly. Pace started removing his clothes as Dean took over emptying the contents of the duffel bag he'd given me. He pulled out rolls upon rolls of tape and I asked what they were for.
"You'll see," was all he said on the matter. He motioned at my coat. "Take that off."
I looked over at Pace as he was taking everything but his skivvies off and panic set in.
"Uh, maybe you should tell me what I should put on and how."
"That's what I'm trying to do." His eyebrows went up. "Don't tell me you're shy."
My brain scrambled for a retort and what came out was a lie. "I just have some really ugly scars."
They looked at each other and chuckled. Pace said, "Dude, we wear knives on our feet for sport. So do we." Then he turned around and presented his bare back, where he had a particular gash. "Check this one out. Got it four years ago at camp."
"Must've hurt," I muttered.
"The clock's ticking and we don't have all day," Dean said. "Do you want to do this or not?"
I bit my lower lip and looked down at the assorted crap he'd spread out for me. Pads, pants, gloves, a jersey, a few pairs of socks and all the tape, crowned by a helmet with a visor and a stick. I took a deep breath and removed my coat. I told him I had to keep a couple of the layers I was wearing because I was too cold.
He grunted. "You're going to get hot pretty soon, you know."
I had no doubts, but he respected that. Both of the boys struggled with putting all the pads in place and securing them and the skates with tape. When they were done I laughed hysterically, because I felt like a stiff mummy.
"How do you even move with all this?" I asked, trying to wipe the tears from my eyes but my arms were so stiff that I didn't succeed, and it sent me into another fit of the giggles. I had a boy on each side carrying me over to the ice rink, and the closer we got the hilarity of the whole thing faded away bit by bit, until we were at the edge of the ice and I realized this was beyond foolish.
"Ready?" Dean asked.
He gave me no time to prepare psychologically before he shoved me forward and I hit the ice. With my face.
"Uh, maybe he wasn't ready," I heard Pace say.
"This is hopeless," Dean added. "Why are we doing this?"
I wiggled around as best as I could but couldn't find away to loosen myself enough to turn around.
"Because," Pace said. "Now that Aaron's gone you're going to be everybody's favorite target. So it's in your best interest to not be a dick with him and teach him how to defend you."
I heard rustling and next thing I knew, a pair of hands grabbed me by the jersey and lifted me all the way up. I was face to face again with the jerk I was supposed to defend. I glared at his perfect fucking face.
"I didn't know this whole thing was to help you," I said. "If I'd known that I wouldn't have said yes."
He snorted as he let me go, and I fumbled with my bearings but managed to hold myself up without help.
"You can still quit and spare me the hassle," he said.
"Stop, you two," Pace cut in, smacking the back of Dean's head and mine at the same time.
"What the hell, why me too?" I asked as I rubbed at the sore spot and blinked the stars away.
"Because you're goading him," he said before turning to his friend. "And you. It won't hurt you to be nice to somebody."
"I think it will," I murmured, but shut up as both of them glared at me. I sighed. "Fine. I'm at your mercy. Teach me how to become the bodyguard of this asshole."
I attempted to fold my arms to look tough, but I felt the resistance of all the paraphernalia and gave up halfway. Pace's face brightened and he clapped once.
"Okay, here's what I'm thinking," he started, taking a moment to toss helmets and sticks to us. I put on my helmet with difficulty as he continued. "What Charlie needs in order to impress Coach Martel is simple. The basics and a solid punch to somebody's face. We need to teach him how to look like a convincing enough player and to throw fists without falling on his ass."
I jerked a gloved hand at Dean. "Can I use him as target?"
To my surprise the blond boy grinned wide. "Only if you can catch me."
And with that he took off at inhuman speed and circled around the ice in a fluid motion.
"What are you waiting for? Catch me if you can," he said as he zoomed by.
I looked at Pace for confirmation and he nodded. "First lesson. Try to catch him-" He paused long enough to bare his teeth in a predatory smile. "Before I catch you."
Oh shit, I was in trouble.