The room is bustling again as the entire team shouts ideas over each other. I was already doing videos and growing my following when I started at Lakeview. Demonstrating various techniques for skating, stick handling, training. It was fun. But once the girls saw me, they all wanted in. And now the Elles, as we call ourselves, have become very popular. They’re all in, and my viewers go feral when we make a video with the team.
“Hey! Everyone be quiet!”
The noise dims a fraction, but not enough to save me from a sore throat tomorrow.
“I’ll think about it. See if we can’t whip something together. In the meantime, we’ve still got practice. Happy New Year and welcome back. Good to see you all in one piece.” I level a stern look at Beth, and she responds with a serene smile. “This is our first practice of the semester, but I hope you all kept up with your workouts.” I was hitting the weights hard even on Christmas Day.
“After the thrashing Chicago gave us last time we played them, I’m itching to hand their asses to them next week, so hop to it. Hit the ice, team!”
We huddle together, stacking our hands, and my favorite cheer rings out as we throw them in the air. “Go, Elles!”
It may not be a game, but I’ve always found it helpful to get everyone pumped even before practice. The harder you train, the better you play. That’s one lesson I’ve taken from the rink to my life.
Coach Danner is ready for us with a slight frown as she holds her arm up to make a show of glancing at her watch. “Wilder, why are you getting your team on the ice late?”
“Sorry, Coach.”
“Everyone out there for twenty laps. If you can beat your best collective time, I’ll go easy on you. Don’t mind Maya over there. She’s a volunteer with the PR team. She’ll be filming some of ourpractices and behind-the-scenes stuff for the team’s social media accounts.”
A tiny girl, engulfed by a riot of brown curls on her head, waves at us with a huge grin from the sidelines.
A united chorus of groans and grumbles overshadows her introduction, but we all know better than to dally. She starts the timer before her words have disappeared in the clatter of skates hitting the ground as we rush out the door and down the hall to the rink.
“Give her!” I yell as I’m hopping onto the fresh ice ahead of the pack. The beautiful sound of blades swishing follows me as I’m shooting off. I push myself to maintain my lead with Beth close on my heels.
The orange cones are a blur as I zigzag through them, breath coming in rapid pants. But I push through the exhaustion, sliding toward the net from the right side.
My defense team takes turns sending me the puck, and I calculate the angles to land each shot in the back of the net.
I hop up, thrusting my stick in the air, and the rest of the ladies cheer. It was a fantastic practice, but I’m about ready to melt into a puddle of exhaustion on the ice. Danner worked us extra hard to make up for any missed time over the holiday break.
Strands of loose, sweaty hair slap me in the face as I rip my helmet off. This hot mess is why I usually film my videos at the start of practice.
I hesitate. We may not be creating a makeup tutorial, but there is still an expectation for us to look perfect on camera. Good old double standards. Jenson, the goalie on the guys’ team, has a small following on social media and posts a lot of videos. He’s only got a few thousand followers, nowhere near my counts, but I’ve watched some of his stuff and I’m not sure the guy ever brushes his hair. But I bet no one is dropping into his DMs to troll him for not looking his best.
“Maybe we should leave it for next practice.” I rub at the knot of anxiety that’s settled into my chest. It’s always there, but right now I know I have a tuition check to send in and a deadline to pay the deposit for Celeste’s dance program.
“No way!” Maisie slides to a stop in front of me, blades sending a cold shower of ice at my overheated face. “Helmets on?”
She spins in a slow circle, arms held out to the rest of the team.
“But helmet on vids never do as well, and I saw your numbers over the holidays. You totally need this. We can do a quick brush and wipe. Show off our gorgeous faces.”
Brit stumbles as she rushes off the ice, catching herself before she can go flying into the bench.
I shrug. Clearly, they’re all in on this. Their support fills my chest with a warm, fuzzy feeling that eases the anxiety. With these amazing ladies beside me, I know I can handle anything.
“Okay, so I was thinking we do something simple. We need those spare minutes to pretty ourselves up. Not that we’re not already stunning, but you know the Internet. Camera on top of the net, and everyone slides in with a new year’s resolution?”
“Serious or silly?” Maisie asks.
“Umm.” I purse my lips. “Either? Whatever you’re feeling. Doesn’t need to be worthy of Shakespeare. I know not everyone even makes resolutions, so just vibe. Let your personalities shine.”
I have to untangle myself from the giggling huddle to set everything up for the video.
A flash of movement pulls my gaze to the empty bleachers as I’m skating over to grab my twisty tripod off the bench. There’s no sign of anyone up there when I give a scan of the area, though, so I shrug it off and head back to my girls.
They’re taking turns brushing each other’s hair and talking about what they’re going to say.
