~JACK'S POV~
My roommate is another guy from Boston, Jack Hughes. Yes, two Jacks in the same room, both Bostonians. When I get to our room, he is laying on his bed and reading a book. When the door close behind my back he looks up: "Didn't you go out with the others?"
"Well, I did. But I don't feel like being around Min-"
"Guys from Minnesota, right?"
"And that girl."
"You mean Kimberly, right? Chick from Brown University?"
"Yeah, her," I plop down on my bed and bury my head in a pillow. "I don't get it, what is a girl doing in men's team?"
"I don't know, it's weird. Hey, did you answer all of those questions?"
I lift my head and look at him: "Not all of them, what about you?"
"Halfway through it. Ya think coach is slightly insane?"
"Slightly? After all, he is a coach of Minnesota."
"Have you seen how many guys from Minnesota he picked? Bet the team will not have any guys from Mass on the final roster."
"I hope he won't make the team only from Minnesotans, that would be unfair."
"Let's hope we stand a chance… Hey, should we finish the test?"
Okay, I am not in a mood, but I know I will have to finish it eventually. And solving a test with a teammate can't hurt anyone, seems like a good way of bonding.
One hundred fifty questions and more than an hour later our tests are completed and I have learnt so much about this guy. I must admit, I wouldn't mind having Jack Hughes as my teammate (or even line mate, to be honest) at the Olympics more than half a year away from now. He is an easy-going player, but it's obvious he dislikes Minnesota. After we finish our tests, I grab one can of beer from the mini fridge for myself and toss one to him before sitting down on my bed.
"So, do you think playoffs '76 will repeat?" Hughes asks, taking a sip of his beer. Ah, the semifinals '76…infamous semifinals. I did play back then and I was of course one of the enforcers. From all the guys from BU here, Rizzo and I were the only ones to actually be a part of the team. A minute into a game the gloves dropped and this huge fight happened. It took an hour for an actual game to begin. And yes, it was Boston University against University of Minnesota.
"I hope so," I grin and empty the can.
"Trust me, Terriers are still not over that. I know we won two years later, but Minnesota has just won another title."
"I know, I know, but remember, Brooks is a coach of the U, do you think it would be clever to get into a brawl?"
I think for a second: "Better now than later."
"You are right about that. What about the girl? Why you hate her so much?"
I get up from my bed and start pacing back and forth the small confined room: "Well, during the tryouts she told me I should get lost. While I was just, you know, trying to help a damsel in distress."
Hughes' eyes are wide open: "Really? She seems really nice, I would never expect her to do that."
"Well, she did. Plus, a girl has nothing to do among men. No matter how good she is or how fast she can skate."
"I agree she has nothing to do here, but… would you really injure her that much to force Brooks to send her home?"
"No. I am going to make her wish like hell she never came here. I am going to make her go home by herself."
"You already have a plan how to do that?"
I sit back on bed and slip under covers before answering: "Not yet. But I will come up with something before tomorrow's practice."
"Just be careful, okay? Don't get sent home instead of her," Hughes warns before he turns off the lights in the room. After "good night's" the room sinks in silence, giving me a perfect opportunity to start thinking about my plan. How to send her back home without being sent back to Charlestown…Whatever I will do, it has to be done right.
~KIMBERLY'S POV~
Dear diary.
I don't even know how to describe my first week of the Olympic experience. I have already made few friends with guys from Minnesota and with one from Boston. But those guys from Boston University are…tough guys. I saw few of them in the bar and they didn't hang out with others. And there is another thing. John J. O'Callahan. He has been an asshole since the first second we met and he is starting to piss me off more and more. I hate to admit that, but the glares he keeps sending in my direction, are starting to freak me out. I've heard guys from the U talk about the semifinals 1976 and they told me him and Mike Eruzione were a part of that team. And guys who played for the U back then told me he has always been the first one to drop gloves. I don't know, that makes me feel uneasy. I wish I could see gals from my team and talk with them about it…
Also, if I thought playing for coach O'Connell was hard…I have never been so wrong. Coach Brooks had us all taken some kind of psychological tests. We'll see how this will end…
Well, that's it for now, I will check in again soon. I hope.
K.
I sigh and bury my diary under the layers of clothes I brought with me. Usually, writing a diary makes me feel somehow relieved, but not today. I can't shake O'Callahan's glares out of my head. Even though guys from the U and UMD promised me they would not let him close, I feel really uneasy. For a second the phone on the nightstand tempts me to pick it up and call Ali. I know her phone number at Brown so I could technically call her. Or maybe I could call any of the other girls from the team, but I realize calling home is not an option. Now I am here and I will have to deal with everything like my new team. Like one of the guys, whether I like it or not.
A soft knock on the door interrupts my train of thoughts and I get up from my bed.
"Who is it?"
"It's me, Neal. Open up."
I open the door and invite him in: "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, don't worry. Just came to check up on you if you arrived safely."
"That's so nice of you, Neal. Thank you. And as you see, I did. Have you finished your test?"
He smacks his forehead: "Damn it, I knew I had forgotten something! Thank you for reminding me!"
He quickly pecks my forehead and nearly trips on his way out. Laughing, I yell after him: "Good night, Neal!"
As soon as I close and lock the door, I feel waves of tiredness coming after me. After a quick shower, I crawl under blankets and fall asleep quickly. Tomorrow is the first practice and I really don't want to miss it.
~JACK'S POV~
"OC, wake up," someone shakes me. I open my eyes and look up at the guy who dared to wake me up: "What?!"
"We have practice. And if you don't get up right now, we, or you, will be late."
"Practice?"
"Olympic team? Are you kidding me right now?"
Oh, shit! I somehow forgot I am not at the BU anymore. And that new coach is a strict guy who gave us tests.
I let out a groan, but get out of bed. After quick shower, both Jacks are ready for practice. Each of us carrying his stick and with bag hanging over his shoulder, we head towards the Bloomington Ice Arena in relaxing silence. At the entrance coach Patrick stops us: "Morning, boys. Do you have your tests?"
"Yeah," Jack passes him his neatly folded test while mine is a bit crumpled. Before I hand it to coach Patrick, I quickly try to make it look a bit more presentable.
"I am sorry, coach. I didn't mean to bring the test back like that…"
"No problem, Jack. So, you know where the locker room is, right? We have given you your assigned stall. The only thing you have to do is find it. And after practice, you can leave your bags here, they will be taken care of."
"Thank you, coach."
I hurry to the locker room and check who my "neighbors" are. And someone must be f*cking with my mind. Okay, on my right is Silky, thank god, but on my left side…yeah, you have guessed, is that Brown chick. With a sigh I sit down and start pulling out my gear. Across the room I notice Rizzo, who smiles a bit. I return him a smile, which dies as soon as I notice McClanahan is Rizzo's "neighbor". Rolling my eyes, I huff and turn around.
"You have got to be shitting me," female voice says next to me. Great, she has arrived.
"Same here."
She glares daggers at me, apparently trying to scare me or god knows what, but it only makes me smirk: "Keep trying to kill me with your glaring, puppet, maybe one day you will realize pretending to be a guy doesn't suit you."
"Maybe one day you'll realize hockey is men's game."
Only a grip on my shoulder stops me from beating the crap out of her. Anger flows through my veins as I snatch the helmet off the hook and pull it on my head.
"See ya on the ice," I mumble to Silky and with my hands still clenched into fists, head on the ice.
"She is not getting away with any of it. She is f*cking dead woman and I will personally take care of it. A bitch ruining the game…"
"Is there a problem, Jack?"
I look up and see, to my misfortune, coach Brooks standing only few inches away. It takes a second for me to regain my confidence: "Not at all, coach. I was…just thinking out loud…about, uh, my ex-girlfriend."
He looks at me and says calmly: "Is it? Then you should focus on something else, not on her."
"Yes, coach, I will."
I quickly slip past him and get on the ice. Davey and Rizzo soon join me and first thing Dave does is put hands on my shoulder pads: "Get yourself together, Jack. She is not worth it."
"Listen to Silky, OC. Remember why are we here."
I open my mouth to say something when the whistle blows. All twenty-seven of us are already on the ice and the silence lays above us as soon as Herb blows the whistle.
"Welcome to the first practice, gentlemen. And lady. We will start with different skill stations and end today's practice with working on different plays. Any questions? No? Okay, Janaszak and Craig, go to the nets please. After the warm-ups," Herb stops both goalies from skating to their nets. Then he quickly checks the roster and calls out one of the players from Minnesota. Speaking of favoritism.
"Baker, lead the warm-ups!"
"Yes, coach."
Two or so hours later we are all pretty exhausted and we haven't even gotten to the plays yet.
"Come on, Ramsey, a dead horse is in better shape than you are! And you are the youngest! Rizzo, what are you doing ?! Pass the goddamn puck or shoot it! Christoff! STOP HANGING BY THE BOARDS AND MOVE YOUR FAT LAZY ASS!"
I swear, he never runs out of creative ways to kick our asses around or make us feel worthless.
"O'CALLAHAN!"
I snap out of my daydream as I hear my name being called. Not called, yelled.
"Yes, coach?"
"Get off the ice, RIGHT NOW!"
I look around and notice everyone, except for me, has gotten off the ice already. I skate to the bench and plop down next to Coxy.
The first line starts and I see why Johnson made the team. What this guy is doing on the ice is…magic. Honestly.
"That's it. KICK IT OUT!"
"Look for the pass! Come on, hit him with a pass! Go, Johnson!"
"OUTSIDE!" One of the guys yells, but Johnson seems to ignore him as he keeps skating towards the net.
"Alright, Johnson, hit him on the other side!" Herb gestures with his stick and his words appear to go unheard.
"SILK, KEEP IT UP! Move and hit him, Johnson, he is open!"
Silky calls Johnson, but this guy apparently doesn't hear anything: "Center! Center!"
"Come on, Johnson!"
But he doesn't pass and when he tries to score, he hits the post. From the bench I see how he rolls his eyes just before Herb calls him: "JOHNSON! Coast-to-coast stuff may work here, but it won't against the teams we'll be playing."
"OK," Johnson mumbles before skating to the bench and only few seconds later, Herb calls up another line.
"Next line up. Let's go. Let's run it again."
I glance over at the other bench, keeping my gaze on McClanahan and that girl. He gets on the ice and I stand up as well. Ken already has one leg over the boards as I stop him: "Morrow, let me take this one."
He looks at me surprised, but lets me take his spot.
"This is a breakout play, gentleman. So let's get rid of the puck early."
A moment before Herb blows the whistle, I glance over at McClanahan. Of course he is ready, what else to expect…well, I hope he is ready to get ran over by Boston. My lips curve into a small smirk as Herb blows the whistle. Let the fun begin…
~KIMBERLY'S POV~
Needless to say, seeing O'Callahan next to me really made my day worse. Out of twenty-six players, he has to have a stall next to me. Not any of the guys from Minnesota, but him. Just great.
After he storms out, Silk looks at me and shakes his head: "You two are acting like the biggest idiots 'round here."
"Not me. Him. But of course, Boston sticks together."
I turn my back to him and quietly pull on my gear. Lastly, I pull the helmet over my long dark hair and take my stick.
"Brots, ya ready?" I call Broten, whose stall is about three or four stalls away from mine.
"As I will ever be. What about you?" he asks when I come closer.
"Same. I am kinda excited. And scared. But you know, I guess you can never truly prepare for the practice."
He drapes his arm around my shoulders and laughs: "Don't worry. You'll do just fine. Good luck out there."
"To you too."
During the scrimmage, I watch every move Johnson makes in awe. The way he slides the puck around with ease and the speed he skates around with is something I have never seen by a college boy. But it's true, he doesn't pass, no matter what coach tells him to do… And Herb is not happy with that especially since Johnson hit the post after over playing all of the other guys.
When Herb calls the next line, Rob next to me gets off the bench and leaps over the boards.
"Hey, Rob."
"Yeah," he turns around and smiles in anticipation.
"Good luck out there."
"Thanks," his grin is the last thing I see before my eyes land on the other side of the ice. On O'Callahan staring at Rob with that killing expression of his. I pull on someone's jersey and the guy, who turns out to be Ramsey, turns to me: "What's wrong?"
"Look at O'Callahan…"
He looks at him and then back at me: "I have no idea what are you talking about. Kim, relax. Okay? He wouldn't da-"
Whatever he wanted to say gets cut off by the horrendous sound of pads hitting pads and helmets hitting together. We all look on the ice and see Rob laying on the ice, Verchota and Harrington already around him. My heart stops for a second before my veins fill with rage. O'Callahan. Who else would have gotten so low to hit his own teammate? No one else, but John J. "Jack" O'Callahan.
I leap over the boards and land on the icy surface just in time to hear O'Callahan say: "Tell your boy to keep his head up so he won't have to worry 'bout it."
