"Team USA"
Though not nervous, Maurae couldn't honestly call herself calm, either. The first four weeks had passed quickly once she'd made friends with her teammates. They played street hockey almost every weekend, but several times she would decline the invitation to stay in her room at the Banks house and just read or write. She was very fond of writing letters to her family, and did so almost daily.
So when Adam shook her awake one morning after a late night of reading, it came rushing back to her that she was supposed to go to the first official team practice that day. Flinging aside the blankets, she leapt up and started to race around the room, looking for clean clothes and hockey gear and all sorts of stuff.
Adam's mother had breakfast waiting for them, but Maurae hardly touched it, consuming a single Pop Tart and a glass of orange juice. Then Philip herded them to the car and drove them to the rink. Adam led her in and showed her the guest locker room, where she'd been instructed to go to meet all the other new players.
The other five players were already present when she entered and they all stared at her for a few moments. She smiled and went to sit down on a free bench. "Morning," she said cheerfully. A mumbled chorus of replies came back at her, and they looked away, each lost in their own thoughts.
Don Tibbles walked in, all smiles. "Good morning, Maurae. How have you been getting on with Adam?"
"Adam's great, Don," she said, smiling again. "He's been taking me to play street with the others since I got here. Really, he's been a wonderful host."
"Good, good. Maurae, these are the other players I've been recruiting."
"Yes, I gathered that," she murmured under her breath, causing the Latin boy next to her to snort and hide a smile.
"I'll let you all introduce yourselves while I go and see if everyone else is ready." Maurae nodded and started to pull her hockey gear out.
"Luis Mendoza," the Latino said, smiling a charming smile which she returned. "I'm from Miami." He started when she took off her sweater and started to change. Slowly, the others started to stare in astonishment as she seemed to display a distinct lack of modesty.
"What?" she asked, finally noticing the looks.
"Are you...I didn't...I thought you'd change in the shower, like me," commented the girl near the other wall. Maurae grinned.
"I've been changing in front of boys for half my life. I'm kind of used to it," she replied with a shrug, pulling her uniform jersey on over her pads. "I'm Maurae. I'm from Aurora, in Colorado."
Dean Portman would have been intimidating if she hadn't played hockey on an all-boy team for six years. He was about as tall as Fulton, and burly. He hailed from Chicago. Julie Gaffney was a goalie from Bangor, Maine, and the third girl on the team. Ken Wu, a former Olympic figure skater, was a small Asian boy from San Francisco. And Dwayne Robertson was a sweet, slightly oblivious cowboy from Austin with a smile designed to melt hearts. And they were the country's best.
************************************************************
Out on the ice, Maurae's nerves came back to her and she fidgeted. When Adam offered an encouraging smile, though, she took a deep breath and smiled back, feeling better already.
One by one, they were introduced to the coach, Gordon Bombay, who watched them each give a demonstration of their skill before falling back to let the next person go. Maurae skated forward when Don nodded to her and stopped precisely in front of her new coach.
"This is Maurae Grabeklis, from Denver."
"Aurora," she corrected automatically, then flushed. "Sorry, it was a reflex."
"Anyway, Maurae can do pretty much anything you want her to. She's the best center forward I saw."
"Center forward, huh? Banks!" Adam skated forward. "Square off against Aurora here at center ice. Let's see it, then." Adam smiled and the two kids obeyed. Maurae's helmet faceplate was not even an inch from Adam's.
"Let's do this, Aurora," he teased. She shook her head and smiled.
"Bring it on, Adam," she retorted, then proceeded to slip the puck between his legs and spin around him to go after it, taking an easy shot at the open net from the blue line. She retrieved it and passed it back to him before returning to her place in front of the coach.
"Impressive. Thank you." She nodded, going back to her place along the line of newbies. Then Dean Portman made his entrance and she shook her head ruefully. He was a jerk, plain and simple, rude, crude, and thoroughly exasperating. He skated circles around a couple of the old Ducks, terrorized Dwayne, whom she felt particularly protective of for some reason, tossed his stick at Julie, and lifted Ken onto the goal.
Which, of course, sparked a fight. No actual punches were being thrown, yet, but the newbies were faced off against the oldies, and only Adam and Maurae were staying out of it. When the shouts reached the temperature to spark violence, Maurae pulled off her gloves and put two fingers to her lips, like Leon had taught her, and blew. Hard. The air came out as a shrill, loud whistle that froze the argument cold.
"I've seen five year-olds behave with more maturity," she said when they had all turned to look at her. Her voice was firm and slightly angry. "You sound like squabbling chickens." Her eyes blazed with both humor and annoyance. "We're supposed to be a team. Why are you arguing?"
"She's right," Bombay said from behind her. "Now, we didn't come here to fight. We came here to play hockey. We're Team USA. We represent your country."
"That's right!" Tibbles interjected enthusiastically. Then he put up his hands and backed up, relinquishing the 'stage', as it were, to the coach.
"You've got to-"
"To be all that you can be, right?! You've got to raise yourselves up, guys! You've got to-"He stopped.
"All right, team, scrimmage." Bombay raised his whistle, but Tibbles beat him to it.
"Right! Scrimmage! Now, you heard your coach, you-"He stopped again and looked a little sheepish. "Hey, you don't need me here. I've got a meeting with Miss McKay. She's the team tutor." He started to walk away carefully.
"Don?" Bombay held out his hand. "Come on." Reluctantly, Tibbles placed his whistle in the outstretched hand. "You'll get it back at the end of the school term." A ripple of laughter went through the team. Once Tibbles was gone, he lifted the whistle to his mouth. "Let's show them what you've got, Ducks! Let's go!" The whistle blasted and the fragmented team split again, oldies vs. newbies. The oldies, at least, had some respect for Maurae's skills.
She was finally back in her element, on the ice, doing her thing. And it felt good.
Though not nervous, Maurae couldn't honestly call herself calm, either. The first four weeks had passed quickly once she'd made friends with her teammates. They played street hockey almost every weekend, but several times she would decline the invitation to stay in her room at the Banks house and just read or write. She was very fond of writing letters to her family, and did so almost daily.
So when Adam shook her awake one morning after a late night of reading, it came rushing back to her that she was supposed to go to the first official team practice that day. Flinging aside the blankets, she leapt up and started to race around the room, looking for clean clothes and hockey gear and all sorts of stuff.
Adam's mother had breakfast waiting for them, but Maurae hardly touched it, consuming a single Pop Tart and a glass of orange juice. Then Philip herded them to the car and drove them to the rink. Adam led her in and showed her the guest locker room, where she'd been instructed to go to meet all the other new players.
The other five players were already present when she entered and they all stared at her for a few moments. She smiled and went to sit down on a free bench. "Morning," she said cheerfully. A mumbled chorus of replies came back at her, and they looked away, each lost in their own thoughts.
Don Tibbles walked in, all smiles. "Good morning, Maurae. How have you been getting on with Adam?"
"Adam's great, Don," she said, smiling again. "He's been taking me to play street with the others since I got here. Really, he's been a wonderful host."
"Good, good. Maurae, these are the other players I've been recruiting."
"Yes, I gathered that," she murmured under her breath, causing the Latin boy next to her to snort and hide a smile.
"I'll let you all introduce yourselves while I go and see if everyone else is ready." Maurae nodded and started to pull her hockey gear out.
"Luis Mendoza," the Latino said, smiling a charming smile which she returned. "I'm from Miami." He started when she took off her sweater and started to change. Slowly, the others started to stare in astonishment as she seemed to display a distinct lack of modesty.
"What?" she asked, finally noticing the looks.
"Are you...I didn't...I thought you'd change in the shower, like me," commented the girl near the other wall. Maurae grinned.
"I've been changing in front of boys for half my life. I'm kind of used to it," she replied with a shrug, pulling her uniform jersey on over her pads. "I'm Maurae. I'm from Aurora, in Colorado."
Dean Portman would have been intimidating if she hadn't played hockey on an all-boy team for six years. He was about as tall as Fulton, and burly. He hailed from Chicago. Julie Gaffney was a goalie from Bangor, Maine, and the third girl on the team. Ken Wu, a former Olympic figure skater, was a small Asian boy from San Francisco. And Dwayne Robertson was a sweet, slightly oblivious cowboy from Austin with a smile designed to melt hearts. And they were the country's best.
************************************************************
Out on the ice, Maurae's nerves came back to her and she fidgeted. When Adam offered an encouraging smile, though, she took a deep breath and smiled back, feeling better already.
One by one, they were introduced to the coach, Gordon Bombay, who watched them each give a demonstration of their skill before falling back to let the next person go. Maurae skated forward when Don nodded to her and stopped precisely in front of her new coach.
"This is Maurae Grabeklis, from Denver."
"Aurora," she corrected automatically, then flushed. "Sorry, it was a reflex."
"Anyway, Maurae can do pretty much anything you want her to. She's the best center forward I saw."
"Center forward, huh? Banks!" Adam skated forward. "Square off against Aurora here at center ice. Let's see it, then." Adam smiled and the two kids obeyed. Maurae's helmet faceplate was not even an inch from Adam's.
"Let's do this, Aurora," he teased. She shook her head and smiled.
"Bring it on, Adam," she retorted, then proceeded to slip the puck between his legs and spin around him to go after it, taking an easy shot at the open net from the blue line. She retrieved it and passed it back to him before returning to her place in front of the coach.
"Impressive. Thank you." She nodded, going back to her place along the line of newbies. Then Dean Portman made his entrance and she shook her head ruefully. He was a jerk, plain and simple, rude, crude, and thoroughly exasperating. He skated circles around a couple of the old Ducks, terrorized Dwayne, whom she felt particularly protective of for some reason, tossed his stick at Julie, and lifted Ken onto the goal.
Which, of course, sparked a fight. No actual punches were being thrown, yet, but the newbies were faced off against the oldies, and only Adam and Maurae were staying out of it. When the shouts reached the temperature to spark violence, Maurae pulled off her gloves and put two fingers to her lips, like Leon had taught her, and blew. Hard. The air came out as a shrill, loud whistle that froze the argument cold.
"I've seen five year-olds behave with more maturity," she said when they had all turned to look at her. Her voice was firm and slightly angry. "You sound like squabbling chickens." Her eyes blazed with both humor and annoyance. "We're supposed to be a team. Why are you arguing?"
"She's right," Bombay said from behind her. "Now, we didn't come here to fight. We came here to play hockey. We're Team USA. We represent your country."
"That's right!" Tibbles interjected enthusiastically. Then he put up his hands and backed up, relinquishing the 'stage', as it were, to the coach.
"You've got to-"
"To be all that you can be, right?! You've got to raise yourselves up, guys! You've got to-"He stopped.
"All right, team, scrimmage." Bombay raised his whistle, but Tibbles beat him to it.
"Right! Scrimmage! Now, you heard your coach, you-"He stopped again and looked a little sheepish. "Hey, you don't need me here. I've got a meeting with Miss McKay. She's the team tutor." He started to walk away carefully.
"Don?" Bombay held out his hand. "Come on." Reluctantly, Tibbles placed his whistle in the outstretched hand. "You'll get it back at the end of the school term." A ripple of laughter went through the team. Once Tibbles was gone, he lifted the whistle to his mouth. "Let's show them what you've got, Ducks! Let's go!" The whistle blasted and the fragmented team split again, oldies vs. newbies. The oldies, at least, had some respect for Maurae's skills.
She was finally back in her element, on the ice, doing her thing. And it felt good.