A/N: Well chapter two has gotten exactly one review as of 8:30 pm, on september 4, 2004. So our author-reader bargian standing here is chapter three. Enjoy!
darkdestiney2000: anytime.
Nicolette was sitting in her father's study as he went through a few film strips of hickey games.
"Do I have to watch this?" she moaned.
"Yes, pay attention, you might learn something interesting," Herb told her sternly.
"Who are we rooting for anyway?" she asked. He gave her a look as Patti entered the room.
"How much longer are you two going to be in here?" She asked.
"Mommy save me!" Nikki begged.
"Herb," Patti reprimanded.
"We just got a few more," Herb assured her.
"You know Kelly has ballet at four tomorrow and Danny's done with soccer camp at around the same time, which one do you want to get?" Patti asked.
"I'll take Kelly to ballet," Nikki offered. "Maybe Sean'll be there."
"We've got team meetings after practice tomorrow," Coach Brooks put in. "And who is Sean?"
"This really cute guy who works at the studio," she answered quickly.
"What is wrong with you? Get out of here," Herb ordered.
"Night mom," she said, kissing her mother's cheek. She glared over at Herb. "Night Coach." She saluted him mockingly and went out.
"I can't be at two places at once, Herb."
"What about Margie?" he asked.
"They're on vacation."
"Well I don't know honey. You'll figure it out."
"Can you turn that off please," she started. "Please." He complied reluctantly.
"This is what happens during the summer Herb." Patti shot. "The kids are off doing a million different things and every once and a while your meetings are going to have to wait."
"Come on Patti," Herb started. "I'm coaching a hockey team here. We already talked about this."
"Oh really," she asked. "Because I don't recall being a part of the conversation. What did I say? Was it interesting? We never talked about this."
Nicolette could here her parents fighting through the bedroom walls. She couldn't understand how they could make such a big deal out of something as simple as a game of ice hockey, but the truth was, this was more than a game; to her father, to the boys, to Coach Patrick, and Doc. To Nikki, though, it was still a game where twenty boys push around a piece of rubber with a stick.
She got to thinking that night. If hockey meant so much to so many people, there had to be more than three lines, two goals, a bunch of guys with sticks, and a piece of rubber. And if there was some hidden secret behind all that, she needed to know what it was.
"Blue line—back, red line—back, far blue line—back, far red line—back," Herb explained. "Get used to this drill boys, and girl, we're going to be doing it a lot. Why? Because, the legs feed the wolf, gentlemen. I can't promise you we'll be the best team at Lake Placid this February, but we will be the best conditioned." The whistle blew and they were off.
"Be prepared to grow through pain gentlemen." He warned them. "You're going to skate harder than you've ever skated in your life every minute of every day you're on the ice with me.
"What's your name?"
"Mark Johnson Coach," he answered.
"Who do you play for?"
"University of Wisconsin, Coach."
---The Next Day---
"The fastest way to make this team is by being fast," Coach Brooks yelled as Nikki was running wind sprits with the boys. "Being fast means beating my daughter! I can guarantee you if we get some of the Soviets out here on the ice they'll be skating circles around her." Nicolette came to a halt.
"Thanks a lot dad," she shot back at him.
Her father blew the whistle in the middle of the next play; he looked angrily at a little huddle against the boards.
"Look at this," he yelled. "You've got four men being guarded by one guy. This isn't weaving for weaving's sake. Johnson line up."
"Come on guys," he encouraged as the offending players came back to the bench. "You can get this, talk to each other, spread out, this is easy stuff." Mac squirted his water in her direction. She squealed and jumped out of the way.
---The Next Day---
Coach Patrick was helping Jim train. He bounced a tennis ball off the wall, and Jim had to catch them. Unfortunately the first ball went a bit too high flew over their heads and smacked Nikki in the face as she came out of her dad's office, from a very serious pep-talk on team ethics.
She had a Marsha moment (you know, "Ow! My nose!") And ran back into the office screaming: "I told you they were out to kill me!"
"Okay everyone," Nikki demanded coming into the lockers after practice. "I want your jerseys right now, I'm taking them home with me today, and washing them tonight, and they will be returned to you tomorrow...clean."
"What if I like that my jersey smells?" O.C. protested.
"That's all well and good," she answered. "But all the masculine odor around here is going to make me pass out. Now, hand it over."
"No," he teased. Nikki planted her feet apart and put her hand out.
"Jack O'Callahan! You give me that jersey right now or I will take it from you!"
"Jesus," he started, pulling out his jersey. "Who do you think you are? My mother?" he teased, throwing it at her.
"No, I'm too pretty to be your mother," she returned.
"So you're my sister then," he taunted. "Is that it, baby sissy?"
"Yea that's right," she started indifferently, as the sweaters began to pile up in her arms, along with several other "Sissy" comments, that she brushed off in her own self importance.
She scrunched up her nose in disgust and tried to keep her face away from the pile in her arm when Les Auge came up behind her and grabbed a hand full of her rear end. She shrieked, throwing up her arms. Red, Blue, and gray jerseys flew everywhere as she ran from the room screaming: "I've been molested!"
Most of the boys looked to him in shock, as that had to be the most idiotic thing any of them could have ever done at this point.
The next morning, when the boys came into the locker room, Auge's locker had been emptied, and Nikki stood there with a smirk on her face, and a clean pile of hockey jerseys. And so the morning started off with Nicolette receiving a new nick-name.
At practice Coach had them doing green seats, which was sitting up against the wall with out chairs. Nicolette was there as well, with one leg crossed over the other, reading a magazine.
"I think she's doing it wrong," Mac protested, grimacing with the strain in his thighs.
"There's no way," O.C. added the pain apparent in his voice. "She's a girl."
"So that's why I have curves?" She jested looking up from her magazine. "You want to know my secret—ballet, I swear to God, three years of Pointe can do this to you."
"Yea right," Dave Silk put in.
"Names Christian," he introduced himself.
"Who do you play for?" Coach Brooks asked.
"University of North Dakota," Dave Christian answered.
They were running plays again, as Nicolette sat on the bench trying to understand what was going on. At this point she was tired of being defiantly uninterested.
"Come on!" Her dad was yelling. "Pass it," Rizzo hit the ice with a thunk. "No. No! No! No! Come on Rizzo! You're quarterbacking this play. I got you running this play. The only thing you're going to run right now it the bench. Mac, get out here."
Nicolette handed off a water bottle as Rizzo sat down next to her.
"How do you put up with him?" She asked him quietly. Rizzo shrugged.
"It's nothing personal," he explained. "He just wants me to do better."
"Well," she answered. "In your position, I would literally be crying for my mommy." He smiled at her, what an assuring little sensitive smile he had.
"Where's your skates?" He asked in confusion, looking down at her bare feet. She pointed to the corner.
"They're two sizes too small," she said. "They started hurting my feet."
"How long have you had them?" he asked.
"I think I got them for my twelfth birthday, so, almost seven years." She saw his eyes widen a minute.
"Are those the peanut butter skates?" He asked. She nodded. "You're dad's a hockey coach, and you haven't had a new pair of skates in seven years."
"My dad's a hockey coach," she repeated. "And has three kids. New skates for the child perfectly capable of getting a job aren't a priority at this juncture in time." He nodded,
"When's your birthday?"
"November first," she answered. "Why?"
"I'm getting you a new pair of skates," he answered taking another swig of his water.
"You better not," she said with a bright smile. "I'll kill you."
"You'll kill me," he mocked.
"I'll spit in your water," she warned. He laughed,
"You'll spit in my water?"
"I'll wash your white jersey with reds. You'll have to skate around in a pink jersey, and all the Commies are going to be laughing in Russian: 'Ha ha, he wears pink. These Americans are girly-men'."
"You'll make the Soviets laugh at me and my pink jersey," he answered.
"Yes," she pressed.
"Okay," he answered lightheartedly; he paused. "I'm still getting you skates."
"No!" She wailed with the happiest smile on her face.
"Boom, he can hit it. He can hit it. Boom. Boom. Boom." Herb explained the newest play whirling around in the chaos that had been his brain as of late. "We're opening up options. We've got four options off of one play. Any questions?" Silence. "Okay let's go." The boys stood in shock a minute, before:
"What the hell is he talking about?" Buzz asked.
"No clue," Robbie answered. Nicolette paused a moment.
"Wait guys," she called. "I got this." She came over and pointed to the board. "This is you here Rammer, the rest of you get the puck to him. Buzz, Bah, and Pav go out here, here, and here. Now before you get there, skate around in circles and make it look complicated. Then Rammer can pass it here—in, pass it here—in, and here—in. Just like that."
"Oh," a couple of the boys sighed in understanding. "Good job Sissy," Coxie hit her on the back.
"Oh my God," she breathed in terror as they went out to the ice. "I'm turning into a hockey fan."
"How about you?" Brooks asked.
"Mark Pavelich," the boy answered.
"Who do you play for?"
"UMD Bulldogs."
The line consisting of Bah, Pav, and Buzz. Was out on the ice executing perfect passing and fluid skating, as Coaches Brooks and Patrick looked on. One. Two. Three. Goal.
"You three," Herb called. "Run that again."
"Again, okay." The boys nodded in agreement.