She stops typing again, but her eyes don’t leave the screen.
“Like a non-profit?”
“Yeah, exactly like that. I know we’re supposed to be creating a business, and we will be, but we’ll also be creating a place where kids can come and feel safe,” I say. “We could get donations from big corporations, possibly professional teams, and we can have trained hockey players teach other kids.”
“That’s not so bad,” she whispers. “Why did you think of that?”
“I told you,” I begin, “not everyone is lucky enough to be able to chase their dreams.”
She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me like she’s waiting for me to continue.
“Jaxon Holmes,” I pause. “He’s one of my best friends and almost couldn’t play.”
“Because of money?”
“Yeah. His mom had him when she was sixteen, and his dad bailed. She worked these crazy hours just so she could put food on the table and clothes on his back.” I shrug. “I guess I always wonder what would’ve happened if he didn’t get to play.”
“How did she afford it?”
“A generous donation,” I respond. Which isn’t a lie. Jaxon was the last of us to play because his mom couldn’t afford it. I hated always seeing him on the sidelines, so I made a deal with my parents. All of my allowances would go to his mom anonymously.
It was the best and easiest decision I ever made.
“And now he’s on his way to the NHL,” she mumbles.
“That’s the dream.”
The room falls silent, and now it’s just us. Staring at each other. I still don’t understand her. Not fully. She hides in her brother’s shadow like it’s where she belongs, but I don’t believe that.
When her eyes fall away from mine, I realize I’ve been staring at her too long, and she would never believe me if I told her why I was staring. She’s like this mystery to me that I want to uncover.
“I should go.” She slams her laptop shut and jumps off the stool. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“We’re done?”
“We did some great work. I have no doubt I’ll be able to fill out the first sheet; it’s just basic questions anyway.”
“You don’t have to go. We can work through some more stuff.”
She shakes her head, already speeding to the front door like she’s on a mission. Why do I feel like it will always be like this with her? One step forward… three steps back.
“Well, at least let me drive you home.”
“I have a car.” She laughs. “That’s how I got here.”
Right… but for all I knew, she walked here. Brinley’s done it; she could’ve too.
“So, I’ll see you Monday,” I say.
“Monday.” She forces a smile and pushes her way out the door, leaving it open behind her.
I watch her drive off before grabbing my keys off the entry table and getting in my car to catch the end of the football game.
September
If my dad saw me on the ice today, he would never let me live it down. I was off today.
The last time I was off during practice, I was eleven, and my dog had just died. Today? I have no excuse. I just wasn’t there, not like I should’ve been.
