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.

Tessie – thanks for the great comments, it's nice to know that someone is still reading this! Ken is cool…there's no getting around that. The next two chapters will be short, but things will start picking up quickly since I know where I'm taking this now.

Ken saw his mother glance at him, an amused expression on her face as he shoveled the remains of his second bowl of cereal into his mouth. Before he could reach for the cereal box for a third time, she snatched it from the counter.

"You do realize dinner is in less than an hour, right?" She asked him, putting the box away.

"Mom," Ken gestured to his now empty bowl, "that's why I'm having cereal and not a steak." He grinned. "I am starving though. Can I have my box back?"

"No." She told him. "Dinner's soon."

"You sound like such a mom." Ken half-complained, grinning.

"Well, that's a good thing, since I am a mom." She replied, grinning back.

"Well, great, Mo-om." Ken snuck a carrot from the pile of vegetable his mother was chopping. "So what's for dinner, anyway?"

"Steaks." She replied, gesturing to a large package on the counter. "Baked potatoes, fruit salad and steamed carrots."

"Very All-American." Ken commented, stealing another carrot. "I'm starved."

"Good. You can finish chopping these then." His mother handed him the knife and began unwrapping the steaks.

Ken groaned. He didn't mind helping out, much, but chopping vegetables was his least favorite chore. Except for maybe cleaning bathrooms.

"Don't you think we have enough here for all of us?" Ken asked. His mother raised an eyebrow at him. Ken looked at the pile; she was right. He could eat all of them himself. He sighed and started chopping.

"I wish I ate this well at school." Ken commented, thinking of the pseudo-pudding, macaroni and slightly rotting fruit the Eden Hall cafeteria specialized in.

"Is the food really that bad?" His mother asked curiously.

Ken sighed. "It's no match for your cooking; but it's not terrible. Mostly. But they cater to high school students and they're not exactly known for healthy eating habits." Ken told his mom about Julie, who spent three days eating nothing but donuts for "energy", and Goldberg, who ate that way everyday.

"Lovely." His mom commented with a bemused smile. Ken agreed.

"So I was thinking," his mother began, after taking the steaks out to the grill, "I might come down to the rink and watch you skate tomorrow. Would that be okay?"

"Are you serious?" Ken asked. His mother nodded.

"That'd be great." Ken said with a smile. He always liked having his parents watch him skate, even in practice. "I have to warn you though, I'm not even close to skating like I used to. I'm finally getting my triple flip consistent and my triple Lutz is pretty bad, I've only landed a few so far."

"Ken, do you remember Matt Anderson?" His mom asked, handing him an apple to slice and standing next to him with her own cutting board, chopping fruit.

"Sure." Ken replied, surprised by the abrupt subject change. The Andersons had lived a few houses down since before Ken and Matt were born and the two of them were best friends until the Andersons had moved to San Diego when Ken was six.

"Do you remember when you were eight and they came back to visit for a week?" She asked.

"Sure."

"And do you remember what you told Matt and his parents about your skating?"

"Honestly," Ken pause, wondering where she was going with this, "I have no idea. What'd I say?"

"You told them that you weren't very good." She answered, tossing grapes into a bowl.

"Well, I was eight; I wasn't very good." Ken replied, still confused.

"But when they watched you skate…"

"They all told me how good I was." Ken finished.

"They were all so impressed with how well you could skate. You have to remember, Ken," she said, turning to face him, "that not everyone can do what you do. That's part of what makes it special. You've always tended to underestimate what you do."

Ken frowned.