Vivian’s at the front, sleeves pushed up, walking them through today’s session with a mix of patience and enough edge to keep them from completely derailing.
“Okay, no—if you glue that before you attach the charm, it’s not going to sit right,” she says, reaching in to fix it before it becomes a problem.
“I was experimenting,” one of the girls argues.
“You were guessing,” Vivian teases, but she’s smiling.
There’s a ripple of laughter, and I find myself smiling, too.
The room’s different from the first week. Less noise for the sake of noise. They’re actually working together now. They pass things, compare what they’ve done, call each other over or help each other proactively, instead of waiting to be told what’s next.
She did that. Vivian made that happen.
I lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching her movethrough it. She doesn’t hover, nor does she take over. She steps in when she needs to, lets them figure the rest out. It works.
She turns slightly, catching sight of me and she winks. Her mouth curves enough so that I know that the hint of a smile she’s sharing is for me and only me.
“Okay,” Vivian says, clapping once to pull them back in. “So put your charms away now, because it’s time to talk about the MVP trophy. We’re designing something that represents the team. Not just hockey. The team.”
A few of the girls immediately start talking over each other again.
“Crown,” someone says.
“It’s not a pageant,” another calls out.
“Stars,” a third offers, already sketching.
Vivian nods, letting it all come out before stepping in. “All right, slow down. One at a time.”
A hand shoots up. “What about diamonds?”
Vivian’s brows lift. “Okay. Talk me through that.”
“They’re strong,” the girl says. “And they last. Like…forever.”
Vivian nods, already reaching for a marker. “Diamonds are durable and strong, and are something that holds up over time.” She sketches as she talks, simple lines, nothing too fixed. “That could work.”
The room leans in a little as another voice cuts in. “What about a puck?”
“Instead of the ice skate?” Vivian pauses, marker hovering. “Makes sense. Why?”
A shrug. “Because…it’s hockey?”
A few of the girls laugh, not mean, just honest.
I hear myself before I plan it. “Because it’s the thing that actually moves the game.”
The words land in the space from the back of the room, and for a second, I almost don’t realize I said them out loud. Heads turn my way as Vivian looks at me.
I push off the wall. “You can have all the other stuff—the lights, the crowd, the jerseys—but nothing happens without the puck.”
One of the girls nods slowly. “Yeah. That.”
Another leans forward. “Like…it’s small, but it matters.”
Vivian’s still looking at me. A second too long, if I’m honest. There’s something in her expression I can’t quite pin down before she turns back to the group, picking it up like it was always part of the plan.
“Okay,” she says, tapping the board. “So we’ve got strength with the diamond, and movement with the puck.” She starts sketching again, faster now. “What if we combine those ideas? Something solid, but central. Something everything else builds around.”
