And…the usual disclaimer: Disney owns the Mighty Ducks. The name, the characters, Orion, the Varsity players, and Linda are not mine. However, I do own any characters you don't recognize…i.e. Ken's parents, Ken's grandfather, Elaine, Brian, Sky, Tony, Sonja, etc.
So I'm going to attempt to keep this going…I've still got a couple of different ways I could take this, so if you have any opinions or ideas, let me know.
A billion and a half thanks to my two reviewers, you guys are awesome!!! And yeah, it doesn't seem like there are a whole lot of Ken fics, but there are a few really good ones out there. And Ken wasn't really my favorite either until I realized he's probably the only Duck I could realistically write a whole story about. So now he's tied for my fave. With Guy, of course…
And I would love to know what you guys think of this. If you like it, tell me! If you hate, great!, tell me why! And if you don't care either way, tell me your favorite cookie! Mine's butterscotch chip…mmm….ok, moving on.
"Now you've got everything, right? Your books and skates and everything?" Ken's mother fussed over him.
"Yeah, mom," he replied impatiently, holding up his backpack. "We checked my suitcase and skates and I've got my bag. Don't worry." While his mother was cool about most things, she hated flying. And hated it even more when her son was on a plane. But her nerves were at their worst this morning because they had all over slept. After waking up late and still having to pack, Ken only had time to haphazardly stuff everything in his hockey bag and suitcase. Still, he was sure he had gotten everything and his hurrying had paid off; they had made it to the airport with some time to spare.
"Come on Lynn," his father said, winking at Ken, "he's got to catch his plane."
Ken hugged his parents goodbye, his mother still fussing over him, and got in a line for the metal detectors. Once through, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and checked his watch. He still had forty-five minutes before his flight left. He had time to grab something to eat before his plane left. He wandered around the terminal, grimacing at the numerous fast food places. His mom's fantastic cooking, coupled with many years living on an athletic training diet left Ken with no appetite for fast food, unlike some of his friends, who could live on the stuff. He stopped at a small newsstand and bought a bag of pretzels and a bottle of water. Those would be better than nothing.
Ken settled himself into a chair in front of his gate and pulled out a worn copy of To Kill A Mockingbird. All of his classes had been assigned work over the winter break and he had done most of it, but had let the reading for English slide a bit, in favor of understanding and finishing geometry work. No matter. He had a three and a half hour flight to Chicago, a two-hour layover, and another hour and twenty-minute flight to Minneapolis. He opened to the first page and began reading, "When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow…"
Six and a half hours later Ken had finished To Kill A Mockingbird, was most of the way through 1984, and was on the last leg of his flight, mere minutes away from landing in Minneapolis. At this point, he couldn't have been happier. Five hours of sitting in cramped airline seats was not his idea of a good day; it would be good to walk around and stretch.
All the same, Ken was approaching his return to Eden Hall with mixed feelings. He loved his parents and enjoyed the time he spent with them, but being home had triggered memories and emotions he wasn't ready to deal with yet. Hopefully he could push them aside and worry about more important things once he was back at school.
Eden Hall was an entirely different story. The school itself wasn't too bad; the classes were, at the very least, manageable and many of them were actually interesting and likeable. Even a good number of the kids were all right, once they had finally gotten used to the Ducks. The Ducks had figured out that they weren't the only ones who hated the way the Varsity hockey team tried to own the school; even the Varsity football and baseball players didn't act like that. So after numerous pranks, the scholarship hearing, and the Freshman/Varsity game, most of the other students warmed up to the Ducks and began treating them as a part of the school. Some of the Varsity players had even backed off a little, mostly at the encouragement of Scooter. Most of the Ducks couldn't figure out if it was because he was actually a nice guy, because he was dating Julie, or both. Both Riley and Cole still tried to hassle them, but with very few people left to back them up, there wasn't much they could do. Ken had actually been able to eat his lunch in relative peace since the Freshman/Varsity game.
Even though school was much more bearable and he was able to play hockey with his best friends, Ken still wasn't sure he completely liked Eden Hall. The food was terrible and the dorms were the tiniest he'd ever seen. Ken had lucked out so far, he'd been paired with Luis for their first semester there; despite his slightly annoying habit of chasing girls, and somehow always being able to get them, he was a good guy and a pretty decent roommate. But when Portman moved in to the dorms after rejoining the Ducks, all hell broke lose in the dorm. Portman had driven his new roommate, a quiet kid named Brian, completely crazy with his loud music, overbearing demeanor and erratic behavior. Rumor had it the poor kid had pulled out of Eden Hall and was spending time at a mental hospital, recovering from the traumatic experience. And after Luis and Ken got into trouble for trying to scale the outside of the dormitory building up to the girls floor, the housing department had had enough and decided to issue new dorm assignments for the spring semester. Ken couldn't believe it; he hadn't even been doing anything. All he had been doing was sitting on the window sill of his room, holding the rope he'd tied around two beds and a closet door, so if Luis fell he wouldn't be turned into a sidewalk pizza…he's just have been snapped in half by the rope around his middle.
So consequently, Ken had no idea who his roommate would be for the rest of the year. He hoped it wouldn't be someone too terrible; it would be great if it was a Duck. He would just have to wait and see. It won't be long now, Ken thought, bracing himself for the landing. Another hour and I'll be back at school.
After getting off the plane, Ken quickly found the luggage claim and with some difficulty, managed to haul his suitcase and hockey bag off the carousel. Lugging his stuff, he found the ground transportation office. A van from the airport was supposed to be taking him to Eden Hall.
An attendant directed him to the correct van. Ken loaded his suitcase and bag into the luggage compartment in the back and boarded the van, which left five minutes later.
Ken read for most of the forty-minute ride to Eden Hall, finishing 1984. He breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in his seat; all his holiday work was finished. He wouldn't have to worry about it until Monday, a whole day away. Tomorrow he could relax and catch up with his friends. Even though hockey season was over, Charlie would probably try to organize some sort of practice or something. Not that many of them cared; Charlie's off-season practices usually consisted of goofing off in one way or another.
Pulling onto the Eden Hall campus, the van dropped Ken off in front of his dorm. He hauled his luggage inside to the front desk and got the key to his new room. "If you left anything in your old room, it'll have been moved to your new one." The assistant behind the desk told him.
Ken nodded and checked the number on his key. 360. He was on the third floor. He sighed at the thought of lugging his hockey bag up and down the stairs every day, but at least he was on the top floor. He and Luis had lived on the first floor last semester and had to deal with the noisy people above them. Ken's theory was they were extremely clumsy football players; Luis had bet they were in the marching band. Either way, Ken was happy not to have to deal with that anymore.
With a great deal of effort Ken finally got himself and his bags to the third floor. You'd think a school as loaded as Eden Hall would at least have the money to put some elevators in the dorms, Ken thought. Dragging his stuff down the hall, he located room 360 and, to his surprise, found the door open. He was even more surprised when he saw who was occupying the right side of the room.
"Adam?"
Adam Banks was sitting cross-legged on his bed, reading a book. Hearing his name, he looked up and smiled.
"Hey Ken. You're in here too?"
Ken nodded, confused. "What are you doing here?"
Adam half grimaced, half smiled. "I got fed up of all the parental crap, so I convinced them to let me move in to the dorms. I told them it would give me more time to spend on schoolwork and hockey, but I really just had to get out of that house."
Ken nodded in understanding. All the Ducks had been to Adam's house at one time or another, and every single one found it uncomfortable. It was clear that Adam's parents were used to entertaining dinner guests, not twelve overly enthusiastic, and sometimes very immature, teenagers. Ken had always wondered how Adam could stand to live there and never asked questions when Adam made up excuses to stay on campus after school. Adam would be much better off in the dorms.
Ken pitched his hockey bag and backpack onto his bed, ready to unpack and get some sleep.
"You want some help?" Adam asked, setting his book down on the table next to his bed.
"Nah," Kenny replied, he didn't have much stuff to unpack. "How was your break?" he asked, pulling some clothes from his bag.
"Pretty lame." Adam answered from his bed. "Christmas wasn't terrible; I got hockey stuff from my parents, as usual, but my brother and sister-in-law sent me some movies." Adam pointed to his desk where a small TV/VCR sat next to a pile of movies. "How was your break?"
"It was pretty good." Ken replied, pulling a pile of stuff from his bag. He pushed his hockey skates to a corner on his bed and separated several sweatshirts from the pile. "Didn't do a whole lot, just spent some time with my parents and – ooh…" Ken stopped short as he came across a large box.
"What's that?" Asked Adam as he hopped up and joined Ken standing by his bed. Ken sighed as he opened the box. He hadn't even meant to pack it, but apparently he had forgotten about it. It must have been in the pile of stuff he'd shoved into his bag in his haste this morning.
Adam had pulled out the newspaper and magazine clipping and the framed photograph, seen the skates sitting in the box, and was now looking questioningly at Ken.
Ken sighed again and sat down on his bed. "They're a present from my grandfather in China. He was my first skating coach and apparently took it really hard when I quit figure skating. My mom told me he's been sending me skates the past three Christmases since I've quit. I didn't even know about them until I opened this box. I accidentally threw the box into my bag when I was packing this morning."
Adam nodded. "Is this your grandfather?" he asked, pointing to the picture.
Ken nodded. "That was after my first skating competition."
"You look so young." Adam laughed.
"I was." Ken agreed. "I wasn't even four yet."
Adam looked at him, shocked. "You were only three?!?"
"I was a month away from my fourth birthday. I had already been skating for a year and a half." Ken replied simply. Growing up, he had known several kids who had started skating as early as he had; it wasn't a rarity in figure skating.
"Can I ask you something?" Adam asked, still looking at the photograph.
Ken nodded, though dreading what was coming.
"Why'd you quit?"
Ken hesitated, not sure where to start, or how much of the story he wanted to share.
"It wasn't just to join Team USA, was it?" Adam continued questioning. "I mean, you were an Olympic figure skater. Why'd you give all that up? I mean, we all love having you on the team; you're a great hockey player, but…it always sounds like you loved figure skating…" Adam trailed off, smiling nervously at Ken, as if hoping he hadn't said too much or hit a nerve.
Ken took a deep breath, still deciding what to say. "I was disappointed with how I skated at the Olympics; I had already started questioning whether I should spend the rest of my life figure skating. Then I injured my ankle during my long program and had to take some time off after the Olympics, so I missed the World Championships. At that point, I had pretty much made my decision, and then that crazy Tibbles guy showed up at our door, hockey gear in hand and I though 'What the hell, I'll give it a shot.'" Ken shrugged, signifying the end of the story.
Adam nodded, apparently satisfied with Ken's answer and returned the framed picture to the box. "It's just too bad we never got to see you skate," Adam said with a grin and he hopped back onto his bed. "Except for that crazy jump thing at the Games…"
Ken shook his head at the memory and heaved the rest of his clothes onto the floor of his closet. He shoved his hockey pads and skates and the skate box back into his equipment bag, tossed it to the floor, and placed the framed photo on his still empty bedside table. He'd do the rest of his unpacking tomorrow. Now, he just wanted some sleep.