A/N- An old, old fic, hopefully I managed to fix it up enough to be decent. Set after D3, assumes that the nickname change affected both teams... Ducks belong to Disney.
*****
My name is Chester Darrow. The normal nickname is Chet. But for all my life, I've been called Check.
Check Darrow.
You may be wondering where I came up with such a weird name. Maybe you don't care—if not, you're probably in the wrong story.
It's actually simple. I play hockey.
I am number 24 of the Eden Hall Varsity Warriors. Or I used to be. Now I'm number 24 of the Eden Hall Varsity Ducks.
It's a long story. I could say, truthfully, that it began with the protest against the Warrior name. I could say that it began when the Ducks got scholarships to Eden Hall to become the new JV team. I could say it began when said freshmen beat us in the JV-Varsity showdown.
All of those would be true, but I'm going to say it began when Adam Banks, a Duck, was forced into Warrior colors. And we began to split apart.
What can I say? Scooter was always different from the rest of us. Very different. So Riley and Cole never thought anything of it when he was so nice to Banksie. Banksie was different from us, too. He didn't have the heart of a Warrior, didn't have the proper Varsity pride. I admit, I didn't think Riley was going about things the right way to change that.
Banksie, obviously, didn't like being ganged up on every practice. But he dealt with it. He was patient. He tried to walk the line between Warrior and Duck. Nobody told him that line was so thin he'd end up overstepping his bounds on both sides.
He disappeared that day, after the big morning showdown with the Ducks. Cole wanted to go find him. I didn't think it was such a good idea. Especially not after Hart told me Banksie tried to go to the game as a Duck. Scooter agreed with me.
We went after him instead.
We found him on the ice. Surprised? Banksie lived to play hockey. He was practicing, but we'd never seen him practice like that before. We'd never seen why he was assigned to Varsity in the first place. We'd never seen how good he was.
It was after that day that we became friends. A few of us, Scooter and Labine and Kabine and myself, didn't have quite the same ideas about Warrior pride that Riley and Cole did. We stuck together. He became part of our group.
Then Banksie returned to the Ducks. I'd started to like the guy, but I knew he was where he belonged.
And they won. The Ducks won. They won the game, and they won the fight over who could call themselves the true symbol of our school. And we were officially called the Eden Hall Ducks.
That's where the story really begins.
*****
"I won't be a Duck," Cole snarled. We were gathered in the locker room, discussing our very sudden name change. "I won't be some stupid, wimpy Duck."
Scooter and I exchanged glances, then beckoned the twins over. The twins aren't really twins, mind you. Mic Labine and Nic Kabine aren't at all related (although, I suspect that to say they aren't in a relationship would be a lie). They don't look anything alike. But they've been sticking together like glue since before any of us met them. Thanks to that, and their names, they've been called 'the twins' for as long as they can remember.
"It's only a name," Labine observed as they approached us.
"I'll be a Duck," Kabine added.
"The Ducks don't see it as just a name," I pointed out, remembering Banks.
Scooter sighed. "There'll be big fight in the board. But Bombay and the Ducks will win. The question is whether we'll have a team left when it's over."
"Do we really—" Kabine began.
"—have a team now?" Labine finishes. The way those two put words in each others' mouths is a little creepy.
Our goalie glanced at Cole, still raging. "Point taken."
"ALL RIGHT!" Riley bellowed to everyone, cutting off any further conversation. "We have practice tomorrow! Five in the morning! We're going to get those Duck punks back! And that means we need to WORK!"
The proud Warriors marched out, leaving the four willing to be Ducks sitting together in the locker room. "Civil war," Labine says finally.
"Us four stick together," Kabine announces. "Right?"
Four hands go in. "Right."
I remembered something Banks told me. You can learn a lot, from the right friends, in the wrong situations.
I got the feeling the school bell was ringing.
*****
We arrived at the rink exactly when we were supposed to. But we weren't the only hockey team who'd decided to have a spontaneous practice.
Sparks flew as soon as we touched the ice, wearing our old Warrior jerseys rather than the new warmup gear stating "Eden Hall Ducks" on the front. Naturally, Conway was the first to speak.
"You guys don't need to worry. You'll never be Ducks."
"Wouldn't want to be," Mullin snapped.
"Good. Now get off our ice."
Cole lunged. The twins held him back, with great difficulty.
"Just because you got your fancy lawyer to change the school nickname doesn't make you any less pathetic," Riley sneered. "You're still just a bunch of rejects. Now you get off our ice. We will always be Warriors, and Warriors are better than Ducks. And we're going to prove it. In a rematch. Ducks are losers. It's that simple."
To the complete and utter shock of absolutely nobody, Duck number 56—Tyler—opened his mouth to give some clever retort. Banks beat him to it. "You're sure you can speak for the whole team?"
Conway gave him a very odd look, but kept going. "We'll accept that challenge, and we'll beat you again. One week."
Banks picked up, and Conway gave him that look again but didn't stop him from speaking. "And we should see just what side everybody's on. Real teams aren't based on how long you've been around. If any Warriors think they have what it takes to be a Duck..."
The silence was suffocating, most of Varsity frozen at the invitation—challenge? Insult? To everyone's shock, even mine, Scooter broke the silence. "I'll be a Duck."
He skated over to stand next to the Duck goalie, Gaffney. Rick Riley couldn't have looked more horrified if Conway had asked to join the Warriors. The thought ran through my mind that it served him right.
The twins and I looked at each other. "Us four stick together," Kabine's voice echoes in my mind.
Where should I go? "You can learn a lot, from the right friends, in the wrong situations." That was me, I think. Why did I open my mouth? But... it's true.
I detached myself from the ranks of the Warriors and took a place next to Banks. He stared at me, and slowly his expression turned into a smile.
The twins were still thinking. They might've stayed with the Warriors if Riley hadn't decided to start talking. "Well fine, then. We don't need you stupid Ducks. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Right, guys?" He looked at his team for support.
Everyone nodded. Or, all but two nodded. Labine broke, and Kabine with him. "You know, we're tired of being told—"
"—what to think. We'll be Ducks." They joined us.
"You... fine, go on! And when we beat you, don't come back begging to be Warriors again!" After a long moment, the remaining Warriors skated away.
The unity of the Ducks left too, as Conway rounded on Banks. "Okay Banks, want to explain what the hell that was all about?"
He didn't meet Conway's eyes. "You of all people should know that the entire team doesn't always think the same way the captain does."
A pause. "Fair enough." He turned to the four of us. "So. You think you have what it takes to be a part of this team? Because just putting on a Duck jersey doesn't make you a real Duck."
"We can handle it," Kabine assured him.
*****
The next week was hectic. Duck practices at 5 in the morning—special 'integration' practices, their real practices didn't start until 6. Varsity practices after school, which involved getting checked every five seconds. (This was particularly bad the first two days, as all of the Ducks were out to get us too.)
But by Friday, it was worth it. I finally managed to dodge that crazy cowboy and his lasso for the first time, the twins had won nearly everybody over, and Scooter... well, Scooter and Julie the Cat were getting along. We'll leave it at that.
"The game's Sunday morning," Conway announced. "Go to bed very early tomorrow, because we're playing at 2 a.m. We don't want to be interrupted this time." Nobody groaned at that announcement, not even the twins, who rarely see the morning on weekends. "No practice tomorrow. Rest up."
"You guys are going to remember which side you're on, right?" Russ asked the four ex-Warriors.
Everyone was certainly expecting us to agree, vehemently insist we were part of their team now, but we had something different in mind. I think Scooter started it, but it didn't really matter, as pretty soon all four of us had broken into the chant. "Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!"
The group burst into cheers. Even Conway was smiling. "We're ready."
"Very ready," Adam agreed.
"As ready as—"
"—we can get!"
"All right. See you all on Sunday."
*****
The Ducks were all in their old Duck jerseys, not the new white, black, and red jobs of the JV team. It was 45 minutes until game time. Charlie had not arrived.
We'd worn our own new jerseys, which despite having the Duck logo, still had the same color scheme as the Warrior jerseys. Which, being Warriors, Riley's gang would be wearing. The twins were the first to point out the problem.
"Guys, we don't exactly—"
"—match the rest of the team."
"It's cool," Russ assured us. "We got it covered."
Scooter started to ask what he meant, but right around then Charlie burst into the locker room. He was carrying a box. "Darrow!" he yelled, taking out a white and turquoise jersey and flinging it at me. "Holland! Labine! Kabine!"
The twins burst into laughter, but didn't explain why. Scooter, Banks, and I exchanged knowing looks. Labine and Kabine are not pronounced the same. In his excitement, Charlie had gotten both of them wrong.
I looked at my jersey. My Duck jersey. Number 24. Darrow.
I was officially a Duck. For better or worse.
We'd been asleep since 4 in the afternoon. Preparation. The twins had come to get me at 1, we went to get Scooter, and now here we were. We had a little over half an hour to warm up.
It would take me that long just to get accustomed to seeing myself in the new team colors. I examined myself in the mirror. A tall, stocky, black-haired guy in hockey pads and a Duck jersey. Was I a Warrior last week?
Had I been a Warrior at all? If Rick Riley knew some of the things I've always thought about him...
Things were going to be rough. I knew I'd had it relatively easy until now. We weren't allowed to beat each other up too badly in practice, and I didn't have to deal with the Warriors anywhere but on the ice. Bard, my roommate, is quite strong on the Warrior pride, but he has no interest picking on me when there's no crowd to do it in front of. The twins share a room, making them the luckiest of the bunch.
Scooter's roommate is none other than Riley himself. Man, I pity him.
*****
I wasn't surprised to see that Riley had recruited some new Warriors. Four disgruntled ex-JV members who'd lost their slots when the Ducks arrived. Morrison, Cross, Ketering... and Riley. Devin Riley. Rick's little brother.
"Well, look at the traitors in their pretty new jerseys," Cole sneered at us. "You Ducks ready to play?"
We are ready. We are so ready.
"First to five. Full checks," Charlie announces. Nobody on the ice looks the least bit tired, despite the ungodly hour. It's going to be a game like nothing any of us have ever been in before.
Charlie won the face off and kicked it to Banks on the right wing. He let fly with a slap shot from center ice. The Warrior goalie, Denver, saved it, but just barely.
A test. Banks knows full well that Denver is nowhere near as good as Scooter.
Speaking of Scooter, he's on the bench. He doesn't seem to mind, though, he's quite happy watching Gaffney.
For a few minutes, play was normal. Okay, correction. Aside from excessive violence, even for hockey, play was normal.
"Change it! Averman, Russ, twins, Darrow!" That was our signal. We vaulted over the boards along with Averman and Russ. Charlie wanted the ex-Warriors all out at the same time.
A test. Would we be loyal to the Ducks, or were we going to back down?
Watching Cole hack Labine cleared up any doubts I might've had. I shoved Hart to the ice as he came at me, and followed the twins up past the blue line. Kabine passed to Averman. Shot, saved. The Warriors took over.
Dev Riley slashed Russ as he advanced into the Duck zone. I checked him. Bard cross-checked me, and I resisted the urge to turn around and slug him.
In the meantime, Russ had come up with the puck that Dev lost. "It's knucklepuck time!" We had just enough time to wonder what the hell a knucklepuck was before he teed it up and shot. Denver never had a chance.
"Kenny, change it!" Russ headed off the ice, probably in the interest of prolonging his lifespan. Ken took the right defense position.
I like Ken. He's not exactly the next Gretsky, but he's nice enough, and ever since he broke out the figure skating moves in practice I've had a lot of respect for the kid. He ducked around Cole's attempt at checking him, took a pass from Kabine, and started on the attack.
"Split the D!" Averman called.
Leaving the puck behind, Ken did.
Hart and Morrison were ready for anything. Anything except a figure skating Duck half their size pirouetting between them.
I passed. He shot, but Denver blocked it. The twins snagged the rebound and passed it to Averman, who put it in.
Two nothing.
The Warriors were getting flustered. Actually, they'd seemed a little flustered the whole game, probably still recovering from four of their number 'defecting.' But that wasn't enough to keep the Rileys from flattening Guy, Connie, and Dwayne to score their first goal. Dwayne wasn't getting up.
"Time out!" Charlie yelled, and the whole team swarmed around the goal before the Warriors could ignore the call.
The Bash Brothers helped Cowboy back to the bench, and Connie diagnosed him as just a little dazed. Play began again.
*****
"Darrow, change it!" I switched with Goldberg, who was holding his side. Things were getting rougher.
Banks got a breakaway while the Rileys and Cole were bashing Charlie. "Check!" he yelled, passing it back to me. I faked from center ice, then took a real shot. Denver took the bait and dove for where it should have gone—if Banks hadn't swatted it out of the air. He wrapped around and backhanded it in. Three one. We exchanged high-fives.
Riley tried a deke, but it didn't fool Julie in the least. Cole's fake did, as he passed it back to Mullin at the last second for an easy goal. Three two.
Next time down, Cross literally dragged her out of the net and bashed her. Bard scored. Three three.
Scooter was livid. "Scooter, change it!" Charlie yelled, helping Julie back onto the bench. If the Bash Brothers hadn't already slammed Cross to the ice, one very pissed off goalie would've.
Charlie, Portman, Fulton, Guy, and Luis were the five on the ice now. Charlie got the puck and skated back around behind the net. "Flying V!"
Just like last time. Rick got overconfident and raced up to break them off, but this time when he got near Charlie, Guy and Luis broke formation and sandwiched him. Then they skated out to help the Bash Brothers take out the other defenders. Charlie put it in easily off Denver's leg.
Four three.
Cole decided he'd had enough. He smashed Charlie into the boards, hard, while everyone was skating back towards the center line. Both teams had been looking for an excuse. Bench clearing. The twins and I jumped into it as enthusiastically as any Duck.
Scooter had gone to the bench and was holding Gaffney, still looking a little dazed, back from the battle. I grinned slightly.
The fight didn't last very long. Before anyone knew it, Coach Orion and Coach Wilson were on the ice. Wilson didn't say a thing about our Duck jerseys, or the ex-JVs in Warrior gear. Thankfully.
"So," Orion spoke finally, when they got us separated. "Whose idea was this."
Warriors looked at Charlie. Ducks looked at Rick. After a moment, the Warriors turned their gaze to Rick too.
"I see."
"Riley, we're going to talk. Varsity, to the locker rooms," Wilson announced. "I'll deal with you later."
The twins and I looked at each other, just for a moment. Scooter came over to us as well. He'd said Varsity. Not Warriors, Varsity. We were Varsity.
The ex-JV stayed with the Ducks, and we skated after the Warriors.
*****
I pulled on my black and red Duck jersey. "Everybody ready?" Scooter asked.
The twins and I, grinning, nodded. The rest of the Varsity Ducks nodded too.
It's a little weird, seeing Scooter with the C on his jersey. Okay, very weird. But it's nice, too.
Two are now missing from our number. Coach Wilson gave us quite a talking-to after the Duck-Warrior game. I wasn't really listening, but it was something about how we're still the same old Eden Hall Varsity and we should still be proud of ourselves and our school. And there was no shame in being a Duck.
Two had still said no, though in many more words. All Coach actually told us was that Riley and Cole were kicked off the team for excessive profanity towards the coach—half the team was eavesdropping and listened to them cuss him out, but that's okay.
The day after that, they transferred. I don't know what school they're at now, but they'll certainly have bought their way onto its hockey team, if they didn't make it by legitimate methods. But that's not my problem.
Three of the ex-JVs are now on the Ducks. Not Dev, of course. Banks tells me that things are going well.
The rivalry between the JV and Varsity still exists. But now it's a friendly one. I know that they're in the stands, and they'll cheer us on in this, our first game as Varsity Ducks. But I also know that we'll get back to the locker room to find "Good game, you quacks!" written on the walls, and if anyone was stupid enough to leave their lockers unlocked, their shoes are going to be hung from a shower rod.
That's all right. We did the same to them a couple hours ago after their game. It was their first time in the new JV Duck uniforms, too. No hard feelings. Just initiation.
We take to the ice. The Blake Varsity Bears look ready for us, and we're without our two best players. We could be in for a rough ride.
Then something reassures us. The JV team is standing up in their seats, and yelling. No, chanting. "Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!"
The rest of the crowd starts to pick up the chant. The twins nod. "This is going—"
"—to be just fine."
Maybe they're right.