Breakaway (22 page)

Bud’s paired me with Dayna again, which works for me. She’s always asking what she needs to do to be better.

“You and I are going to work our asses off,” I tell her as we head out for our first shift. “If we aren’t bagged by the end of this game, we’ve let our teammates down.”

She nods.

The first period is a huge improvement on our performance of the last two weekends. Neither team scores, but we tie Prairie Fire on shots, seven a piece. We spend most of the period battling in the neutral zone, but we do get one great scoring opportunity with seconds left in the period.

Kathy gets the puck in deep. She’s on the boards behind the net, getting manhandled by Number 6. One of the Rookies is parked in the high slot, fighting to stay open. Kathy flips the puck out to her on her backhand, and the Rookie chops it down in midair and throws it at the wide open net. It bangs the crossbar and bounces away just as the buzzer sounds to end the period.

Number 6 deliberately gives the Rookie the shoulder as she skates past, sending her flying. Kathy lunges at the Melville player, but the linesman grabs her and dances her out of reach.

“Just
try
to pull that shit again!” Kathy screams at Number 6. She calls her a bunch of names too.

Despite my efforts to lobby the ref, Kathy gets an unsportsmanlike, so we’re doomed to spend the first two minutes of the next period short-handed.

“Like we needed that,” Carla murmurs as we’re heading for the dressing room.

“Let it go,” I say. “Nothing we can do about it now.”

Between periods Bud gives us his analysis of Prairie Fire’s forecheck, then hands the floor to Sue, who reviews our PK. For the first time in a long time, it feels like a real hockey game.

When we come back out, Liam and his motley crew have moved their act to the seats above the Prairie Fire bench. The banging is so loud it hurts my ears, and the Melville fans look thoroughly annoyed.

Before Kathy heads across the ice to the penalty box, she chirps at the Prairie Fire bench.

“What did she say?” Dayna asks me.

“I think it was, ‘Don’t touch the Rooks.’”

Our PK is perfect. Melville doesn’t get a single shot on net, and we gain momentum every time we ice the puck. I ring one around the glass with seconds left, and Kathy picks it up on the fly as she barrels out of the penalty box. She blows past a Prairie Fire defenceman and bears down on their goalie, who comes out of her crease to cut off the angle. Kathy dekes left, then toe drags around her and pokes the puck through the daylight between the goalie’s left skate and the post. The puck barely squirts over the line, but the red light glows. Carried by the momentum of her rush, Kathy slams shoulder first into the corner, then bounces back to her feet, miraculously unhurt, only to be tackled by Randi and Carla.

We are deafened by Liam’s air horn, which announces the goal long before Mr. Parker does.

Kathy’s goal turns out to be the only one of the game – for either team. As we shake hands with our scowling opponents, it’s hard to keep the grin off my face.

When I reach the Melville coach, he squeezes my fingers firmly and says, “Great game, Captain. Bus legs got us today. We’ll be ready for you Saturday.”

The boys in orange are hoarse from screaming as we step off the ice. They lean over the glass and smack our heads as we parade by.

“Way to go, Oilers!” Liam shouts.

It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s wearing a sombrero, a black handlebar moustache, and orange paint for a shirt.

That’s the last thing you want to do...take him seriously, my little voice says.

I try to walk past without making eye contact, but he calls my name and points to a guy standing next to him.

“Jessie, this is my brother Russell!” he calls.

Russell’s not quite as tall as Liam. Instead of being painted orange, he’s wearing an Edmonton Oilers jersey and World War I flying ace headgear and goggles.

“Nice to meet you!” I call back.

“Go Estevan!” Russell jangles a cowbell over his head.

“I have to go!” I wave and walk away.

Mr. Johnstone manages to slide into the dressing room in the wake of our coaches. He’s grinning from ear to ear. He seeks out Kathy immediately. “That goal was a beauty!” Then he singles out each of us for praise until Mrs. Jordan ushers him back through the door.

The coaches give us about thirty seconds to bask in the glory of our greatness before they start delivering Saturday’s game plan. When they’re done, I take a cue from Mr. Johnstone and make a point of telling each Rookie what she did right.

“We can’t take Saturday’s game lightly,” I say to Dayna. “They’ll be ready for us.”

“We’ll be ready for them too,” Dayna says.

–

L
iam and Russell and my family are waiting for me in the lobby.

“You’ve got quite the cheering section.” Dad nods his head in Liam’s direction. “You know these boys?”

“Sort of.” I smile and wave at Liam and Russell, hoping that will appease them.

Mom gives me a significant look, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Great game,” Dad says. “Easily your best sixty minutes this year.”

“Thanks.” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Liam’s making his way over.

Oh please.

At least he’s wearing a jacket now.

“Jessie, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks.

I have no choice but to turn and face him. “What’s up?”

“I’m having a party out at my place on Saturday. I was hoping you’d come. Most of the other girls said they would.”

I feel the jaws of a trap pinching me. “I’m not sure what time we’ll get back from Melville. If it’s not too late, then maybe we could.”

“Great,” he says. “Oh, and Russell has something he’d like to ask you.”

“Will you sign my jersey?” Russell asks, holding out a Sharpie. His jersey is covered with autographs.

“I’d be honoured.” On his right shoulder, I carefully write my initials above a Number 13.

“Liam likes you,” Russell says.

If I wasn’t blushing before, I am now.

“Jessie knows that, Captain Obvious.” Liam laughs. “See you Saturday night, Hockey Girl. And good luck in Melville.”

“Nice fellas?” Dad asks, watching them leave.

“Too nice,” I reply.

–
Chapter Thirty-one
–

W
e end up sweeping
Melville, winning the second game 3–2 in overtime. Miranda’s in net for this one, and she plays over her head.

“You are an inspiration,” Bud tells her.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Carla says, “but my favourite Ebberts’ moment was when she deflected a shot and hit that guy right in the nuggets.”

She times the remark perfectly with Randi taking a sip out of her water bottle. Randi’s spray reaches halfway across the dressing room, and Kathy has to pound her between the shoulder blades to help her cough up the liquid that went down the wrong way.

We’re all cracking up. I nearly pee my pants, recalling the expression on “that guy’s” face, as he sat there with a lap full of chicken nuggets.

We’re back in Estevan by nine o’clock. After a quick shower, I pick up Amber, Kathy and Dayna and head a few kilometres west of town for the victory party at Liam’s place. Apparently he’s got a heated arena, where he’s hosted some epic football parties in the past.

“It’s an awesome locale, even if Liam’s dad is the party Nazi.” Kathy says. “And you have to give Liam’s mom your car keys when you get there.”

“You’re kidding me,” I say. “I don’t drink. I’m not giving up my keys.”

You might need to make a quick getaway, my little voice says.

“Take the next left,” Kathy says.

A familiar half-ton is parked at the lane entrance, with two Labs milling in the truck box. A big man climbs out and wanders into the middle of the road, blocking our path. I stop, put Sunny in park, and roll down the window. The man shines a flashlight in my face.

“Name?” he barks.

“Jessie McIntyre,” I reply, squinting. “And this is Kathy Parker, Amber Kowalski and Dayna Something.”

The flashlight swings around, inspecting each of the occupants. I get a closer look at the man who must be Liam’s dad. He’s got craggy, pockmarked features and Liam’s bushy brows, which make him resemble a bird of prey.

“Head over to the house,” he says at last. “Knock on the door and give your keys to Connie.”

“Actually, I won’t need to do that,” I tell him. “You see I don’t...”

“Just go with it,” Kathy says. “Thanks, Mr. MacArthur!”

He steps back from Sunny and gestures impatiently at the vehicle behind us.

“What does Liam’s dad do for a living?” I ask Kathy.

“Works rigs,” Kathy says.

“Ohhhh.” Everyone says at once.

“I bet nobody messes with him,” Amber says.

The two labs bound out of the truck box and escort us to the house, barking excitedly, tails wagging, and tongues lolling.

“I don’t like big dogs,” Dayna says.

The smaller lab greets me when I open my door. She’s practically wriggling out of her skin.

“Some guard dog!” I laugh.

Liam’s mom, who has long red hair and Liam’s quirky gap-toothed smile, is friendly too. She shakes hands with each of us as we introduce ourselves. Her grip is firmer than I would have expected from a woman, and her hand feels calloused and rough. She tags my car keys and hangs them on a pegboard behind the door.

“You girls come here if you need to pee,” Mrs. MacArthur says. “The boys can use the great outdoors. The world is their bathroom.”

“I know, and it sucks,” Amber says.

“Have a good time,” she says. “But be careful around those football players. Don’t get fooled by any sweet talk.”

The dogs are gone when we come out of the house. The ground between it and the arena is a wasteland of frozen mud and ice patches and horse turds. The cold night air is pungent with barn smell.

“I hope we get to see Liam’s horses,” Dayna says. “I really like horses.”

“You don’t like big dogs, but you like horses,” Kathy says. “Does that make sense?”

There’re already a couple dozen people at the party. Most of them are my teammates and football players. The quonset is lit with floodlights and a few strands of Christmas bulbs. It has a soft dirt floor, but there’s plywood laid out for dancing and an assortment of picnic tables and benches for seating. Some big heaters are blowing warm air not far from a bar made of planks and barrels, where Amy and a few football players are gathered. Liam’s serving them in his shirt sleeves.

“Is this a rave?” Amber asks.

“Hardly,” Kathy says.

We join the rest of our team, congregated close to the heaters, and exchange enthusiastic hugs and high fives.

“We’re on a roll now!” Miranda announces, smacking my outstretched palm.

“Want a coke, Jessie?” Dayna asks.

“Sure.” I hang back while Liam bartends for my carpool.

When they return, they’re hanging on Amber, laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I ask while Dayna hands me a can of Coke.

“Amber’s got a new nickname,” Kathy wheezes. “Liam called her Betty Boop.”

“I don’t know why.” Amber frowns.

“He also wants to know if you’d like to see his horses. He said he’d take us over to the barn,” Dayna says.

“All of us?” I ask.

Kathy sips her drink. “I don’t think he cares who comes along – so long as
you
do.”

I’m glad it’s too dark for her to see my face.

Dayna, Kathy, Amber and I follow Liam to the barn. It’s a long, rambling building east of the quonset. Liam unbars a large sliding door and heaves it open, stepping aside to let us walk past. The barn is warmer than the quonset and better lit. There’re four large stalls on either side and several narrow ones. The usual horsey sounds greet us: hooves, snorts and large molars grinding hay.

A pretty sorrel head is looking at us from the first stall.

“This is Rusty,” Liam says, reaching up to scratch the horse’s ears. “She’s my ticket. Six-year-old quarter horse. Her registered name is Lady Freckles Lena.”

“This is your favourite girl,” I say.

Liam stares at me so intently I drop my gaze.

We all take turns rubbing the white stripe on Rusty’s nose, patting her red coat, and generally sucking up. Liam disappears into the tack room and returns with an apple and a small knife. He cuts off a section for each of us, so we can feed her a treat.

“She’s beautiful,” Dayna says as Rusty takes the chunk of apple from her outstretched palm. “Why is she your ticket?”

“I’m training her to compete at Agribition,” Liam says.

He briefly outlines the contest, which has three separate events: reining, cutting and fence work. The competition is followed by an auction. Proceeds from Rusty’s sale will help pay for Liam’s university education.