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Maren
I groan loudly as someone bumps into me for the millionth time today. She's a freshman, a schedule in one hand and her phone in the other, probably texting a friend to see where her next class is. She looks up from her schedule and quickly mutters an apology, looking panicked. I just sigh and wave her off, sick of the crowded hallways and people rushing around.
"I hate the freshman this year." I complain to Marina who's walking behind me.
"Cut them some slack, it's only been two days." She tries to reason.
"Exactly, it's been two days." I respond, "That's more than enough time for them to get their shit together." I continue as I reach my locker. Marina sighs, probably tired of listening to me complain, I actually feel sorry for her. It's a good thing it's last period.
"We can't be too judgmental, that was us three years ago." She says and I snort as I enter my locker combination. The locker door swings open and I drop my books inside, looking at my schedule to see what I have next. History. This day just keeps getting better and better.
"We weren't this bad." I say, taking a look around in disgust at all of the new students. I reach for my history textbook just as someone bumps into me from behind. I spin around, my face set in a hard glare, but whoever did it is already lost in the crowd.
"I swear to God, if I get bumped anymore today, someone's gonna get throat punched. And it's not going to be pretty." I threaten, turning back around to try again for my book.
"Hey." I turn to see Riley leaning on the locker next to mine, a friendly smile on her face. When she sees my glare, it fades a little, and she looks around me at Marina who's stifling her own grin.
"Be careful, you might get punched." Marina warns, and understanding dawns on Riley's face.
"Freshman."
Marina nods and Riley lets out a light laugh, "You know, you're the reason they're scared." She says.
"Good." I reply. She shakes her head disapprovingly and turns to look at the mass of people behind me.
"Aw, that's a sin. Look at them all." She gestures around us, "Scared, confused, alone in the world. All they need is an ounce of sympathy." She sighs sadly, "Poor little friggers."
Marina laughs, and despite myself, I let out a small smile, "See Maren? You have to give them sympathy, not heart attacks." She says wisely. History book in hand, I close my locker, turning to Marina with an arched eyebrow.
"Yeah, I'll give them sympathy when they finally realize that the room numbers are in order." I say, "What class do you have now anyway?" I ask her, changing the subject.
"French." She replies, with a shrug. I look at Riley.
"Bio. And I see you have history." She says with a nod towards my book, "Fun." She adds dryly as we cut back into the crowded hallway.
"Uh huh." I agree, "Wanna switch?" I joke.
Riley snorts, "Yeah, I'm sure nobody would notice, since we look so much alike and all." She says sarcastically, obviously referring to her light brown hair and eyes compared to my dark locks.
"Well, you could always switch with me." Marina interjects, "I'm sure nobody would notice as long as you kept your head down."
It's true, Marina and Riley do look a little alike. Riley's hair is only a shade lighter than Marina's, and her skin only a little less dark, and if she sat in the back of the class, it wouldn't be a stretch to mix them up. Still, Riley is quite a few inches shorter than Marina, and it would really go against my personality if I didn't bring it up.
"Yeah, it might work if you grew a foot taller." I quip. Marina bursts out laughing and Riley rolls her eyes, but she's grinning.
"Well, guess who's not switching classes with you this period?" She says smugly, I laugh, "And as for you, Marina, while French class sounds tempting, I think I'd rather get shot in the face, thanks." She continues lightly and Marina laughs.
"Yeah I can't blame you there." She admits, "Speaking of which, this is me." She nods to a door on the side of the hall that must be her French room, "See you guys after." With that, she disappears into her class.
Riley and I continue to swim through the crowds until I get to my history class. She wishes me luck and moves on to go to her own lesson. I swear I can feel my spirits dampen as I walk through the doorway. It's like this room alone just sucks the life out of everything. Even my teacher, Mr. Perry, looks half dead, sitting at his desk and just staring at his computer with blank eyes. The only thing that makes me feel the least bit better is the friendly smile Sam gives me as I sit down.
Despite meeting Sam in the beginning of last year, I don't really know him that well. He had been in my physics class last year and I'm not sure I would have passed if it wasn't for his help. Still, our friendship is barely a friendship. We're more like acquaintances who just talk to each other because we're bored. I'm okay with that. I don't need a lot of people to talk to anyway. I have Marina and Riley, I know they're my real friends, in fact, I don't think I can remember a time when the three of us weren't friends. Unlike most other people, I don't have a desire to hang out with a huge group of people, I have all the friends I need, even if they're not as numerous.
History drags on. My eyes constantly darting back to the clock, the seconds almost seeming to tick backwards. Without realizing it, I notice that I'm subconsciously bouncing my leg. Sam raises an eyebrow at me.
"Are you okay? In rush to get somewhere?" He asks.
"There's hockey tryouts after school." I explain, "I just need to get out of here."
He nods understandingly, "I see. Planning on being captain again this year?" I shrug, not really wanting to jinx anything.
"I hope so." I say. Even though I've been captain for the past two years, it doesn't mean I'm going to be cocky and just assume I'll get the spot again.
"You will." He assures me, and despite myself, I smile.
"Yeah. Thanks, I guess." I respond. Sam smiles at me, seeming satisfied with this exchange, and starts taking notes again. Instead of doing the same, I resign myself to leaning back in my chair and watching the minutes tick by once again.
When there's only five minutes left to class, I start to pack up slowly, hoping Mr. Perry doesn't notice and call me out. He sees me, but instead of saying anything, he just turns his blank eyes up to the clock.
"You can all pack up. Class is dismissed." He says with a shrug, probably just wanting to get us all out his hair. I'm fine with that.
"But the bell hasn't even gone off." Same pipes up beside me. I shoot him a look, already standing up with my books in my arms, ready to leave. He doesn't see me, "Won't we get in trouble?" He continues.
Mr. Perry takes a breath and takes a quick look out the door, "There are thirty people in this classroom and one hall monitor." He says, then waits a second, "He can't catch you all."
As if accepting this as a battle cry, half the class immediately gets up from their seats and rushes towards the door in a huge group. I don't join them, yet. I think of this in war terms. This group is the front line, the most likely to get shot. Or in this case, detention. Well, detention isn't an option for me today, being team captain is not an option if I show up late to the first tryout. I stay put.
I wait until a single person gets up and leaves after the initial mass of people, then I go. I give Sam a quick goodbye, and follow the person out. Up ahead, I can see the hall monitor looking panicked, his eyes wide as he sees a mob of about seventeen people coming his way. Poor kid, I don't even know why our school has a hall monitor. Surely this guy has something more important to do than bust kids getting out of class early. When the mass reaches him, I can hear him calling out for kids to stop, but of course, nobody listens, everybody hellbent on leaving. I see a couple of kids get stopped, but other than that, the rest of us get by without a hitch, the hall monitor too occupied to get to all of us. Looking back, the war strategy might have been a little over the top, a bunch of people blatantly ignoring a panicked kid in the middle of the hallway hardly seems like a battle. Oh well, it worked.
I rush to my locker and grab my book bag, hustling out through the school doors just as the bell rings. I make my way to my car, Riley and I's hockey equipment already in the back. Almost immediately after I get in, Riley jumps in the passenger seat, right on time, as usual.
"Remember, don't get too many shots in. You'll make me look bad." She jokes. She's trying out for the goalie position, she's been playing since she was five though, so I don't think she has anything to worry about.
"I make no promises." I tell her, and she laughs. After another minute, I see Marina come through the crowd, finding my car quickly.
"Hey." She greets us as she opens the door. She shoves her book bag in the back seat, quickly climbing in after.
"Hey. Oh and I forgot to ask you earlier, are you coming to the rink or do you want me to drop you home?" I ask her, pulling out if the parking space.
"Hmm... I guess I'll come." She replies after a second, "You know, for moral support reasons." I turn left at the intersection.
"Perfect," Riley grins, "you can be our personal cheerleader." Marina snorts, and I roll my eyes smiling.
It only takes about five minutes for us to get to the rink and since we're one of the first people here, I find a parking spot easily, backing into one just outside the entrance. I pop the trunk and we all step out, Riley and I going around the back to get our hockey bags as Marina starts to walk towards the door. Riley's bag is a lot bigger than mine, since goalies require a lot more equipment, but she carries it with practiced ease. I slam the trunk and walk with Riley towards the entrance where Marina is now holding the door open for us.
"Did you lock the door?" She reminds me as I walk past. I sigh, although thankful she's here to remind me of things I should remember. I haul the keys out of my pocket and lock the doors.
I hand her the keys to hold on to while I'm playing, noticing that there's no sign of smugness on her face whatsoever as she takes them from me. I know I'm lucky to have a friend a friend like her. She just a genuinely good human being.
"What would we do without you?" I say sarcastically, although being serious at the same time.
"I ask myself that everyday." Riley sighs from ahead of us. Marina just laughs and shakes her head.
"I'm sure you both would get on just fine." She says humbly, "Anyway, I'm gonna go get a spot." She starts towards the stands, her book bag on her shoulder which I know holds her sketch book.
I turn away from her, to go into the change rooms, more than a little nervous about tryouts. My whole plan for this year was to be captain of the hockey team, and get a scholarship. Although I know that I could get a scholarship without being captain, I would really like to be, especially since it's senior year. I see the other girls arriving for tryouts, I know it's going to be tough competition, and despite the earlier reassurance from Sam, I know that he isn't really a credible source of information when it comes to sports. I stop for a second to take a breath, the familiar scent of the arena calming my nerves a little.
Riley must notice I'm not following her because she turns around, a confused look on her face. I quickly plaster on a confident smile and make my way over to her. She's not fooled though, I can see the concern in her face. She puts a hand on my shoulder.
"You're gonna do great, Maren." She tells me earnestly. She squeezes my shoulder once, then lets go, not wanting to make a big deal over it. We kind of have that in common.
The moment is brief, but it's also comforting. I'm not really sure why though. I let a real smile out this time, walking confidently into the change room. I'm ready.
Marina
I can feel the cold air of the arena seeping through my clothes and when I breath out, I can see my breath turn into fog in front of my face. I have a hoodie on, but it's not really helping against the frigid air. I don't mind though. I've always liked the cold. The only sound in the stadium is the quiet murmuring of the few people in the stands, and the steady rumble of the zamboni as it lazily makes it way up and down the ice, preparing for the coming tryouts. It's quite peaceful really, the cold air somehow making the arena even more serene. I lean down, opening my bag and pulling my sketch book out before putting my feet up on the seat in front of me. It's why I chose to sit in the back, so I could sketch without worrying about the people behind me looking. Of course, I didn't actually come here to watch tryouts. Looking at thirty people as they skate laps around a rink isn't really my idea of a good time, even if two of them are my best friends. I came here to sit in the desolate, raw air, and draw.
I put my pencil to the paper, not really sure of what to draw, yet, having the desire to sketch something. As if it has a mind of it's own, my hand starts to move the pencil. I still don't know what I'm drawing, I just go with it. My random strokes of lead soon form into a tranquil grassy field with a pond in the background. Trees leading up to towering snow capped mountains are reflected on the surface of the water. Eventually my hand gets cold and I put the pencil down, curling my fingers into my palm to warm them. I look down at the page, tilting my head as I inspect the finished product. Hm, not bad.
I look up from the paper, a bit startled to see the tryouts in full swing. The girls have formed lines on both sides of the ice, taking turns passing one another the puck, then shooting it at the goal. I can tell by the goalie pads that Riley is in net, and she's doing a damn good job too, blocking almost every single one of the shots. My eyes are drawn back to centre ice where one of the players gracefully slides up to the net to take a shot. By the fluent way she skates and handles the puck, I can tell it's Maren. I see Riley ready herself for the shot. When Maren get up to the net, she fakes left then shoots right, landing the shot. I smile a little. She's definitely going to be captain.
I take a deep breath in through my nose, the smell of the arena bringing back memories of when I skated here. It was a while ago, before my dad died. I hadn't played hockey though, I found out from a young age that contact sports weren't for me. I used to figure skate, and I was good. I was actually qualifying for nationals when he died, I haven't been on the ice since. It didn't feel right since he was the one to introduce me to it in the first place. I don't think I would be able to go back out when he's not in the stands to cheer me on.
"Woah, that's really good." I jump at the closeness of the voice, snapping my gaze towards the seat next to me.
The voice belongs to a guy. A very attractive guy at that. I recognize him immediately from my French class. Joseph Reyes. His mouth is open in an awed look, his teeth white against his dark skin. His dark curls stick out from under a wool hat and he looks at my drawing with wide eyes. Wait, his eyes, a beautiful emerald green warm colour. Woah is right. How could I have been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't notice him sit down next to me?
"Sorry." He apologizes, probably for causing me to jump ten feet out of my chair, "It's just, that drawing is amazing." My eyes widen as I remember the page on my lap, and I hurriedly slam the book shut.
"Uh, yeah thanks." I stutter. I feel my face heat up and quickly lean down, stuffing the book back in my bag to hide my blush.
"Oh sorry." He says again, sounding a little disappointed, "I didn't know I was interrupting anything."
"No. No it's fine." I reply quickly, shaking my head, not wanting him to feel bad, "You didn't- you weren't interrupting anything, I just didn't realize you were there."
"Yeah that's my fault. I should have realized, if someone is sitting in the corner alone they probably don't want to be talked to." He says, shaking his head, "But I'm an idiot so..." He trails off and despite myself, I laugh.
"I'm sure you're not an idiot." I mumble stupidly, he grins.
"I don't know. I'm pretty sure giving someone a heart attack isn't in the criteria for a good first impression." He says with an oddly cheerful looking shrug. I raise my eyebrows at him, amused at his happy attitude, "Is it okay if I stay here?" He asks after a second.
"Yeah, of course." I respond quickly, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Cool." He says, happily putting his feet up on the seat in front of him, "So, are you here just to draw? Because I can see that getting a bit cold." He asks, raising a dark eyebrow at me.
"No, my friends are here for hockey tryouts and I just decided to come along." I answer, shrugging.
"Me too!" He exclaims, his weird excitement making me smile, "Well, for the guys hockey tryouts, after this one." He explains.
"Oh, you don't play hockey?" I ask and Joseph laughs.
"You've got to be able to skate to play hockey."
I find that really shocking for some reason. Maybe it's because I was out on the ice as soon as I could walk, or I could be surprised because everyone I hang out with plays hockey, "You don't know how to skate?" I ask, trying but failing to keep the shock out of my voice.
"Is that a bad thing?" He replies. He turns his head toward the rink but is still looking at me out of the corner of his eye, a slight smile on his face that never seems to go away completely.
"No, of course not." I say hurriedly, shaking my head. He doesn't seem to believe me and squints his eyes, studying me.
"No, it is a bad thing." He concludes, shaking his head, "It's a deal breaker isn't it?" I open my mouth to say no, but he continues, "I should have known that one day my skating inexperience would be my downfall." He says dramatically. He grins and I laugh as I realize he was just kidding.
"You're right, I don't think I can allow you to sit there anymore if you can't skate." I joke, loosening up a bit. He grins cheekily at me, his green eyes shining.
"Well, I guess I'll just have to learn to skate then." He says simply, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. I grin and I'm pretty sure I'm blushing, he doesn't seem to mind though, "I don't think I caught your name." He continues.
"Oh, Marina." I say. Joseph nods thoughtfully.
"Marina." He repeats, drawing out the word. Then a grin spreads across his face, "I like it." He concludes.
"Uh, thanks." I'm not really sure what to say, "Me too?" He laughs, probably aware that I'm at a loss for words.
"I'm Joseph." He says, taking off his glove and offering his hand to me. I take his hand, warm compared to mine, and shake it, "I think we're in the same French class." I raise my eyebrows shocked that he even noticed.
"Yeah, we are." I reply.
"Ugh, I hate that class." Joseph remarks, shaking his head with disgust. I just shrug, I haven't really decided how I feel about that class yet. Although, I don't need to say anything anyway, because he quickly fills the silence once again.
"Aren't you cold?" He asks, and I stupidly look down to see what I'm wearing. All I have on to keep me warm is a hoodie, but after years of coming to the rink, the air conditioned temperature is actually comforting.
"Not really." I shrug, "Are you?" I ask, noticing too late that he's bundled up in jacket, and also has a hat and a pair of gloves on.
"Me? No, of course not. Where would get that impression?" He asks sarcastically. He tilts his head to the side comically and I can't help but laugh.
"Fair enough. But seriously, it's doesn't really seem right for a Canadian to be cold in a hockey rink." I point out, mimicking the look he gave me. He laughs.
"Well, I-" He starts to say, but he's cut off by the buzzer, signalling the end of the girls tryouts. I look up at the ice and see all of the players moving towards the door on the wall of the rink.
"That's my cue." I sigh. I grab my bag off the floor and stand up slowly, reluctant to leave. Joseph stands up as well, backing up against the seat so I can get out. He does a little bow, and I smile.
"It's been a pleasure talking to you, Marina." He says, a lopsided grin on his face. I laugh, walking around him. I walk to the stairs and put my hands in the pocket of my hoodie, turning around to face him.
"Thanks for the company." I say and I see his grin widen before I turn around and walk down the steps. I get to the bottom, but right before I walk out of sight he yells to me.
"I'll see you in French!" He calls from his seat. I wave to him and quickly go to the spot where all of the girls are coming off the ice.
The guys are already lined up outside the door, waiting to get on the ice for their tryouts. The girls walk past them and I pick out Riley right away, even though she still has her goalie mask on. Weird, she's stopped instead of walking with the rest of the girls. When I can't find Maren, I start to wonder if Riley is stopped waiting for her to get off the ice. When I get closer, I find my answer. I hear Maren's voice, before I see her, and by the loudness of it, I can tell she's pissed off.
"Yeah? Well maybe you should watch where you're standing!" She's snapping, and I finally see where she is.
She's standing next to the line of hockey players waiting to go in the ice. She has her helmet taken off and is holding it under her arm, obviously telling someone off. It isn't just someone though. I don't know if it's the hockey gear or not, but this guy looks massive. He also looks just as angry as Maren.
"Are you kidding me? I was standing here first!" He exclaims. I notice his helmet is off too, "Maybe if you opened your eyes you would have seen me!" Of course she had to get in a fight.
Apparently Maren has now had enough, because her jaw clenches in anger and she starts to stalk forward. Before I have a chance to consider the outcome of this fight, Riley grabs her by the back of her jersey and roughly yanks her backwards. I rush forward as Riley pushes Maren forward, away from the line of hockey players. Maren stumbles into me but immediately turns back around, ready to go back. I grab her arm and haul her away before she can start again. She's a little off balance since she's still wearing her hockey skates, so it's not that hard to drag her to the change rooms.
"Maren, what the hell?" I question her once we get far enough away. She shakes her head, her face red from anger and probably a bit of embarrassment now that she's calming down.
"He almost knocked me over, then tried to tell me it was my fault!" She exclaims. I sigh as she runs a hand through her messy hair angrily, "He's such an ass."
"Who was that anyway?" I ask her, "That guy was massive." I add and she snorts.
"I bet he's not that big under all that gear." She scoffs, looking back almost hopefully, like she wants him to come back to finish up business. Thankfully he doesn't, leaving just me and a very frustrated Maren in the corridor.
"Who was it?" I repeat. She looks up, her face set in glare.
"Stanley Worthington." She says. I should have known, she got into a few arguments with him last year, nothing this big but they did a pretty good job of establishing each other as enemies.
"Really, Maren?" I sigh, exasperated. She opens her mouth to defend herself but is cut off by Riley coming up the corridor.
"You forgot something." She says, passing Maren her helmet that must have been dropped when she tried to take on Stanley.
"Thanks." Maren mutters, taking it from her with more force than necessary. We're all silent for a second. Maren leans on the wall on one side of the hallway and I lean on the other, Riley standing in the middle. Finally Riley breaks the silence.
"I apologized to Stanley for you." She says taking off her helmet. I expect Maren to explode but instead she just snorts, apparently cooled down now.
"You didn't need to apologize for me." She mutters.
"Yeah well, I didn't really want you to get jumped in school tomorrow." Riley jokes, trying to find the lighter side in everything as usual. Her comment earns a chuckle from Maren, and I let out a small smile. There's another moment of silence.
"I could have taken him." Maren concludes after a minute, nodding determinedly. Riley laughs and I raise my eyebrows at Maren.
"Go back out and tell him you want a rematch then." I suggest, "I'll even hold your gloves." Maren smirks.
"Maybe I will."
"Don't!" Riley warns, her eyes wide. Maren and I laugh, the argument amusing now that it's in the past. Riley walks in between Maren and I, shaking her head in mock disapproval, "You better hurry up and get that gear off, Maren. I don't want to have to haul you out of anymore fights today." She warns, pressing her back against the change room door to open it. She disappears into the change room and Maren follows.
I roll my eyes. Yup. This year is gonna be fun.