Hey everyone-- I'm Amanda. I'm new to the site (well, at least the member's perspective of it, anyway) and this is my first published story. I have, however, been reading many stories in the past year or so, and have been writing for quite a long time. I have now finally decided to post something on here (so forgive me if the format is strange or there are errors in spacing or whatnot) for everyone to see. I do love feedback and would love it if you could take a minute and let me know what you thought.
I have two stories for Miracle I am currently working on (this is my most recent endeavor) and you should be seeing the other sometime soon... It is one of my all-time favorite movies and I love writing stories about it. Being an insane hockey fan myself, I have so much respect to all of the players on this team-- they truly did accomplish a miracle, and I would like to pay them a tribute (however small it may be). This will be a multi-chapter story, and I have taken a lot of time writing and editing it.
And yes, I know some people really get sick of having stories 'right out of the movie' (with lines verbatim, entire scenes depicted, what have you), but just give this one a chance- maybe it'll surprise you.
Lastly, I obviously do not own any of the wonderful boys featured in the movie Miracle, but I sure wish I did. All of those boys are on the top of my Christmas List... However, Maggie, my character, I do own.
So, without further adieu, I would like to present to you my recent effort of a hopefully entertaining piece of fiction... Enjoy!
Chapter One
Minneapolis, Minnesota
Tuesday, June 3, 1979
"Maggie, can you give me a hand and bring these plates into the living room for me, please?" Patti Brooks asked, pointing to the stack of dishes sitting on the kitchen counter.
"Yeah." Maggie replied, grabbing them off the counter and carrying them into the living room. Setting the plates down on the table, she looked out the window, somewhat fogged up from the steady rain that had been falling for the past two days.
"I think Dad's home." she said, seeing her father's sedan come up the driveway. "His flight must have got in early."
The door opened a few moments later, revealing Herb Brooks running in from the rain.
"Hey." Patti called as she entered the room, setting down another small stack of dishes on the table beside Maggie. She appeared in the doorway to greet her husband.
"It's coming down out there." Herb said, shaking the water off of his jacket and heading into the kitchen. "Hey, where are the kids?" he asked.
Patti walked in the kitchen, Maggie dolefully tagging along behind her.
"Oh, I gave them away." She laughed. "But Maggie's here." Herb looked up, seeing his oldest daughter leaning on the doorframe.
"Hey Pumpkin." He said, nodding at Maggie with a small smile on his face.
"Hey Dad." She smiled weakly, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the kitchen wall. "How'd it go?" She was just as interested- passionate, really- about hockey as her father, and had been waiting earnestly all weekend to hear the results about his job offering.
Herb shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair.
"Aw, I'm not their guy." He said over his shoulder while walking over to the refrigerator. "The only reason they had me come out there was because two other coaches already said no. I think they're still looking East coast." He said, reaching in the refrigerator for the pitcher of water and a glass.
Glancing down the hall and seeing three costumes hanging on the door, he turned towards Patti.
"What's that?" he asked somewhat suspiciously, filling his glass. He looked over at Maggie.
"It's a costume party, Herb." Patti supplied, enthusiasm in her voice.
"No, Patti." He stated.
"Come on. Nick and Nora Charles. 'The Thin Man'." She begged, grinning.
"You're gonna make me wear this?" he asked her.
"Yes. They're sophisticated, they're dashing, they're debonair…" she said with flair.
Herb turned to his daughter. "Did you know about this?"
Maggie held up her hands in defense. "I had no control over it. I tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted!" He shook his head and turned out if the kitchen, heading towards the stairs.
"I've got a mustache for you," Patty persisted, following him.
"Aw, no Patti!" Herb groaned.
"And a little dog for me!" she said, smiling. Walking back into the kitchen, she beamed elatedly at her daughter, yipping lightheartedly.
(Maggie's POV)
"I can't believe I have to do this." I groaned, looking at myself in the mirror above my dresser later that night. I had tried everything- and I mean everything- to persuade my mother to allow me to stay upstairs with Kelly and Danny; anything other than having to attend the costume party. I have never especially been fond of parties or any social event, but now after the accident I disliked them even more.
See, my mother always has enjoyed having parties and hosting events. She is an extremely extroverted person, something which I think is great, but her outgoing, extremely sociable personality clashes terribly with my Dad's and mine. We're probably the most introverted people in all of Minnesota; we're not exactly ecstatic when a hundred people come over to munch on Trail Mix, sip martinis and champagne, and make small talk... But, then again, if the world was in either my dad's or my hands, everyone would be living in caves without costume parties, martinis, champagne, Trail Mix, and no one would have to make boring conversation with complete strangers…
But, once more, if the world indeed was in our hands, we would make everyone play hockey all the time… And that is the one thing my mother will simply not put up with.
Sure, she likes the game, but she believes that my dad and I have an obsession about something too simple and petty to take seriously. 'It's just a game, Maggie. No one is dying over it' is what she always said. She was cooperative with driving me to games and practices, stood cheering dutifully in the stands as every other mother did, and if we lost would buy me an ice cream or take me to a movie to feel better, but she never did understand why my dad and I loved the game of hockey so much. Dad, of course, was always coaching the team I was on, and he was the one who stayed out with me until late in the night on the pond down the hill with only his car's headlights providing light to see the puck with. He always seemed to get me, if that makes any sense. Kindred spirits, you could say. Dad and I understand each other. We get why we act like we do, we understand why one would hide in the house with all the blinds shut and the lights out watching old game film when there's a party down the street or a block party outside. It's no mystery to us as to why we spend hours on end setting up a play on the ice, and if the control of the puck was lost or went wide of the net you would do it over and over again until you can run it like clockwork. My mother calls us crazy; she says we work too hard at a simple game. Although I am the first to admit I love the sport, we both have the tendency to completely devote and submerse ourselves into what we love, and no matter what the task is or how hard it would be to accomplish, we always kept at it until we finally succeeded in what we had set out to do. I think it's a noble trait, and even though it can get a little out of hand occasionally, its positive aspects greatly outnumber the negative ones.
Twenty-one year old Margaret Yvonne Brooks was almost the spitting image of her father, with both appearances and mannerisms. She had the identical chocolate brown hair and fair skin as her father, the same blazing light blue eyes, and especially the same fervor about hockey. Being his first child, Herb had taught her everything he knew about the sport he cared so deeply for. Maggie had practically been skating figure-eights since before she could walk, and had played and watched hockey ever since she could remember. She had connected with her father at an early age, and their relationship had always been exceptionally strong. Maggie loved Patti just as much as she loved Herb, but the strong foundation wasn't there like it was with her father.
Maggie always knew what she wanted. In May, she graduated from the University of Minnesota as a Communications Major, what she had wanted to do since her freshman year of high school. One of her best friends, Rob McClanahan, had attended school with Maggie since elementary school, and even played on the same junior hockey team year after year with her (Herb as the coach, of course).
Throughout middle school- and especially high school- she and Rob had an amazing friendship. They were always together, and it was certain that if Maggie was there, Robbie was nearby. In college they remained as close as ever, their relationship the same dependable one it had been all the years before.
At freshman orientation, Maggie sat next to a girl that would soon come to be one of her best friends. Ellie Dawson was everything that Maggie wasn't, and the two immediately hit it off. Their opposite natures created a bond that most people could never understand. Throughout their four years at UM, the two were tremendously close. They shared a bond that was unbreakable, and knew that they would be lifelong friends…
But then that terrible night occured, and everything ended. Maggie immediately spiraled into a deep depression, discarding everyone's incessant offers for help. Even when Robbie tried to talk to her and convince her to seek help she refused.
That was in late April. For the last month of her senior year, Maggie practically killed herself with her schoolwork. She passed all of her final exams with flying colors- graduated with honors, even. But she never was the spirited, amazing person she had been before.
Maggie never returned to her old self, although she hid it extremely well. She smiled, came out of her bedroom she had retreated and hidden in for two months, and finally seemed like the old Maggie was coming back again. Everyone was tremendously relieved she could finally get on with her life, but in reality it was all a facade to keep people from constantly wanting her to 'talk about it' and try to 'get over' what had happened and move on.
She didn't fool everyone, however. Her friends and close family could tell the difference and could sense her cry for help. They could see the bags under her eyes she desperately tried to cover with makeup, how her smile never reached her eyes, how the spark was never there when she laughed. They all could see the difference in the woman who, before, would make you feel incredible just by talking with her, but would now retreat inside herself and bury her feelings with a vengeance.
Robbie and her other friends tried everything they could to get her out and back to enjoying her life, but nothing ever seemed to work. No one knew that Maggie would cry herself to sleep every night, or how she no longer enjoyed anything she used to. No one knew that Maggie had completely fallen apart on the inside, and regardless of how hard she tried could not put herself together again.
So as I looked at myself dressed as an Indian, with feathers in my braids and sandaled feet, I felt as empty as ever. I thought I looked pretty, though not in the least bit resembling an Indian: the blue eyes, pale skin, and freckles pretty much ruined my chances of that. The costume fit, it showed off my curves (something I'm glad I inherited from my mother) and I didn't even put that much of a fight with my mother over having to wear it. I figured it was pointless arguing with her; I only hoped I would be able to get back upstairs away from everyone as soon as I could.
My hair was in two braids, with a feather sticking up off the back of my head, fastened with one of those Pocahontas strings around my forehead like the hippies used to wear in the sixties.
"Maggie, the party is going to start in twenty minutes! Come downstairs and help me put the food out!" Mom yelled from downstairs.
I groaned. Getting one last look at myself in the mirror before heading downstairs, I made a face at my reflection. I hate parties. I thought, walking out my bedroom door.
I always have memories of my house smelling of hors' d'evoures, perfume on the women and cologne on the men, hearing smooth jazz playing on the record player, watching people milling around chatting aimlessly, all strangely taking pleasure from it. I'd sit on the stairs and peek through the banister at all the pretty ladies smiling and laughing, and the men being charming and polite long after I was supposed to be in bed asleep. And when I was old enough, my mother made me attend- she said everyone loved seeing me, they thought I was so cute, and My! How much I looked like Herb!
That first party, I was bored to tears and ever since have hated them.
Even in college when Ellie would take me to parties I hated it. I am the kind of person who would stay in their room with the TV or their stereo on and study while a party was going on just down the hall. I was happiest with a movie on television or with a good book in my room- preferably alone. When Mom always made me go to her parties when I was a teenager, I managed to sneak Robbie through the back door and we would sit in the wet room and talk for hours with the party happening on the other side of the kitchen. Every half hour or so I would sneak back out to steal some food for him and I and to look like I was having a good time- all the while letting my mother see me- and come back to our spot and eat.
That's the awesome thing about Robbie. He and I are so close we know what the other one is thinking. I can tell just by his body language what he's feeling and he has this uncanny ability to sense when I'm feeling down. He's the only one who really knows how it feels to be like that all the time- to not be able to get over something incredibly devastating in just a few short months. He will listen to me when no one else will, and will always be there to rub my back and offer a hug when I feel like crying.
"Just forty-five minutes, Maggie. Forty-five minutes. It won't kill you to actually have a conversation with of our friends. Come on, do something productive." I rolled my eyes. Mom and I were in the kitchen; she was putting Trail Mix onto cookie sheets and placing them in the oven to toast while I was drying the good china by the sink.
"Mom, I assure you when you were my age you had no desire to talk to people that were twice as old as you. Can't I just stay upstairs with Danny and Kelly?" I pleaded. "Playing with them would be just as productive as making small talk with people dressed in ridiculous costumes." I knew I was fighting a losing battle, but I wasn't going to give up yet. If only Dad was even slightly interested in this party... he would be able to talk both me and himself out of attending that night by coming up with some crazy excuse about having to stay locked in his office watching TV or talking and having a good time by ourselves.
"Margaret Yvonne, don't you argue with me. You are going to stay downstairs and attend this party even if I have to tie you down to a chair the entire time!"
"Mom! Come on! I don't feel like it. Please, let me stay upstairs?" I called as I went into the living room to put a tray of hors d'evoures on the table.
Mom gave me a nasty look through the doorway. That was it. When my mother started to get angry, the smart thing to do was to give up and stop arguing- or else you would get the brunt of her unpleasant demeanor. That itself was something to be feared.
I sighed. "I will stay down here for forty-five minutes, no more and no less, I promise. Is that okay with you, Mother?"
She smiled, smug she had won the argument, and patted my cheek. "Yes. You just remember what you said." With that, she placed a bowl of warm Trail Mix in my hands and walked back into the kitchen.
The phone rang as soon as I walked into the kitchen carrying an empty bowl of punch.
(approx. an hour later)
"Mom, we need more punch!" I said to my mother's back, who was scraping food into a trash can.
Mom turned around smiling with a slightly flustered look on her face. "Just get it out of the fridge, dear." Hearing the phone ring, Patti turned. "Oh, Linda, could you get that for me?" Linda, one of my mother's friends from work dressed as who I assumed to be Marie Antoinette, nodded.
"Oh, sure." She picked up the receiver from the wall. "Hello?... Yes, just a moment, please." She put the receiver to her shoulder.
"Patti, it's for Herb, someone from the U.S.O.C.?" she said. I immediately jumped. That was the Olympic Committee in Colorado Springs! They were calling back about Dad's coaching position!
"I'll go tell him!" I offered, running out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the rec room where I knew Dad was hiding out from the party. Funny how he didn't ever make it downstairs when the party started.
"Dad!" I cried, bursting into the room. He was in the middle of a foosball hockey match against Danny.
"Yeah?" he said distractedly, never looking up from the game.
"Dad." I persisted, now sounding more serious. He finally stopped, looking up at me. "The U.S.O.C.'s on the phone."
His face froze, and immediately rushed over to the door.
"We're not done here." He said, looking back at Danny, walking out of the room with me right behind him.
(3rd Person)
"…Well I appreciate that, Walter. Thank you." Herb hung up the phone.
"What'd they say?" Patti asked, walking into her husband's office towards the end of the party. Maggie was slung over in an armchair in the corner, listening to the whole phone conversation as she pretended to skim through a book.
"I got the job." He said, smiling up at Patti. He looked over at Maggie. "I got the job, huh? How 'bout that?" he grinned. He reached over and embraced Patti.
"Oh, that's great! When do you start?" Patti exclaimed.
"Two weeks."
"Two weeks?" Patti interjected. "They want you to start that soon?"
"The games are in February, so…" he started.
"But it's June!" Patti exclaimed. "Is there even ice?" she smiled. It faltered, however a moment later. "Honey, we were supposed to take the kids to the Black Hills…"
"I know, I know…"
Just then Kelly came running in, dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.
"Mommy! Mommy!" Patti turned towards her youngest child. "Cleopatra's leaving, and she wants to say goodbye to you." She said matter-of-factly.
"Okay, okay." Patti replied, nodding and walking towards the door.
"I gotta call Craig Patrick right now." Herb exclaimed, putting his glasses back on and looking excitedly through the Rolodex on his desk.
(Maggie's POV)
"Hey Maggs?" Dad said to me, after placing the phone back on its cradle. He wasn't able to reach Craig, but he left a message telling him to call Dad back as soon as he got it.
"Yeah Dad?" I replied, glancing up from my book and setting it back on the bookshelf.
"How'd you like to help me out on the team?" I froze. Did he just say what I thought he said? How was I going to get around this one?
"Uh, well…" I started. But Dad cut me off.
"'Cause I think it would be good for you. You know, get out. It would do you good. It's been practically two months now, Maggs. It won't hurt if you start to get over it." I sighed. This was what this was about. Didn't they understand that a few short weeks wasn't going to change everything?
"Well, Dad," I started once again, but like every other time, I got cut off.
"I'm not taking no for an answer. You're gonna be on that plane with me to Colorado Springs in two weeks." He paused, thinking. "And you're the team manager."
Well, there was no talking him out of that one.