Disclaimer - I do not own the Ducks. Don't you wish you could though? Your own little Quack Attack right there in your closet? Sorry…back to the point. I don't own them…just borrowing!

Italics indicate character thought.

Devin felt beyond cool as he pulled into the senior parking lot on the first day of his last year of high school. He and Charlie had waxed the Mustang the previous day and with the morning still summer-warm he had the top down as he cruised passed the parked cars and slid into a spot near the tennis courts.

"You are so the fuckin' pimp in that thing, Dev." As he turned the radio off he grinned over at Kennedy Smith and Brady Kent. Completely aware of the two sophomore girls strolling by, he hopped out over the door and leaned against the side of his ride, arms crossed over his chest.

He pointed at the Range Rover that Kennedy was sitting on. "And you're not in that?"

His friend looked his new car up and down before nodding. "Fair enough." Kennedy watched as a few more girls walked by, obviously checking them out, and then nodded seriously. "Gentlemen…this is our year."

Brady rolled his eyes, used to Kennedy's bravado. "Our year?"

The hockey team captain hopped down from the hood of his car, drawing himself to his full six feet. He ran a hand dramatically over his short blond faux-hawk and grinned, ticking off reasons on his fingers. "One, we're seniors."

Brady scoffed, lowering himself to the bumper and readjusting his bookbag. "Which only means that we've been trapped here for three long years."

"Ha, ha, ha." Kennedy fixed him with a glare before continuing. "Two, we're the three best players for a hockey team that is expected to make the state championship this year."

Now Devin felt a pin prick of doubt about his last year of high school creep into his head. "Can we not jinx it, please? All that means is that we have ten times as much pressure on us as we did last season when we were only expected to do okay."

Kennedy stomped forward a few steps, glaring at his friends. "You guys suck."

Checking his watch, Devin grabbed his satchel out of the backseat of his car and slung it across his chest. He gestured towards the building and they all started walking. "Did you only have two reasons?" He looked behind Kennedy's back at Brady and grinned. "Because I think we pretty much shut those two down without much trouble."

As they neared the back breezeway that lead from the parking lot into the school, Kennedy turned around, moving up the three stairs backwards, his eyes squinted. "I say again, you guys suck." He looked past his friends and waved at a girl who he had gone out with a few times over the summer. Remembering that he had promised to call her and hadn't he quickly averted his eyes back to Devin and Kent.

"So what class do you two losers have first?"

Brady consulted his schedule for the tenth time that morning. He was the OCD member of the threesome and was, they would all admit at the drop of a hat, the one that kept them in line the majority of the time. "I've got Physics." He groaned. "How on earth am I supposed to figure out science problems this early in the morning?"

Laughing, Kennedy shrugged. "Especially after an away game when we don't get back 'till midnight." He slapped Kent on the shoulder. "Good luck with that one, buddy. That's why you should've signed up to be a Teacher's Assistant first period, like me."

Now it was Devin who tipped his head back to laugh. "Just because you want to suck up to Mrs. Baysden so she doesn't give you crap about not doing your homework doesn't mean the rest of us need to waste a period." He looked down at his tattered piece of paper and sighed. "I've got AP English 12."

They had come to the junction of the hallway where Brady and Devin needed to head towards the second floor while Kennedy would make his way out to a temporary classroom behind the school. "That's what you get for having an English genius for your mother." Kennedy punched Devin lightly on the shoulder. "Sucker." He walked backwards down the hall giving a cocky wave and then a salute. "Later, fellas."

Devin and Kent started up the stairs. The girl who had been waving frantically at Kennedy as they left the parking lot jogged past them and they both watched her go before exchanging an amused look. Devin was the first to speak.

"I've got ten bucks that says she yells at Kennedy at lunch and bullies him into another date."

Brady looked at the spot where she had just passed on the stairs, his brow raised. "My ten says she just slaps him."

Devin laughed loudly and pushed his way into the crowded upstairs hallway.

"You're so on."

With a huge sign, Fulton rocked back in his office chair and stared out the window. The Boston sky-line was hazy with heat and as he watched cars inch past below, he interlocked his hands on top of his head and laughed out loud.

He had just checked in with all four of his team coaches and every one of the kids signed up for the Broken Window Hockey program had made it to their first session. The shuttle system had worked out as planned. No one had skipped out. Day two might find it all coming apart at the seams, but for at least one day, everything had gone exactly as it was supposed to.

At the sound of the phone beeping, Fulton swung back around and snatched the receiver up off of the cradle, taking a moment to marvel at the fact that he, Fulton Reed, was working in an office – something he never thought he would do – and that his assistant was paging him from the office just outside of his.

"What's up, Brandon?"

Brandon Bishop was a local Boston teenager who had just graduated from high school. He had aspirations of going to college but found that his parents fell in that awkward category of making too much for him to qualify for need-based scholarships and too little to help him out at all. Well, that and the fact that they didn't care what he did, so long as he didn't ask them for anything.

Brandon was a really nice guy, trying to save up enough money to pay for his own education, and was working for Broken Window for a year full-time. Fulton was glad that the investors saw fit to help him provide a decent salary for someone who needed it so much.

"Fulton, the reporter from The Globe is here. Do you want me to bring her in?"

"Yeah, man. That'd be great."

A few seconds later the door swung inward and Brandon, his half arm-sleeves in full view due to his short sleeved polo shirt, stepped in. He smiled broadly at Fulton. "Fulton, Claudia Evans to see you."

"'Preciate it." As Brandon backed out, Fulton lumbered around the desk, feeling a bit like an imposter in his khaki pants and button-up shirt. He normally would have been in a t-shirt with a blazer on hand for any 'dressier' occasions, but he had figured a newspaper reporter warranted a little more class. He stuck out his hand, surprised when Claudia Evans' grip was so strong that his fingers ground together. Yikes. "Ms. Evans. Nice to meet you."

She pumped his hand twice. "Likewise." All business, she sat down primly in one of the two extra chairs and then waited while Fulton arranged his long limbs back behind his desk. "That's quite an assistant you've got out there."

Fulton nodded. "Brandon's great. He's unreal with computers, so he's been managing the website."

She tilted her head sagely, her short cropped hair bounding around her middle-aged face. Fulton guessed she was in her late forties. "I meant that he didn't look the part of the normal assistant."

It took Fulton a moment to respond. First, he found himself surprised to be having a conversation about his assistant. Second, he had to think for a moment to remember what might be so different looking about Brandon.

"Ah, the tattoos?" Brandon sported a various array of colorful images from the elbow to the wrist on both arms. He had asked Fulton very early on in their working relationship if he preferred they be covered up. Fulton had answered without hesitation. I have no problem with your ink, dude. It's up to you what you show and don't show.

Evans nodded. "Seems a bit much for a non-profit office, don't you think?" She clearly thought that Fulton would be automatically on her side. What that said to Fulton was that she hadn't done her homework before coming to interview him. Anyone who knew anything about Fulton Reed knew that he could care less about appearances. It was who a person was and what he or she did that mattered to him.

He involuntarily wrinkled his nose at her, already disliking the woman immensely. Crossing his legs he leaned back. "I wouldn't say that. He's great at his job. Isn't that the most important thing in a non-profit office?"

Shrugging, she pulled out a tape recorder and set it on the desk. "To each his own, I guess." She clicked her pen and made a small squiggle on her notepad. Never looking up, she hit the record button. "So, Mr. Reed. Tell me how you came up with the name Broken Window Hockey."

Understanding that press coverage was important to his goal, Fulton knew he had to deal with this woman. But at the same time, the rash side of Reed was fighting to take over. He wanted to scream at her to kiss his ass – and Brandon's likely tattooed one – and get the hell out. He most certainly didn't want to give her the insight into his life that the origin of Broken Window would provide.

He didn't want her to know that he had not been able to go home because his mom had been dealing, so he had stood in a dirty alley smacking street pucks at open trashcans for hours on end, more often than not missing the trash cans and breaking building and car windows. He also didn't want to tell her that one broken limo window had changed the path of his life.

He looked at her, perched in his chair and eyeing him suspiciously. He disliked her to her very core. But he knew that telling his story could help some of the kinds in this program that he had created. With a big sigh he glared at her once again and began.

"When I was twelve my mom was a junkie…"

They only had a week of school before hockey practice started every day and before the drama club would begin planning their big fall production. They only had a week of school before Devin and Annemarie were so busy that they would barely see each other until the weekends. Especially since they only had one class together and that was Spanish 4. The class where Senora Montena was insistent that no English would be spoken at any time for any reason. With Devin's total inability to grasp anything but the present tense, he was unlikely to have many meaningful conversations with his girlfriend while in Spanish.

It was because of the impending time constraints that they had decided to do something that afternoon. Walking to Devin's car, Annemarie slid her hand into his, squeezing. "So what are we doing?"

Devin smiled down at her, pulling a ten dollar bill out of his pocket. "How about we go grab some milkshakes from R&J's and then head over to the lake and walk around." He grinned, waving the ten. "Brady's paying."

Annemarie shook her head, bumping him with her hip. "Don't you feel at all bad that you're laughing your way to the bank while Kennedy is at this very moment planning a date with a girl he doesn't even like?"

Taking her heavy backpack from her arms, Devin put both of their things in the backseat before opening the car door for her. He waited for her to slide in before he shut the latch and walked around to his side. He laughed once. "I don't feel bad at all. Maybe he should have called her like he said he was going to."

Watching kids walk by in front of the car as Devin started it, she laid her head back to let the hot sun beat down on her face. "He's a real ladies man, huh?"

Pulling out into the line of traffic, Devin hit the play button on his stereo to send "Never Enough" by Over It streaming through the speakers. He braked behind another car and turned to look at Annemarie. He leaned over and ran a hand slowly down her hair, smiling when she shivered at his touch. "Well, not everyone can be as smooth as me."

She opened her eyes to small slits and looked at him. "You're pretty smooth, I'll give you that." She leaned over and planted a firm kiss on his lips. "Love you, Dev."

He kissed her again for good measure before sliding his sunglasses out of his hair and onto his face. "Love you, too."

Torithy: Stop reviewing my story and start writing more of your Road-Trippin' fanfic!!! Sorry, no pressure. I'm just so loving Cait in yours. Actually, I wish I could get this junk more vivid like yours. After 8 million chapters about these people I think I'm getting a little stale. Thanks for reviewing!

Hockey-girl90: I'll be counting the days with you. I'm vacaying at the end of the month too.

Johnny: Thanks. I'm glad you guys like the Broken Window idea so much!

Joshysgirl: I cracked up when I read your review. A gift basket. Nice! I'll pretend next time I'm eating some fruit that it's from you. Hahah Sorry about the lack of Adam. Actually, I'm so out of ideas for him. Not sure how he's going to fit into my big finale, but if you have any ideas of how you'd like me to wrap things up for him, PLEASE let me know.