Ken Wu has decided to once again take up figure skating and has left Eden Hall to continue training. Try-outs are being held to fill his spot. This is the story of Zane Flighter and her time with the Ducks.

I was wearing my black Gladiators jersey with all my gear. Here I was in Minnesota, far from my home in California. My father was at my side, screaming at me to tie my skates up faster. A hit to my face let me know I'd better hurry up. People around us stared; my drunk of a father tends to always gather a lot of attention. My mother sat dejectedly on my left, not speaking or acknowledging what was going on. The best way to classify my mother is to think of an empty shell; years of being married to my father have left her indifferent to the world. The Ducks were looking up at me with pity in their eyes; they'd seen him strike me. I guess their Coach had brought them out here to watch us.

"Get out there," My father slurred, pushing me roughly out onto the ice.

I skated up to the Coach, who was wearing a whistle around his neck.

"I'm Zane Flighter," I told him.

He introduced himself as Coach Orion and scanned the list for my name. There were twenty of us all vying for Ken's spot. We'd been scouted by Eden Hall and were brought out here to see who had the most potential on the team. All of us here had heard of the Ducks and had followed them during the Junior Goodwill Games; they were famous to every teenage hockey player in America. Most of the others were from a lot closer than I was; they would be trying out at as many schools as they could within the summer. Me, though, this was my only shot.

"Warm up a bit then grab a puck and line up with the others; we're testing for speed and puck control."

Nodding, I decided to skate a few laps to get my legs warm. My skates dug deep into the ice and I rotated from skating frontward to backward with ease. Hockey has been my life ever since I was little. I needed this team; I needed to get away from my father and I wasn't going anywhere in Chino. Chino is like the slums of California, but it raised my friends and me tough; I really wish they could be here with me now.

The whistle sounded, marking the end of warm up and we all retrieved a puck and headed to the line. We were told that we would be doing a series of sprints with the person coming in last being eliminated to determine the fastest; a devilish smile came across my lips, as I'm known for my speed and puck handling, hence why I am a forward. In the end, it was me and another boy and I smoked him easy; he had speed but no stamina. I shook my head in disgust, hadn't they scouted some real competition?

"Penalty shots, three chances each," Coach Orion instructed us.

If there is one thing my Coach back home can't stand its how I toy around. My first shot, I made a mockery out of the goalie by completely faking him out; he had thought I'd shot when truly I hadn't, so I swiped it in easily. The second two I took seriously once I saw Coach Orion give me a look, easily sweeping them past into the net. Cheers erupted from the Ducks; they were cheering for those that they believed would be best for the team. So far, I could tell I was in the running. Our next challenge was a miniature scrimmage. There were four teams of five and two scrimmages going on at once. I was doing fine until I felt someone's stick hook my skate and purposefully knock me down. This is illegal in hockey and quite frankly a pretty cheap shot. Before my opponent even thought I was up off the floor, I had my gloves off and was in his face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing asshole?" I shouted and sent him sprawling to the ice.

I skated toward him, ready to deliver a few punches when the whistle sounded.

"Enough!" Coach Orion's voice barked out.

Everything froze and silence took over the ice. The Ducks had risen from their seats and were watching the scene.

"Break it up," Orion told us, his icy eyes glaring into me, "Get some ice for that eye."

I tried to tell Coach that my eye had been black before today, but his gaze made me change my mind. Picking up my gloves and helmet, I stepped off the ice and made my way over to the cooler to grab a pack of ice. To my luck, the cooler was directly next to the Ducks and it was really awkward.

One of them spoke up, "Don't worry about it; Coach Orion won't drop you because of a fight."

"Good because it wasn't my fault anyway," I responded, taking a swig out of my water jug.

The sound of footsteps echoed from above and I saw my father stumbling down.

"What in the hell are you doin'? Get back out there!" My father yelled.

I simply rolled my eyes and threw the icepack onto the bleachers, muttering curses about my father as I stepped out onto the ice. A grin found its way to my lips; my father's idiotic behavior sometimes makes me laugh, especially since he'd given me the black eye. Don't ask me why I laugh at things like that; my friends say it's just the best way to deal with it. I skated quickly around the rink once to get my legs warm once again before joining back in with the team I was scrimmaging. The whistle sounded about five minutes later and I hoped that my little ice break wouldn't affect my standing.

"Alright, you guys can go get showered and changed," Coach Orion told us, "I will tell you the result in about an hour."

Throughout the entire time it took me to grab a shower, blow-dry my long, blonde hair, and change into my jeans and wife-beater, my mind was on whether or not I would make the team. Man, did I need this. The thought of my mother haunted me; would she be okay with my father on her own? He didn't normally hit her, but he did call her things that could make even me cringe. Still, he did hit me pretty often and I knew I needed out. My heart was racing as I walked out of the locker room. Deciding the pressure was a lot to take and that I had a little bit of time before the person was announced, I dipped outside to grab a cigarette. Yeah, I know it's terrible for me but it's my life so back off.

"Well, that's amazing that you're so fast, yet you smoke," A voice from behind me said.

I turned and came face to face with the voice and realized it was Portman, one of the Bash Brothers.

"Gunna go tell your coach on me?" I taunted.

"No," He continued, "I'm Dean, just thought I'd offer my future teammate a hello."

"I'm Zane, but don't get my hopes up."

"Weird name, but I'm not getting your hopes up. Coach just called your name and I was sent to find you."

"Shit," I said, quickly stubbing out my cigarette, "Are you serious?"

Dean nodded and I quickly ran inside with him on my heels. All eyes were on me; a couple of the girls who had tried out were crying and a few of the boys were trying not to.

"Congratulations, Zane." Coach Orion told me.

All I could do was smile as the Ducks cheered; I suppose they were happy with the choice. My father came up and slapped me on the back, and I think everyone noticed it was a little hard as I stumbled a few steps.

"What'd I tell you?" My father slurred to Coach," The tryouts weren't necessary, my kids got it all."

My gaze fell to the ice and I felt my ears turn red in embarrassment.

"Nice job, honey," My mother told me as she gave me a hug, her voice barely above a whisper as it always was.

"Thanks Ma," I responded, "You're gunna be okay."

"You can grab your bags out of your car and move in with Connie and Julie," Coach instructed me, giving my father a strange look.

"Sure thing, Coach," I added, smiling at the man.

It didn't take long for my stuff to be unloaded and put inside my new room, which was actually pretty nice. My family didn't have much, but that's okay with me. Julie and Connie introduced themselves to my parents out of politeness and I walked out to the car with my parents out of politeness for Julie and Connie; they didn't need to see this. My mother gave me another hug and a kiss on the cheek before she went back to her seat in the pickup truck; she knew what was about to come. Hell, so did I.

"I swear to god, you mess this up and you'll with you were never born, kid," he started in.

"I ain't gunna mess it up, pop," I told him.

This wasn't enough for him. I knew he'd bruised a couple of my ribs and that I had a gash on my face and a fat lip. He needed to beat on me one more time, since he wouldn't see me for a few months. Inside, I wished I never had to see him again. I situated myself on the curb so that the blood could stop pouring out of my face. A cigarette once again found itself to my lips and I took a shaky inhale.

"Asshole," I said as I watched the pickup disappear and fade away.

"Smoking again? Coach won't appreciate this," I heard the oh-so-familiar voice of Dean Portman behind me once again.

When I turned around, I saw the smile on Dean's, Charlie's, Fulton's, and Banks' faces slip into frowns; Dean's comment wasn't too funny any more once that saw my face.

"What the hell happened to you?" Charlie asked, clearly outraged.

"I fell," I snapped, daring him to question it.

"But..." Banks started.

"Look," I told them more gently this time, "It's over. Drop it, alright?"

The boys all continued to stare at me and I sighed deeply. In Chino, no one takes roughing your kid up as a big deal. Just goes to show you that the times are different everywhere.

"We're going to get pizza down the street with the rest of the team. We want you to come so we can get to know you. Are you up for it?" Charlie asked, changing the subject.

I shot them a smile and told them I was down.

'Things are going to be different now. I can feel it.'

END OF CHAPTER.

Alright there you do. It's a starter chapter so it had to be full of drama and such. Review and let me know what you think.