I felt a million times better after a run and a swim. Trudy had given me a detailed schedule for all three weeks. Tonight, supper was at 5:30 and I was starved, so I went straight to the dining hall. Since none of the kids were here yet, the meal was pretty casual: hot dogs and various carb-laden salads. Not exactly the fuel of champions, but all the guys were gobbling the food down pretty rapidly. I tried to eat clean, but there weren’t a lot of choices here. I grabbed a hot dog then found a bowl of fruit on a side table and helped myself.
One table was already full, so I sat down at a table with only one guy. He was tall and gangly and busy ploughing through a tray with three hot dogs, a mountain of macaroni salad, and three glasses of milk.
“Hi, I’m Kelly.”
He looked up at me then swallowed his food awkwardly. His eyes bulged, and he started choking.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded but kept on coughing and started turning red. I got up to whack him on the back, but he waved me off. I heard noise behind me and turned to see the other table laughing their heads off at us. That seemed mean. I sat back down and waited until the kid had recovered.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Eric.”
“Have you worked at this camp before?”
“No.”
This was like pulling teeth. I introduced the topic of hockey and got some two-word answers. Eric played junior in the QMJHL, so he must have been good.
“Hey, is this seat taken?” It was Steve Owen, the guy from the dock. He had already given me a creepy vibe when he tried to cop a feel while handing me a towel. He probably figured he was God’s gift to women with his tan and flashy looks. Also, he had streaked blond hair I suspected was done in a salon. Ridiculous.
“Uh, no. Have a seat,” I offered.
“So, my little mermaid, I’d like to know more about you,” Steve said. Unlike Eric, he had no trouble making small talk.
“What’s to know? I’m from Vancouver, and I play hockey. Obviously.” I figured everyone here was a good hockey player. I turned back to Eric. “So, what were you saying about the Q?”
Eric muttered something unintelligible, clearly put off by the suave Steve. A big guy with dark hair came over to the table and introduced himself.
“Hi, Kelly, I’m Riley Williams.” Everyone here seemed to know who I was already.
“Kelly, if you want to hear about the Q, you should talk to a guy who’s a star and not a scrub,” Steve said, clearly meaning himself. Riley nodded. He seemed to be Steve’s sidekick.
I ignored that insulting suggestion and tried to find my hot dog fascinating.
Steve was relentless. “So, what position do you play?” He emphasized the word “position” like a dirty joke.
Since I spent a lot of time at hockey rinks, I ended up meeting guys like Steve, who put an innuendo on every remark they made and spent more time staring at my chest than my face. My way of dealing with them was to play it innocent. You didn’t know what they were talking about, you didn’t get why they were laughing, and you kept as far away from them as possible.
“Left wing,” I replied. How could anyone put an innuendo on that?
“So, you must be—fast—with soft hands.” Wow, this guy was good. Zero to stomach churning in 2.5 seconds.
“No, I am slow with hands of cement,” I lied. Well, I wasn’t slow anyway.
“Ha ha. Funny, too, I like that in a girl.” Steve leaned towards me, and I leaned back. “Have you got a boyfriend?”
Oh, for crying out loud. Time to stop this train in its tracks. “Yes, a huge one. 6’ 5.” 275 pounds. His name is Thor, and he’s a D-man with big muscles and a bad temper. Did I mention homicidally jealous?”
“Why do I not believe you?”
“Your mistake then. You can say goodbye to those shiny white teeth if you make the wrong move.”
“Which is?”
“Any move in my direction.”
I wanted to get away, but I couldn’t be totally rude to this guy. I had to work with him for three weeks. I looked around desperately.
Jimmy was walking by with his tray, all finished with his dinner.
“Hey, Jimmy, is it time for our tour?” I called out.
He turned and gave me a look. Not totally stunned but close.
“Did you already forget? You were going to show me, uh, everything around here.”
Steve interrupted. “If you need a tour, Kelly, I would be more than happy to give you a very special one.” Yeah, and I bet I knew where that tour would end up.
“Maybe next time, Steve-O,” Jimmy said, the light finally going on in his head. “I did promise Kelly, and I gotta keep my promises.”
I stood and gathered up my half-eaten dinner. “Okay, see you guys later. Bye, Eric.” Eric snorted up a little bit of pudding when I said his name, and he started coughing again. As I walked out of the dinner hall with Jimmy, I breathed a sigh of relief. But in some ways it was out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“Where exactly did I promise to take you?” Jimmy asked with one eyebrow raised.
“Argh. You don’t have to take me anywhere, I was only trying to get away from Steve.” I bit into the apple I had snagged from my tray. I didn’t even get to finish my dinner.
“No, it’s cool. You don’t have to make excuses. I get that you want to be with me. But you could ask me out like a normal person instead of stealing my stuff and making up dates.”
“Oh my God, you’re worse than he is. I am not coming on to you. Is this hockey camp or hook-up camp?”
Jimmy smiled smugly. “Most girls actually like Steve-O. He’s a bit of a ladies man.”
“Maybe for the terminally desperate. Oh sorry, is he your friend?”
“I used to look up to him when I was younger, but he had some setbacks in the Q and now he’s kind of negative, so not really. We get along good though.”
I pitched the apple core into the woods. “Well, I think I’ll be going back to my room now. Thanks for the save.”
“But Kelly, what if Steve-O or one of the other guys sees you? I think we better do at least a short tour—to protect your reputation.”
I snorted in reply to that. Jimmy was more interesting than anyone else I had met so far, but that wasn’t saying much. He was fun to talk to but kind of odd. We walked around the camp, and he was actually useful, showing me the trail that led to the arena and taking me to all the other areas, like the activities room, the campfire pit, and the dryland training zones.
“You’ve been coming here for years?” He seemed familiar with every corner.
Jimmy nodded. “The first time I got here, man, I was pumped. To do hockey stuff all day, and to be coached by Burt—he played for Detroit, you know—well, it was the best thing I could imagine.”
I smiled up at Jimmy and nodded. “That’s sweet. It’s easy to imagine you as a boy here.” Mainly because he still looked like a kid.
He blinked his wide eyes at me and cleared his throat. “We’re playing a little pickup hockey tonight. You in?”
“Sure.” I wondered if it was full contact. I doubted it, since nobody wanted to get hurt before the camp even began.
“Seven-thirty, at the rink.”
Our tour led back to the camp, and I went to my room to unpack and get settled. I had a ton of restless energy. I called my parents to let them know I got here okay. Then I arranged my limited t-shirt and shorts collection in my drawers. I re-taped my sticks. Finally, I grabbed my gear and headed to the rink. Some of the guys looked surprised to see me, but others smiled in a friendly way.
“Is she playing too?” I heard through the half-open door of a dressing room.
“Yeah, she’s on my team,” Jimmy’s low voice replied.
There were some whining murmurs, but I couldn’t tell what was being said. Jimmy seemed to command a lot of respect in the room for some reason, and what he said went.
I went to the washroom and got my gear on. I missed the women’s dressing rooms of university. This was like being back in minor hockey. I sat on the bench outside the rooms and tied up my skates. Jimmy walked by in full gear. His gear looked expensive, like his sticks.
“If you’ve got a black jersey, put it on,” he commanded as he walked by. He seemed different now, stern and completely focused. He was getting into a competitive pregame headspace.
I rooted around for my black practice jersey and pulled it out of my bag. As I pulled off the red one, a couple of the guys whistled at me. I rolled my eyes. For crying out loud, I was wearing full length Underarmour, shoulder protectors, and elbow pads. I had been wearing less when I arrived at the camp. Move along, boys, nothing to see here. I wished Deirdre were here too. She had a smartass comeback for any situation. All the guys at camp seemed to have known each other for years, and I was the only new person as well as the only girl.
I shook off the sadness once I got on the ice. It was nice to skate and get ready to play. I circled the rink and stretched my arms. The familiar rhythm comforted me. We were only seven a side, so I knew I would get some decent ice time, no matter what the other guys thought. We were going to play four-on-four. The teams had been decided back in the dressing room; Steve was one captain, and Jimmy was the other. In my opinion, Jimmy seemed to be saddled with the worst players, including me. Not that anyone was actually bad, but some were really good. And Jimmy was the best of all.
Watching him play was a revelation. His skating was smooth and powerful, and his stick handling was amazing. He had super-soft hands and a beauty of a wrister. His forecheck was so efficient; he sailed in and wrested the puck out, time after time. If I were playing with him, I kept moving, tried to stay open, and the puck arrived magically on my stick. The goalie had a tendency to go down fast, especially on me, so I kept roofing it blocker side. After four goals, I passed it around to share the wealth. I think Jimmy wanted to prove I could play, and he had, but I was no puck hog. Remembering what he had said about floaters, I went digging for the puck as well, trapping it on the boards and pushing a surprised Steve around once.
And I played both ends, even blocking one shot that had me hobbling back to the bench nursing my left side.
“You okay?” Jimmy had skated up to the bench.
“Yeah.” Probably would have been more believable if I hadn’t squeaked out the reply.
He skated off to defend. As he went end to end, I realized I was finding him increasingly attractive. Leave it to me to get turned on by hockey skills. I mean, he had said on the bus that he was a good player, but guys always tell you stuff like that. Plus Jimmy was totally focused. Even though it was just pickup, he was very competitive and took charge of the team. He constantly talked on the ice, telling people where to be and who to cover. It might have been irritating if he weren’t right all the time. It was kind of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he was this goofball off the ice, but totally in charge on the ice.
I realized Jimmy was the best hockey player I had ever seen in real life.
“Man, Jimmy’s really good,” I said to the guy beside me on the bench. I think his name was Dustin.
“Do y’think?” he said, giving me an incredulous look.
A light bulb came on in my head. I felt embarrassed it had taken so long. Jimmy: from Fredericton, plays for Maine, was just in Vancouver, and he’s really good. Unbelievably good.
Click.
He was James freaking Frechette, and he had just been taken third overall in the NHL Draft by the Blackhawks.