“Eloise Harper, as I live and breathe,” A loud voice comes from the side and my blood freezes. “What are you doing in pink?”
“Surprise trade?” I say, trying to sound confident, but it seems more like a question. Winnie, with her choppy pink hair and golden skin, smiles up at me.
“You going to make my life miserable?”
“Old habits die hard, I guess,” I shrug, “But I guess I can try defending you.” She guffaws loudly, strapping up her pads. The locker room starts to get noisy again, ignoring the way that we all know I shouldn’t be here. Who knows? I may not come back after this trainingcamp and may instead get picked up by another team.
No, it’s this team or bust.
There’s nothing to fall back on. Calgary doesn’t want me back with Rose in their grips. Winnie slaps the bench next to her, an empty locker behind it, and looks at me expectantly. “You’re going to be great,” she mutters when I sit down. “I liked Rosie a lot, Taylor liked her even more, and they clicked, but I think that she was a little immature in her game. You and Taylor though,” she kisses the air, “Perfection.”
I feel my cheeks getting warm. “We don’t even know if I’ll be here in a week. I could very well be gone after two days.”
“Bull,” she snaps, “You got more going for you than some of these draftees.” She looks around conspiratorially. “There’s no way Coach T will pick one of them over you.”
I mull over her words, starting to get dressed for the ice, and feel her nudge me. “I swear, you’re going to be good,” she whispers.
“Thanks.” My thoughts drift when Taylor Matthews is at the entrance of the change-room. She looks stunning, lips plump and slightly open and her green eyes narrowed as she looks at me changing into my uniform. I catch her eye and watch her look away quickly, moving to the opposite side of the room to throw her stuff into a locker.
I try not to let that feed into my anxiety, and yet, it does. Winnie catches the corner of my eye, looking between the two of us with a smile, and I try not tomove. If I don’t move, I think she’ll ignore me. “See you on the ice,” she says, getting up and waddling out under the weight of all of her pads.
I can’t imagine wanting to have pucks flung at me like she does. The whole idea makes me nauseous, but she looks ferocious in her pads and skates. Like the brick wall I know her to be.
I think I may be glad to be on her team instead of against her this season. It was always a pain to try to score on her. I hear someone sighing heavily on the other side of the room and I try not to look up, because I know when Taylor Matthews is getting huffy. I’ve heard it whenever we’ve butted against each other in our games. Sometimes I hear it in my dreams, but that– no, stop, bad Eloise, don’t think about that.
She’s a potential teammate.
And she hates my guts.
I shouldn’t feel weak in the knees for her.
I shake my head, throwing on my skates and tying them quickly before going down the tunnel to the rink. The fluorescent lights make the ice reflect back on me, burning my retinas for a second before they adjust. It glistens back at me, calling to me, and I have to suppress the shudder of excitement that runs up my spine.
The first glide of my skate against the ice makes merealize that this could be home. It’s comforting to know that as I start my warm up; laps around the ice before stretching. Slowly, the rest of the team and hopefuls start to make their way onto the ice. I catch Brynn walking slowly, chatting with Taylor, and I duck my head.
People start coming beside me, dropping and working on their hip stretches. I look over at Coach Tommy, who seems to be watching me with a glint in his eye, before ducking my head yet again. I shake my shoulders as I get up, trying to loosen up and feel the ice beneath my skates before standing in front of him and waiting for the rest to finish with their warm-ups.
“You’re prepared,” he says, “Off-season conditioning?”
I nod. “I wanted to be ready, upped the workouts last week knowing I was going to be here.” He grunts again, heading back to his coaching staff, and I try to shake off the last of my nerves while waiting for practice to start.
The rest of the team is still chatting, taking their time with warm-ups, and I feel a pang in my chest at the realization that I have to interact with new people.
I know some of them from school – playing with or against them – but I’m older, and this is a pretty young team all things considered. The youngest players I didn’t even play with in my college career.
“Alright, ladies,” Coach snaps, clapping to get our attention. We all stop and look at him. I catch sight of some of the draftees. They look like they’re about to shittheir pants. Brynn catches my eye over their heads and gives a small smile. “We’re going to have long days and hard nights. Expectations are normal - do your best. If you’re not up to scratch, you’re going to be cut,” he looks at his clipboard.
I bite my cheek to keep from grimacing at the thought. “We’re going to be running a few drills and ending the day off with a scrimmage. We’re testing lines, seeing who works well, blah blah, you know the deal.” He makes a face and turns to his team for a minute. “Right, we’re running stop-start skating drills first, head to the goal line.”
We’re there in an instant, the whistle blows and we’re off.
I’m gliding across the ice as fast as possible, rushing forward and stopping on a dime before going back and doing it again. It’s a quick and brutal drill that has a few people already dropping away when we reach the other side of the rink. I’m one of the first people there, with Brynn and Taylor close behind. Winnie is on the sidelines with the other two goalies and their coach working away at their reflexes.
Someone nudges me, and I smile at them. I think it’s Aurora, but we don’t have time to talk before Coach Lawson has us running another, and another.
We’re almost an hour into practice before he has us slowing down. There are several buckets on the sidesof the ice that players have thrown up into, and I’m fortunate that I’ve been able to keep everything down.
Not for his lack of trying, I assure you.
