28:

Flying Blind

(Part Two)


Connie looked up from her math textbook and over at Julie, who sat on her bed, brushing her hair. A rounded mirror was propped up against her pillows.

"Is it really that much of an operation to put your hair into pigtails?" she asked.

"Ha, ha," Julie replied. Connie watched as her friend's reflection gave her a smile of amusement. "You're one to talk, Miss Ponytail." Connie twisted her mouth to the side, pushing her textbook closed, the pages making a soft clap sound as they fell together.

"That's Miss Hammer to you, buddy," Connie said with a mock huff. "You're not going to stick with pig tails on your date with Scooter are you?" She stressed the Varsity player's name.

Julie rolled her eyes before looking over at her friend. She cleared her throat and muttered, "I haven't decided yet."

"Whatever, you look great in everything," Connie waved her hand in the air. "So, don't sweat it. Seriously." She laughed quietly. "On one of my first dates with Guy, his hands were so sweaty, he nearly knocked himself out punching himself in the head when his hand slipped trying to open a door."

"Oh no, poor Guy," Julie said with a laugh, spinning her brush in her hands. "But, I'm not worried about that right now." She pointed the handle of the brush over towards Connie as she spun on her bed to face her. "What we should be worried about is this game against JV."

"You'll get ice time no problem, Jules," Connie said, brushing her hair back behind her ears. "Orion's barely ever taken you out of goal since the season started."

"And Goldberg's been trying to get his spot back ever since," Julie replied. "I have to stay on my game."

"You've had seven goals at our last practice in less than twenty minutes let alone in our last game," Connie reminded her, lifting an eyebrow. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Never let your guard down," Julie said in a sing song voice before she started sectioning off her hair. "That's what my dad always said." She tilted her head to the side and started to twist her hair into a braid. "And I applied it to every part of my life."

"Every part?" Connie asked, calling her bluff.

"You saw how fast I scarfed down those cannolis Goldberg gave me," Julie said, giving Connie a pointed look. "I used to be on an all guys team, remember? I'd be lucky to get a single piece of pineapple—and I mean the small chunk of fruit, not the pizza slice—if I was quick enough." She shrugged. "Sweets are my weakness."

"And Scooter sure is sweet on you," Connie said with a wide grin, suddenly adopting the best southern accent she could muster.

"Ugh!" Julie rolled her eyes. "We're not talking about that, ok?" She paused, her lips twitching just slightly. "Right now, anyway."

"Damn right," Connie said with a grin. "So, how's your dad doing, anyway? Any better?"

"You don't exactly get better with this kind of disease, Con," Julie said, making a brief face. She shrugged her shoulders, twisting her mouth to the side. "He's progressing slowly, which is good. He still remembers a lot of stuff." A smile came to his face. "Like he remembers to give me tips before each game. But, he keeps calling whenever I'm in class because he forgets the time difference and my schedule."

"Aww, oh no," Connie laughed, pulling her knees up to her chest. "That's cute. I'm sorry your family is going through this. I couldn't even begin to imagine what that's like."

"Thank you," Julie replied, blinking her gratitude. "We're just taking it a day at a time. And being here helps believe it or not." She started on the next braid, tilting her head in the opposite direction." I'd be thinking too much about it if you all weren't here."

Connie tilted her head as well, mirroring Julie's. "Glad to be of some help, girl," she said, matching Julie's smile. Her gaze then shifted to the door when they heard a knock. Julie got to her feet and hurried to the door. Connie craned her neck as the door opened and got to her feet as soon as she spotted the familiar mop of hair on Guy's head.

"Hey, Guy," Julie greeted the former JV player.

"Um, two things," Guy said, lifting his hand in a wave. "I just saw Charlie; he said he's heading to the dining hall if you want to go." He looked over Julie's shoulder and locked eye with Connie. "And I wondered if I could talk to you."

"I'll just go get something to eat and give you two some time," Julie said before Connie had even formed her answer. Not that she'd say 'no'. It was Guy after all.

"Are you ok?" Connie asked, instantly noticing Guy's stiff gait as he crossed the threshold of her room. "You look—"

"Like I've had 150 pound guys turning me into a pancake?" Guy asked with a small laugh. "Can't really blame me, can you?"

"Guess not," Connie agreed. "So, what brings you to JV country?" Guy gave a half smile. He was still standing. Connie motioned for him to sit down and he hesitated before dropping down next to her on her bed.

This was weird.

They had never had any awkward moments between them, except for the times when they were first talking about being together-together, or right before their first official date, or even when she had first said she loved him.

But other than that, things were good between them. He was the one who always looked out for her and he was the first to initiate holding hands in public, and she was only following his lead when he leaned in for a kiss after they won their Pee Wee championship game. Boy, she got an earful from her mom after that display.

"Guess I deserve that," Guy said with a nod of his head. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much. It wasn't about you." Connie snorted. "Seriously."

"Guy, we haven't really talked, like talked-talked like we normally do, since I said…you know," Connie pointed out to him.

"Ok," Guy said, turning to face her. "So, let's talk. Let's talk like how we used to talk."

"Ok," Connie agreed. She peered closely at him as she turned to face him as well. "You don't look happy." Guy let out a long sigh and the corners of her lips lifted just slightly. "Annnnd that confirms it."

"It's not that," Guy said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I mean, it is, but it's not. I partly wanted to join Varsity because of you."

"Me?" Connie asked, taken aback. "What do you mean me?"

"I hated knowing I hurt you by not saying…it back," Guy explained, waving his hands in the air. "I didn't know how to bring it up or talk to you about it without thinking you were expecting me to say it, too. So I kind of…just didn't talk about it and hoped I'd be able to figure out what to say over time. Or I could just put all my attention on hockey and hope you forgot."

"Yeah, Guy, girls don't forget anything," Connie said, shaking her head back and forth. She gave him a smile to show that she was joking. The serious look on his face didn't change. "I was kidding."

"Con, I'm sorry I didn't say it back," he said, bowing his head for a brief moment. He then lifted his head and looked her in the eye. "I just wasn't ready to."

"Well, I know that you idiot!" Connie punched him on the shoulder.

"Ow!" Guy shouted, grabbing his arm. He pushed up his shirt sleeve and peered down at the light pink patch of skin before he massaged it with his hand. "What?"

"I never expected you to say, 'I love you, back," Connie explained. Guy stared at her, slowly blinking. "I said it because it's what I felt, and I meant it, and I wanted you to know. That's all." Silence fell over the two of them. He was staring at her the exact same way he did after she had told him she loved him; bewildered and scared and with a hint of happiness or relief thrown in there as well.

"…Oh," Guy said, his voice cracking. Connie swallowed to squish the bubble of laughter that rolled up her throat. He hated it, but she always thought it was cute to hear his voice crack. To her, it showed that he was growing into the man he insisted he already was, and yet was still the Guy she initially had a crush on. He let out a loud groan. "Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have listened to him!"

"Who?" Connie asked.

"Goldberg. And Averman," Guy said, throwing his hand in the air. Connie let out a sound that was halfway between a cough and a gasp of disbelief, her eyebrows shooting up. "They were saying if a girl said it first, then a guy would have to and blah, blah, blah." Connie punched him again. "Ow."

"You listened to those chowder heads?" Connie asked, her voice getting higher pitched with each word. She cleared her throat. "Guy, you not saying 'I love you' to me didn't hurt. It was that you didn't even talk to me about it and that you avoided me. That was what hurt."

She wasn't going to tell him that she had stayed up for days crying and wondering what she had done wrong. She couldn't understand how they could be so perfect one day and the next it was all weird. She didn't regret what she had told him—not completely, anyway. It was how she felt and they always talked about how they felt. But, she couldn't help but wonder if her parents were right, things were moving too fast between them. Not that she'd ever admit that to them.

"I'm sorry," Guy said quietly. "It's not that I didn't care, or don't, care about you, Connie. I really do." He was silent for a moment. "It was how much I cared that kind of started to scare me. I mean, we're in school together so we saw each other all the time, and we have the same interests. Don't think I'm not happy about that, but I was thinking that, well, maybe being on Varsity would give me some time to think about things."

"What'd you figure out?" Connie asked.

"That I miss being around you," Guy replied. "And the other guys."

"Of course," Connie said with a nod of her head.

"It's just, I looked at being on Varsity as a step up for my game," Guy explained, half of his face scrunching up as he thought. "I didn't know it mean having to step up my social life. With them, it's all Varsity all the time. It's always hockey all the time."

"Guy, let's be honest, what the hell else do we talk about?" Connie asked with a laugh, putting her hands to her chest. "Especially after we started coming here?"

"Good point," Guy replied. "It's just not the same. I think Adam's cut out for it, but I think it's just too much at one time for me." He started tapping his foot on the floor. "And I wasn't doing it for the right reasons. I was being an idiot and instead of telling you that I was scared, I just tried to pretend things hadn't changed between us."

Connie reached out a hand, placing hers on top of his. Feeling his warm skin underneath hers sent a familiar shock up her arm. "You don't think I was scared to tell you how I really felt?" she asked him. Guy shrugged his shoulders. "I was terrified in a good and bad way. Apart from family, I had never told anyone else in the world that I loved them."

"If it helps, it made me happy to hear it," Guy said with a shy smile. He turned his hand around and curled his fingers around hers, squeezing just slightly. "I just think maybe we were getting into an area with our relationship that we didn't know how to talk about."

Connie let out a breath of air, suddenly realizing her heart was beating quickly. He still seemed to understand how she felt even when they've gone so long barely speaking to each other. "You think we were moving too fast?" she asked.

"Yeah, a little," Guy admitted, nodding his head. "Maybe a lot."

"I hate to admit when my parents are right, but they were right," Connie muttered, earning a laugh from Guy. "I think we have been, too. I wanted to tell you before but you haven't exactly been around and I wanted to give you space." She used her free hand to brush his hair off his forehead. "Plus, you've looked like something's been bothering you lately and I wanted to give you time to figure it out."

"Well, I have figured it out," Guy replied. Connie prompted him to continue with a look. "I want to come back to the Ducks team. If Orion and you guys will have me, anyway."

"Of course we would, you know that," Connie said, squeezing his hand. "We've missed you. Adam, too." She let out a low whistle though. "Orion though, that's another story."

"I was kind of hoping you'd be able to help me with that," Guy said with a sheepish grin. Connie gasped and swiftly moved to grab a pillow. Guy flinched, expecting her to punch him again, leaving himself wide open for a well placed whack to the head. "Ow! Connie!'

"Guy Germaine, this wasn't just to get me on your side was it?" Connie asked, giving Guy a mock glare.

"Of course it was," Guy replied with a shrug of his shoulders. He grinned before he burst out laughing. "I'm kidding."

Connie rolled her eyes before leaning forward, planting a quick kiss on Guy's mouth. "You're lucky you're cute," she muttered. Guy blushed. "So…we're ok?"

"Yeah," Guy replied with a nod of his head. "We're ok. Let's just take things slow."

"Sure," Connie agreed. "Slow is good."

"So let me take you out after your game," Guy offered. "Spend some time catching up and we can hang out."

"We have that dinner thing with the Varsity," Connie replied with a sigh.

"You don't really want to go to that, do you?" Guy asked, making a face.

"Not really," Connie admitted, her nose wrinkling. "But honestly, I'm not going to get much out of this school if I keep letting Varsity dictate how my year is going to go. And, from what I've heard, it's a nice night." She took in Guy's face. "How about we at least stay for dinner and then go out for dessert?"

"Fine," Guy replied after a moment of silence. He put a smile to his face. "Just as long as I get to spend some time with you."


"Bye, thanks," Adam said to the Banks family driver as they pulled up along the curb in front of Adam's home. He lifted a hand in a wave before hurrying up the path way to the front door. Retrieving his key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and let himself inside. "Dad?"

Hearing the crackling of the intercom, Adam turned towards the wall as he pushed the door shut. "I'm in the study," his father's tight voice reached his ears.

Adam made a face. His dad always seemed to be annoyed with something whether or not he had anything to do with it. Yet, he couldn't help but mentally scroll through everything he had done since the last time he talked to this dad (which admittedly was pretty often) to think of what it was that he could've done to annoy him.

Setting his backpack onto one of the cushy benches that lined the foyer, Adam made a beeline towards the back of the house and his dad's office. He untucked his button down shirt from the waistband of his pants as he did so, smoothing his hands down the wrinkles that formed. He came upon a rustic mahogany styled door and rapped his knuckles against the wood.

"Come in."

Pulling the door open, Adam slipped through the gap, pulling it shut behind him. Philip Banks gave his son a nod in greeting, a phone pressed to his ear. "Mhmm. Yes, ok. I'll see you soon. Thanks for calling. Bye." As he settled the phone down into its cradle, Adam dropped down into the chair facing his dad. "Good news, son, your brother will be home to see the Varsity/JV showdown game."

"That's great," Adam said, a smile coming to his face. He hadn't seen his older brother for a while and always looked forward to the times when he would come home. As he got older and Daniel continued his educational career into college, visits became few and far between.

"He's been asking me to keep tabs on your progress this season," Philip said with a smile, folding his hands down onto the table. "He's proud of you, son, and so am I."

"Heh, thanks, dad," Adam said with a fleeting smile. He wiped his palms down onto his pants legs before grasped the arm rests of his chair.

Philip's gaze of pride slowly changed into a look of curiosity as he looked his son up and down. "You didn't dress like that at school did you?" he asked. Adam looked down at his untucked shirt and gave a brief shake of his head, trying not to roll his eyes. "I don't have to expect another call about you skating to school do I?"

"No, dad, the driver picked me up, don't worry," Adam said, making a face. He lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I wanted to talk to you about the showdown actually. And Varsity."

"Oh?" Philip sat back in his chair. "What about? Is everything all right?"

"…Kind of," Adam replied. He started tapping his fingernails on the arm rests of his chair. "Charlie and I got into a fight about it."

"Oh," Philip said. He waved his hand in the air, chuckling. "Son, we all know that Charlie really enjoys the sport. He could very well be jealous of your accomplishments, but that doesn't mean you should fight because of it."

"Charlie's not jealous," Adam insisted, blinking once. "That's not what the fight was about." Philip's eyebrows twitched and he tilted his head to the side just slightly. "Guy's been thinking about going back to the Ducks."

"Between you and me, Mr. Germaine is a great player, he could even rival your talents I think," Philip explained, running a hand through his hair. "But we both know he wasn't Varsity material. Not like you, son. You've always had t he gumption, the drive to do whatever it was you needed to do to be the best. With some excellent coaching from your brother and yours truly if I do say so myself."

"That's the problem, dad," Adam said with a sigh. "You."

"I'm sorry?" Philip asked, taken aback. "What is it you're trying to say, son?" Adam pressed his lips together, swallowing thickly. "I've only wanted to help you further your career. You can't fault me for that."

"I understand that, dad, and don't think I'm not grateful," Adam explained, tilting his head back to look up at the gold colored ceiling. He ran a hand over his face before sitting up straight in his seat. "You've done a lot and I know I wouldn't be where I am now without what you've done. But, I need to be able to do things by myself if I want to make a career out of it."

"If you want to make a career out of this?" Phillip asked, his dark eyes boring into his son's. "The only thing you have to worry about is playing the game." He put a hand to his chest. "Let me handle everything else."

"Dad, I can't just play the game," Adam protested. "I never could just play the game."

"Explain." Philip's eyes narrowed just slightly as he stared at his son. Adam was beginning to hate that he opened his mouth. "Don't clam up on me now, son. You wanted to talk so let's talk. You don't feel like you can just play the game? Why not?"

"Because now I have to worry who to play for," Adam replied, "and think twice about what I do or say because I don't know what kind of reaction I'll get, and I don't even know if I'll even get the chance to play in a game at all."

"Whoa, whoa." Philip put his hands up defensively, arching an eyebrow. "What are you saying here, son? You don't know who to play for? You don't want to play for the Varsity team?" His eyes widened. "You want to be like Mr. Germaine and go back to the Ducks?"

"Well…no," Adam said, hesitating just slightly. "I mean…I do want to play for Varsity, dad, you know I do."

"Do I?" Philip asked.

"It's just…it's not like how I thought it'd be," Adam said quietly. "

"No one said it'd be easy," Philip reminded him.

"I never expected it to be."

"Not everyone's going to coach you like Bombay."

"Trust me, dad, I know."

"We've worked too hard for you to have doubts about your future right now."

"Was this because of my hard work, or did you just bribe the athletic department with money and new uniforms to get me on the team?"

Silence fell over the office as soon as the words came out of his mouth. Philip settled back in his chair, an unrecognizable look on his face. "Dad…"

"I did what I could to help further your career," Philip said, clearing his throat. "You're a fantastic hockey player and you should be proud of what you've accomplished and what opportunities you've been given."

"I am proud," Adam replied. He leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees. "I just think that my talent should speak for itself."

"And it has," Philip insisted. "But, there needed to be someone behind you to give others the push they needed to recognize that talent."

"Dad, I'm already made fun of enough for how rich we are," Adam said. He threw his hands into the air. "You had to have noticed that I get called Cake Eater by everyone. I mean…it bugged me at first, but with the Ducks, it's just a nickname."

"Son, I thought I taught you that you should never be ashamed of how much money your mother and I have," Philip said, putting his face in his hand. "Your mother and I have worked hard to get what we have." Adam nodded his head. He understood all of that. He could say "I know" over and over again, but it didn't erase the feeling of uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach. "Maybe you haven't worked hard enough."

"What?" Adam asked. He gave his dad a confused look. "I don't understand."

"You just want to focus on playing hockey," Philip replied, "and that's what you'll do. Hockey is the only thing you have to worry about." He put his hand in the air. "I promise."

"Uh…" Adam didn't know what to say. "Ok?" He slowly got to his feet. "Thanks, I guess."

Philip gave a close lipped smile. "Of course."

What just happened?


Danielle let out a breath of air, trying to push a lock of her hair from her forehead. She frowned as it just flopped back down where it began. She used her shoulder to try and move it before admitting defeat and picked up a large black tub filled with dishes from the table she finished clearing, moving to the next one in her section.

The dishes and silverware clinked together as she stacked them as carefully as she could. All the while, complaints sat at the tip of her tongue. Cold fries here, left over macaroni there, and a pile of soggy nachos. She thought the financially inclined type ate more fancy foods. At least it stopped her from having to constantly breathe in the strong smell of crab cakes. Although she has had some unfortunate run-ins with the caviar; she knew she'd be washing her hands over and over for the next few hours at any hope to get the fishy smell out.

"You're moving slow today."

"I know, I know," Danielle said as one of her coworkers walked past at a brisk pace. "I've been hearing that a lot, today."

"Whatever it is, Mr. Vanderbilt's going to be coming in soon to check up on the place," he explained as he stepped over to one of the tables she had just cleared. He lifted the table cloth, carefully folding it on top of the table before doing the same to another. "Help me with this."

"Sure." Danielle set the tub down onto an empty chair before moving to his side to help pull the second table over to the first, making one long table. "Thanks for the heads up. Any specific reason?"

"Nah, he just likes interacting with the members and making sure things are running smoothly, that's all," he replied, carefully adjusting the table cloth. He smoothed his hand over the top before crossing his arms over his chest, scrutinizing his work. "You've got enough energy for a ten top let alone the next few days?"

"Don't really have a choice, do I?" Danielle asked with a shrug. "The pay's too good."

"You deserve some rest too," he said, giving a nod of his head, satisfied with his work. He lifted a hand, waving it in the air. "You still have to focus on your school work. I do have to commend you, though. Not many kids your age are responsible enough for a school and a job."

Danielle just gave a nod of her head, a stiff smile on her face before going back to her abandoned dish tub. Muscles in her arms burning, she lifted the heavier tub and carried it through the swinging doors of the dining room, heading towards the back.

"You must be directionally challenged," Scooter commented as he jumped back from her, nearly hit by the swinging door. "You're normally on campus right now."

"Ha, ha." Danielle rolled her eyes. "I'm picking up an extra shift."

"Your friend Portman told me," Scooter replied.

"So that's how you always seem to know where I am," Danielle commented as she walked over to the potted plant in the hallway. She carefully lowered the black tub onto the side of the pot, balancing it against her leg. "You pump my friends for information."

"No, I just try to be nice," Scooter replied. "It's sad that it seems to be a surprising quality."

"You're friends with Rick," Danielle pointed out.

"He's not a bad guy," Scooter insisted. "He's just got a lot of pressure on him from his dad and the school to be the next big hockey star." He slid his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket. "Seriously, that's all it is."

"Funny way of showing it," Danielle commented, twisting her mouth to the side. "So, what brings you by to see little ol' me?"

"My date with Julie is coming up," Scooter explained, giving her a sheepish grin. "It's the night of the dinner thing. I don't really have anything planned and wanted to know if you had any ideas on what she'd like to do."

"Hey, I did my job, getting you and Julie together," Danielle said, putting her hands up defensively. "I'm not going on it with you. I've seen those sitcoms with the ear pieces and everything. That's not going to work."

"I know, I know," Scooter replied, "but I want it to be good and you know her well."

Danielle sucked in a deep breath of air before letting it out through her nose. "It's not like you were the one who turned me in to the Dean anyway," she replied. "You've kept your promise and I did say I'd help." Scooter gave her a confused look and she quickly explained. "So now, I have to clean the whole rink after the game, sharpen skates, wash pads, and re-tape hockey sticks until I'm told I can stop."

"Oooh," Scooter winced, making a face.

"Yeah, and that's not even as bad as what I'm sure whatever my dad will come up with," Danielle added. She brushed her loose strands of hair back behind her ears. "It's not the first time I've had academic problems."

"Danni," Scooter groaned. He took a step forward, lowering his voice. "I know I promised not to say anything, this is getting a little out of control. I think Portman was right in telling."

"Being expelled isn't going to help anything, trust me," Danielle replied. She lifted the tub once again, balancing it under her arm. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work. I've got a ten top coming in soon."

"Well, if there as anyone who could help, it would be Orion," Scooter quickly replied, stepping in her way as she tried to move around him.

"Yeah, that's what he said, too," Danielle said, angling her head back just slightly to look up at him. She took a step back to look at him properly.

"So why didn't you ask?" Scooter asked. "For help."

"Because I never ask for help," Danielle said with an exasperated sigh. "Kind of. I mean, I asked you I guess. But, still." Scooter stared at her. "What?"

"One of the only reasons Orion decided to take this job at Eden Hall was because he had worked out a deal with the school for his daughter" Scooter explained, crossing his arms over his chest. "They're helping him with his daughter's medical bills or something like that. Coach Wilson told us about it in a meeting before the school year started."

That's what he meant. "Really?" Danielle asked. Maybe she had it all wrong about her coach. Maybe he understood her predicament a lot more than he let on.

"Mhmm," Scooter replied with a nod of his head. "So if there's anyone out there that could help you out, it's him."